She's happy. Both of them are, and I'm happy for them.

2021

OVER THIRTY PEOPLE ATTENDED A birthday party for an eight-year-old. And sixty percent of them were kids.

The unpleasant, irritating noises from swarming children circled the environment. They ran everywhere like rats fleeing when they spotted a human. They were barely old enough to understand the meaning of, shut the fuck up. The balloons I took trouble decorating were now in their sticky hands and tossed aimlessly on the floor among the trash bags. Some exploded, which gave me the satisfaction of watching them cry.

Aside from those animals, their parents and mine stayed on the other side, where alcohol and seafood were served. Courtesy of dad. Fortunately for me, Max and Victoria are here too. It's been years since they moved out. Max, being the eldest, was the first. He left for Pennsylvania. When he left, he looked like an average person with a decent weight, goals, and priorities. Now, I couldn't recognize him with his muscular figure. His hair remained short, but it's now bleached. After working as a secretary for years, he recently achieved his dreams and became a professional wrestler. It's ridiculous how he's been on television, and I didn't know about it until now. I mean, I don't watch TV anymore. And even if I do, it would be anything but wrestling.

Victoria moved to Chicago a year after Max and became a university coach, training students to pass their sports curriculums and attain the highest points possible. Especially in matches against other universities. She stayed firm in her goals and is still there today. She's living the life she hoped for when she was back in high school. She lives in a condo with her two cats, Wine, and Whiskey, to keep her company. She doesn't have a partner, and I doubt she'll be finding one anytime soon. Her cats were all she needed.

She's happy. Both of them are, and I'm happy for them.

Instead of mingling with the adults, they stayed with me by the front porch. Or mostly Vic, as Max kept leaving to his room to, quote-unquote, watch a movie with his fiancé.

"Is everything okay?" Vic slumps against the wall. "You rarely text. Nor call. Your socials have been abandoned for years. I'm worried."

"I'm okay."

I sense her eyes on my back. "Really?"

I nod before sipping my dilute Dr. Pepper.

"Dad giving you any trouble?" She asks after a long pause.

"Not that I know of," I said. "Like you said, I barely text. I also rarely talk to him... Or anyone for that matter."

She said nothing.

And so did I.

I guess this is the aftermath of not seeing or talking to someone for a long time. We're a whole new person, and conversing like the olden days will never happen, leading to an awkward silence in the end. A feeling I couldn't stand for even a second.

"So, how's life in Chicago?" I had to get out of this wave of awkwardness.

"It's good, actually," I lean my back against the wall next to her. "I've made some friends. My students actually prefer my coaching over their previous one. Aside from work, Rosé is pregnant."

"So you're gonna be a crazy cat lady someday?"

She laughs.

"No," she set her Sprite down and brought her knees up for her elbows to rest on. "I'll probably have to find some good homes for them. Taking care of these two love birds is hard enough. I love cats, but I hate how they whine around four in the morning. I swear, they're worse than babies."

The second she said that we heard a baby sobbing from the backyard. We laughed for a while at that precise timing, and she took her words back, saying cats are way better than babies.

Our laugh fades eventually.

"You could move in with me, you know?" She offers. "The guest bedroom has your name on it."

"Thanks," I start. "But I can't."

"Why?"

Before this, I'd live in a foster home than in this neighborhood if I could. I can finally escape the place that holds thousands of memories I'm trying to forget. But it doesn't work that way. No matter where I go, I can never escape something until I learn to let it go. I'll just end up carrying my problems to my new environment and letting them manifest even further.

I can't let Alex go. I don't think I can. His family and friends may have lost a person they love, but I lost my world. And once you lose that, nothing's left. You're all alone, lost, unwilling to move on or let go.

That's what I'm going through these days.

Plus, moving in with Vic meant that I wouldn't be able to visit Alex's home anymore. And even though he's no longer there, I'm not ready to leave that house. Not yet.

"I like my college here," I lie. "You know me, I prefer staying in an environment I'm familiar with than starting anew. Especially in the education field."

"Yeah, I do," she swirls her drink by moving the cup anticlockwise slowly. "Nevertheless, you're welcome anytime, okay?"

I nod, trying to hold back from talking further about this.

...

It's past nine, and the party's still in full swing. No one seems tired or bored. The kids operate with endless energy as if they've down four shots of expresso. The adults remain at their lounge, only this time with more drinks.

I've wasted ample time sitting and doing nothing at this party. It only reminded me of why I do not like parties.

Alex loved partying. He finds joy in surrounding himself with strangers and dancing his heart away—even when he's not the best dancer in the room— under the blinding disco lights while I find comfort in silence, away from people. He loved blasting beats and downing poison that'll get his adrenaline rushing for more excitement, while I prefer keeping my adrenaline down with some peaceful music. Sometimes, I wonder how did we even become a couple? We are so different; more often than not, different isn't always good. Then I remembered. We respected each other's boundaries. There are times when we would try the other's favorite activity. I attempted drinking, but it led me to the hospital because I was allergic to them. And dad grounded me for the entire summer. I never understood the term, life isn't fair, until that day. Apparently, it's wrong for me to drink—even when I'm only experimenting—but it's not for dad to indulge himself with bottle after bottle.

In exchange, Alex gave reading a shot. I picked out a horror-based novel since it's one of his favorite genres. The book was called Carrie by Stephen King. It is a story of a quiet, awkward high school girl who discovered she had telekinetic powers that she used to defend herself from her over-religious mother and torment her peers. I lent him the book on Monday, and he kept me up throughout the night, reading and sharing his many feelings towards the book. The next day we skipped school. He came over to my house, eyes matching a panda's and the energy of a sloth. Both of us are. He returned the book, and we took a long, much-needed nap.

It's safe to say he loved reading as he's already borrowed over seven books during summer vacation.

While mom and dad are occupied with their guests, I move to the basement to continue working on Wings.

I venture down and notice Ryan sleeping next to the mannequin. Only then did I realize she isn't allowed upstairs when there are guests. She's harmless—in fact, she loves people—but kids will be kids and behave as though she's Cerberus.

She rises upon noticing me, and I effortlessly stroke her chin before approaching Wings.

I reach for the remote to activate the motherboard of Wings. It felt no different than starting a vehicle where it takes a few pumps to get it fully working. Once the engine was stable, the metallic feathers began lining together, spreading the wings. The primary remiges of the feathers were stretched to their fullest length that it's touching the wall.

Witnessing this historical moment made me feel something I've never felt in a while. Happiness. I'm happy with how Wings turned out. I'm happy the first few steps have succeeded. I'm so glad that I may have finally finished the project... our project.

After letting the engine run for a few minutes, it's time to strap it on my back and take the first leap. Well, with the remote and tablet guidance, of course. With the belts buckled and around my waist, I was prepared to secure myself until mom came barging in.

"Jon!" She sounds pissed. "I told you to help with the party. Enough lollygagging down here!"

There goes my testing.

She marches towards me, where her shiny forehead glistens under the light. Her neat ponytail was now messed up, and tiny leaves were stuck in it. She yanks my arm before I even had a chance to shut Wings down. Thankfully, I've operated it to shut down automatically after a minute when it's not in use. Watching Ryan play security when she sits in front of Wings feels relieving in a way. It makes it seem like she's protecting Alex.

We made it out of the basement and headed straight to the kitchen. Everybody has gathered in the backyard as it is time for the cake-cutting ceremony. Mom releases my arm and rushes towards the bathroom to adjust her hair while I wait next to the kitchen table where the cake is. The three-layered monstrosity remains intact, and the candles are now lit. Well, the wax is melting over the cream every second. I hope the kids don't mind eating cake with wax toppings. Then again, they won't know the difference.

"I've set up a bar table by the pool," mom walks out of the bathroom, dabbing her sweaty forehead with some toilet paper. "And you're going to bring the cake out."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Why can't you do it?" She asks the same thing, eyes piercing into mine. She isn't pissed anymore, but neither is she happy.

"Fine."

She takes a deep breath, puts on one of her personality masks, and opens the door. The muffle chattering from the outside became more explicit, and so were the animals fussing because they were finally bored.

I keep my eyes on mom as she exists. Upon reaching, everyone gathers, forming a circle with Valerie standing in front of the table. Mom nods before turning the off the lights. Now, I'm in complete darkness, with only the candles providing some light.

I attempt to carry the cake. It's heavier than it looks. When I got a good grip on the bottom, I made my way out of the kitchen. Everyone then began singing the birthday song.

Every step I took with caution, as if I was walking on ice. The cake feels heavier each minute, blocking my view. However, I'm nearing the table where mom and Valerie are waiting. Everyone's mesmerized by its size and beauty that they had their phone cameras out.

And that's the last thing I remember before tripping over a kid who's chasing his toy car and having the cake splattered on the lawn.

I froze, hoping it was a nightmare and that I didn't actually ruin the cake. Clearing my blurry visions, the ruined cake displays before me. Icing got everywhere. My breath heaves as though I've forgotten how to breathe. My heart could explode from my chest, and sweat spawns across my forehead and back. I look up to see everyone's eyes on me. Some were concerned, and most were disappointed. Valerie buries her face in mom's lap, sobbing.

I forced myself up, trying to apologize, but I couldn't work it out. The words are caught in my throat that I could only babble unrecognizable words.

"I'm—it was—accident—I swe—"

Victoria approaches behind, handing me a towel while rubbing my back, calming me down. But I knew it was useless because I just caused a scene, and I hate being the center of attention, especially when I'm the cause.

I notice dad heading my way. Silent with his bloodshot eyes fixed on mine. In his hand grips a half-empty wine bottle, and I knew he was drunk right then with his shaky legs. Before I could muster the courage to speak, he slammed the bottle on my head, causing a ring in my ear. He then thrust his boot into my diaphragm, causing my lungs to burn as I fall to my side.

"Dad, stop!" My vision blurs, but clear enough to see Vic, Max, and a few other parents holding him back.

"I had just about enough of your shenanigans, boy!" He yells, eyes filled with hate. "You have gone astray for too long, and I had enough! If you're going to act like this, I'll gladly return the fucking favor!"

My head spins even when I'm trying to stand. I nearly fell back down, but I caught myself. A thick lump of liquid oozes down my forehead and enters my eyes. The familiar metallic smell emerges. I close an eye because it hurts when I blink.

He then reaches for a handful of cake and aims for my face. Cream and blood paint my features. I'm too numb to feel or say anything. My head throbs, and so does the remaining light in this dark heart. If there was even any light, to begin with. After years of abuse, today, it confirms that he is no longer my father, and I've lost all love and respect toward him.

"I'm sorry, Valerie," my mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear myself speak, for the ringing in my ear was still there. I'm not even sure if I'm looking at her.

I turn around and leave for my room. I shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. My arms secure my knees, supporting my forehead as I close my eyes to prevent myself from crying.

I fail.