“So do you feel any older, Birthday Girl?” Laughs Mary, as we walk slowly down County Road Six towards my house. It’s been exactly three weeks since the incident with Emery’s father, and so far there hasn’t been any sign of him.

“Nope, and can you please stop calling me that?” I whine. She’s been calling me the birthday girl every chance she had since I arrived at her house.

“Not a chance,” she grins, stretching her arms out in the air. “So what’s new in the wonderful world of your boyfriend Emery?”

I smack her arm with my good one, and then consider what she said. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble. He isn’t, right? We never put a label on our relationship, but we didn’t act that much like a couple either. “Besides, he’s going to be off probation soon. Then he’s going to leave for a life of partying and being a badass.” I look up at the few fluffy white clouds that float in the bright blue sky.

“Do you really think he’s going to leave?” Mary asks, trying to meet my eyes that still are looking up. “I mean, look at how far you’ve come. You both used to hate each other, and now you’re in love!”

I stop in my tracks and glare at my best friend. “We are not in love.”

Mary continues walking and calls to me over her shoulder. “For someone’s who isn’t in love, you sure are defensive.” I speed walk to catch up to her. “Anyways, Emery actually hasn’t mentioned it?” I think about that for a few minutes and relive our conversations that had even the slightest thing to do with him being on probation.

I shake my head no. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to ruin what we have prematurely.” Mary opens her mouth to responds, but shuts it when we hear the rumbling. Turning around, we look at the truck speeding towards us in the distance. It’s still pretty far away, but we both squint through the dust it’s creating to see who it is.

“Did your dad go out?” Mary asks. Usually the only people out this far on our road were Mary’s parents or mine since the other neighbours lived past Mary.

“I don’t think so. Besides, my dad doesn’t drive like a maniac.”

“Well, that’s your truck,” Mary declares, crossing her arms. “It must be Emery.” We stand still for the minute it takes the truck to reach us, and sure enough, it skids to a stop. Stones, dust, and the smell of exhaust surround us as Emery slams on the breaks.

“Want a ride?” He smirks from the driver’s seat. Shrugging, I walk towards the passenger door when Emery locks it. “You two have to get in the back. I picked up your cake and your dad gave me strict orders not to let you see it!” I start to lean over the open window when Mary grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me back.

“No peeking!” she giggles, walking towards the trunk. She steps up on the bumper and climbs inside. I follow in suit and soon were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, shielding our eyes from the clouds of dust blowing around us.

Twenty minutes later, were sitting at my kitchen table, cutting the cake. It has horses on it, like every year. Mary and I glance towards the empty chair to my left every few minutes, as if Ocean’s ghost is sitting right there. After her death, we left her chair there for a year. But now, we only take it out on birthdays.

“Happy birthday dear River and Ocean,” everyone sings our names, except Emery, who doesn’t know the yearly routine. “Happy birthday to you.” Smiling down at the burning candles, I think of a wish. When I have it, I look to Ocean’s chair. Every single year, I can’t help this routine. I always expect her to be standing there, nodding to me when she’s figured out her wish.

I take a deep breath and blow out the candles, keeping my secret to myself through Mary’s pestering. I’ll tell her when it comes true; if it does. After we’ve eaten, we head outside to do our tradition.

“Where are we going?” Oblivious Emery asks as Mary and I lead the horses out of the barn. King barks happily as we slide onto our horses and trot them towards my parents. They’re halfway up the small hill that looks out over the barn and my mother is carrying a basket full of flowers.

“You’ll see,” I tell Emery, who’s jogging beside us and King to keep up. It takes ten minutes to get there, but the whole time, no one talks. It’s not that we didn’t want to; it’s the fact that we’re too deep in thought to construct words.

We’re all thinking of Ocean, and how this is another year that she won’t get to turn older. But other than that, we’re caught up in happy memories we shared together. I’m thinking of the times we used to ride to Mary’s house, and one of us would always have to double up with her because we only have two horses. As I look over to Mary staring up at the sky, I know her thoughts aren’t much different than mine.

When we reach her grave, I watch Emery’s eyes grow wide. He had never been this far out in the field before, and had never seen the unchanging monument. It’s placed exactly where she died. It’s a simple cute stone, standing only up to my thigh. On it, the inscription is carved elegantly, exactly as Ocean would have wanted it. ‘In Memory of Ocean Snow. Loving daughter, sister, and friend.’ Underneath it is the carving of Patch’s hoof print. We had it measured and carved in the exact same size and shape.

Images and bits of the memory flash in front of my eyes as we stand there. I can’t control them. It’s like I’m watching a movie that keeps on skipping back and forth.

My father is the first one who stands before Ocean’s grave. He holds his hat over his heart with his right hand and a lily from the basket in his left. He doesn’t say anything; he never has. But I know he’s saying everything he possibly can inside his head. When he’s done, he steps forward and places the lily on the grass. The pretty pink flowers were always Ocean’s favourite. He puts his hat back on his head, and walks back to pat my mother on the shoulder.

For a few moments, she doesn’t say anything. She places the lily on the grave, and kisses the top of the headstone. “We never stop thinking of you,” she says quietly, and returns to her place beside my father.

Mary is next, as she takes a lily from my mother’s basket. She had always been the best one of us at this whole tradition. As she stands before the stone, she smiles. “Happy birthday, Ocean. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift, but you’ve always been so hard to shop for,” she laughs quietly, and I can’t help but smile too. Ocean had been the worst to buy presents for. “My family prays for you every night,” she whispers after she’s stopped laughing. “We all miss you so much.” She bends down, and gently sets the lily on top of the two others. When she’s done, she wipes the tears before they spill over her eyes and steps beside me.

I’m always the last one to go, so I look over to Emery, who’s standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to say something, or just give her a lily?” Emery looks uncomfortable, and I have a feeling that he really doesn’t like dealing with death. Regardless, he shrugs, and walks to my mother. He smiles sadly at her as he removes a flower from the basket, and turns to face the grave.

“I know we never got the chance to know each other,” he says, twirling the stem of the flower between his fingers. “But if you were anything like your sister, I wish I did.” He places the lily on the others. “Happy birthday.” When he walks towards me, I smile at him and he smiles back. For someone who’s been quite insensitive, what he said was quite thoughtful. When he’s returned to his spot beside me, I know it’s my turn.

My legs feel like they’re going to collapse underneath me as I walk towards my mother. I take the final lily from the basket, and smile at her. She had bought an extra one for Emery. When I’m facing towards my sister’s tomb, I have no idea what to say. I’ve never really said much, because my mouth can never form the words. This time is no different.

“I love you,” I whisper, and stretch my hand out over top of the plot. I feel the pretty pink lily slowly fall from my fingers, and watch it as it lands perfectly on top of the others. I won’t be back here for almost another year. I hear my mother and Mary gasp as my knees collapse underneath me.