Four

Her birthday. It was her last one, but Shorty tried not to think about it too often. Well, he tried.

Moira Giovanni was a beautiful baby. Shorty was in love with her from the moment she was born, tears and sticky and loud wails. All of it. He loved every second.

His wife Elaine wasn’t fond of being a mother. Well, it wasn’t that she wasn’t fond of it. She said those words often. “I’m not fond of that,” like she was some old Hollywood actress. She dressed that way, too. With pinned and curly black hair, bright red lips, perfect makeup. He rarely saw her not perfect. In fact, even without makeup, she was perfect to him. She was just…extra, is what her friends called her. To this day, she hadn’t changed, even after the pain she’d faced.

But Elaine was actually a very good mother. A caring one. A thoughtful one. She just didn’t appear that way on the surface. He would defend her til the ends of the earth, though, even when she faced criticism when it came to Moira.

Moira insisted on chocolate cake, and only chocolate cake, for her birthday. “No other food. Just cake, papa.”

So, Shorty made it for her. She wanted no gifts. Just cake, and her mommy and papa and no friends. He decorated it with yellow and pink roses, something that surprised his wife.

“Why do you know how to do that?” she asked, from the sink, rinsing dishes in her yellow rubber gloves.

“There’s this thing called the internet,” he replied, smiling.

He was grateful for this family, and remained grateful even after it was torn apart.

“Happy birthday, Moira baby,” Shorty said, as Moira sat perched at the head of the table as if she was in charge. Truthfully, she was always in charge.

Moira squealed. “It’s pretty! Is it,” she blinked and looked up and down the cake, “chocolate?”

“Nope, strawberry,” Elaine said, smiling.

“Mommy,” Moira said. She scowled. “Papa?”

“Of course it’s chocolate, honey,” he said.

He cut her a slice, and then another slice, and then another, even though Elaine kept telling him no more.

“She won’t sleep tonight.”

“It’s her birthday. Calm down.”

He was forever grateful for the extra slices of cake. He didn’t care that she stayed up into 4 am when he had to be to work at 7 am. That night, they’d go camping in their backyard under the stars of their sleepy Ohio town. He told her fairy tales, the nice kind, where Cinderella was kind and didn’t convince some crows to peck out her step mother’s eyes. They hunted for fireflies, and she caught 4 in jar.

“4! Like me!” she said, loudly. Shorty was grateful their house was far from others because she could be as loud as she wanted without worrying about their neighbors.

“Just like you!” Shorty said, scooping her up. “I think it’s bed time, my sweet.”

“But it’s my birthday,” she pouted.

“Technically, yesterday was your birthday, sweet,” he said, kissing her hair. She always smelled like Loreal conditioner, sweet and fruity. He would love that smell for the rest of his life, and even bought it as part of a care package for his best friends when they had their baby.

“Technically,” she said, slowly, eyes fluttering.

He carried her past Elaine in the front room, asleep in her little arm chair with her book and her blanket. He followed the winding steps to her room, and tucked her into bed, kissing her forehead and wiping off the last smudge of chocolate cake from her little rosy cheeks. He took this in, not knowing the future.