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  I loved my boyfriend, Jared. We had been together for four years, and I hoped that one day he proposed, but that was the thing—he hadn’t proposed, yet. Most of our friends were getting married, but there had been no mention of marriage on his end. When I brought it up he changed the subject. Hell, we even lived together. That was practically like being married—why not make it official?

  “Brookie, you ready?” my best friend of fifteen years asked while walking in my front door without knocking.

  “Yep, does this look okay?” I asked Nicole, turning my five foot three inch frame to look at my ass in the bathroom mirror. The rhinestones on my jeans sparkled in the light as I moved. It was like a sign saying, “Look at my ass, people”. I just hoped it looked good in them and not too big.

  “You look fine. We’re going to be late.” She fixed her long blonde bangs that hung across her forehead. Nicole had recently grown out her hair. At one time, she’d cut it above her shoulders. It was cute, but I liked it long like she had it now with soft curls, a light spritz of hairspray, and a little past her shoulders.

  “How can I be late to my own party?” I chuckled, rolling my eyes at her.

  Nicole hated to be late. I, on the other hand, could stand to be five minutes late especially when it was my party. Not as though they could start without me. Growing up, I was always running late since I had to make sure my sister was ready and on time wherever she needed to be.

  “Whatever, let’s go. I’m hungry, and you know how I get when I’m hungry,” she pouted.

  I took one final look in the mirror, straightening out my sequined black tank top that I had paired with the bedazzled boot cut jeans and black platform heels. Checking to make sure my smoky grey eye shadow was a perfect contrast to my green eyes, I ran my hands through the flat-ironed, dark brown hair that hung to the middle of my back, giving it a little volume.

  “Did you remember to bring socks?”

  “Shit, no. I still can’t believe you want to go bowling for your birthday. We aren’t ten. We should go clubbing or something.”

  “I told you that I’ve always wanted to have a bowling party as a kid, but I never got one. Plus, we go out almost every weekend. Tonight I just want to go to dinner with my closest friends and get competitive with a few rounds of bowling. I want something different.”

  I always wanted my mom to throw me a bowling party, but she never did. She was always out of town on business, leaving my sister and me to fend for ourselves. The first time she’d went away I had just turned thirteen and my sister, Baliee, was six. I’d walked home from school to find a note left by my mom on the kitchen table with a hundred dollars to feed my sister and me for a week. I had no idea how to take care of a six-year-old, let alone myself. That was the day I stopped being a teenager and became an adult; a nurturer who always makes sure another person came before themselves.

  When I was in the ninth grade, I found out that those “business” trips were with boyfriends to lavish places. My mother always had a way with men. She could make them do whatever she wanted—like buy her gifts and take her to tropical islands with them. She never took us with her or introduced us to her companions, but she always brought us back a gift to try to make up for her being gone.

  Sometimes I would stand outside her bedroom door and listen to her on the phone. Of course, through doing that, I learned about phone sex. I never told her that I’d listened to her. If she was going to hide things from me, I was going to do the same.

  I hadn’t seen my mother in almost four years—since Bailee turned eighteen and went off to Berkeley. I didn’t care. It wasn’t as though she was around much when I was growing up anyway. She last told me that she moved to Beverly Hills to live with her rich boyfriend, whom I’ve never met. Bailee told me that she had tried to see our mom on the weekends, since Berkeley is only a short plane ride to Beverly Hills, but our mother always had plans.

  As for my father …What father? My mother had no idea who he was. Not having a loving set of parents when I was growing up probably mapped out the reason why I chose to find a job as a paralegal in Family Law. I didn’t do it for the divorces; I did it for the children. They were too innocent and needed to have someone unbiased fighting for them and what they deserved. I loved my job. I loved my co-workers aside from my pompous boss, who was having an affair with one of our clients. Thank God, he didn’t have children with his current wife. I’m not sure I would be able to help represent him during his divorce.

  “Jared, are you ready?” I asked, walking into the living room to see him sitting on the couch with his headphones on, playing Call of Duty—still.

  “Yeah, we’re almost done,” he said, his blue eyes never looking away from the fifty-inch TV. He continued to talk to his online friends through his headset as if Nicole and I weren’t standing there waiting for him with our hands on our hips.

  Of course, Jared wasn’t ready to go on time. His life revolved around video games. At first, it bugged me, but over the past four years, I’d realized that it could be worse. Nicole and I went out on Friday and Saturday nights and did our own thing while he stayed at home and played with his online friends. I guess it was better than him being out in bars with chicks hanging all over him.

  Yes, Nicole and I usually had guys hanging all over us whenever we hit the dance floor together, but I would never cheat on Jared. I didn’t think he would ever cheat on me either, but I had to admit that I did take comfort in knowing for sure that he was home and not cheating.

  “He’ll just be a minute,” I said to Nicole.

  “Figures,” she sighed as she grabbed her phone from her purse and began to scroll through it after she sat at the dining room table with a huff. “Let’s just go without him.”

  “I’m not going to my birthday party without my boyfriend,” I said, shaking my head at her.

  Nicole wasn’t a patient person. That was probably why we had been such good friends for so long. She took care of me by not letting people walk all over me, and I took care of her like an older sister, even though we were only a few months apart. Her parents had a healthy marriage, at least from the outside. You never knew what really went on in other people’s lives, and she’d never told me otherwise.

  We waited another fifteen minutes for Jared. Nicole wasn’t happy until I distracted her by shoving a shot of tequila in her face, her hazel eyes growing wide with approval. I figured we could take a birthday shot while he finished “saving the world”—a never ending effort that took up ninety percent of his life. You would think I was the other ten, but I wasn’t. I came after work, his mom, his friends …

  We finally arrived at the Cheesecake Factory about a half an hour later and met up with our friends Todd and Brandi who bought me my first drink of the night. After finishing off our meals followed by enough cheesecake to make us want to unbutton our pants, we made our way to the nearby bowling alley.

  Three of our friends who couldn’t make it to dinner were there to meet us, and we began a game of girls versus boys. Unfortunately, for me, I wasn’t on my game that night. Usually, I could throw a few strikes or at least a spare, but something was off. Of course, bowling and alcohol weren’t a good combination, but I bowled my worst score ever.

  After the game of girls versus boys, my friend Tonia and I went in search of the restroom to freshen up. Nicole was busy flirting with one of my co-workers who she’d met at my office holiday party a few months prior, and I didn’t want to interrupt her. She had been asking about Mike nonstop ever since then, and once she found out he was coming to my birthday party, I think she’d been looking forward to this night more than I had.

  As I washed my hands and checked myself out in the mirror, I was surprised to see that I still looked good. I thought for sure that my makeup would be running because I was sweating from all the physical exertion … and maybe the alcohol.

  “Let’s get another drink before we go back,” I said, drying my hands and fluffing my hair.

  “Le
t’s,” Tonia agreed, smoothing down her short, black hair.

  Tonia was beautiful inside and out. She was one of the sweetest people I knew, and physically she reminded me of Storm from the X-Men movies. We’d met while we were both in school to become paralegals, but she moved to another town after we graduated and we rarely hung out anymore.

  We walked to the bar and my heart sank. A brunette was leaning on the bar, turned towards Jared and touching his arm as he smiled and talked to her.

  That tramp just touched my man!

  Tonia moved over to the far end of the bar to order us another round of drinks, but my eyes stayed glued on the pair, curious of what they were talking about. Jared wasn’t a very social person outside of his gaming shenanigans. He had friends, and I wasn’t his first girlfriend, but he was just a homebody, and I was a little shocked to see him socializing—and with a girl, nonetheless.

  I stayed back, watching the two—curious of what Jared was doing. After all, it was my birthday and he was flirting with someone in plain sight. As I watched them, waiting for Tonia to return with my drink, the girl took Jared’s phone and then returned it to him after a few seconds.

  Did she just give him her number?

  “Hey!” I said brightly, wrapping my arms around his waist in a tight hug. I nuzzled his neck and then tucked my chin over his shoulder as my eyes shot daggers at the tramp. To be fair, I didn’t know if she was a tramp or not, but she needed to back the fuck off because alcohol made me feisty.

  “Oh hey, Brooke,” he said, looking over to the brunette as though he had just been caught. “This is Tarah. Tarah, this is my … girlfriend, Brooke.”

  The pause before my “title” didn’t go unnoticed, and the way he’d said “girlfriend” made me want to punch him in the face for being a jackass.

  “Oh,” Tarah said, looking a little surprised.

  The situation had quickly turned awkward. Tarah’s expression and tone surprised me. I never thought that Jared had a wandering eye, and I never thought he would be willing to cheat on me; he never left our apartment unless it was to go to work or the gym with his friends. Yet here I stood, feeling uneasy and a little insecure.

  I didn’t know if I was supposed to be polite in this scenario. I mean, this tramp obviously wanted my man—that was clear. They say, “kill them with kindness,” but really I wanted to punch her in the fucking face after I punched Jared. Hmmm, maybe what people said about discovering who you really are at thirty was true. Maybe I was supposed to kick some motherfucking ass and stop letting people use me.

  Deciding to stick with the “killing her with kindness” shit for now, I stuck out my hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I didn’t know Jared had a friend named Tarah.” I knew there was a hint of sarcasm in my voice, but who could blame me?

  “Oh, we just met,” she purred.

  “Oh, well, not to steal your new friend, but our friends are waiting to start the next game.” This time there was heavy sarcasm in my voice.

  Jared turned in his seat and stood, disentangling himself from my arms as he gave Tarah the Tramp an apologetic smile.

  What the fuck?

  Tonia joined me as I turned to head back to our lane with Jared following behind.

  “What was that all about?” she whispered close to my ear as she handed me a peach Long Island Iced Tea.

  “Tramps,” I replied. She knew what I meant and didn’t need me to tell her the whole story.

  After the boys had beaten the girls at a few games, we decided to switch things up and created co-ed teams, but it didn’t make any difference; my team still lost. I was pissed, but easily forgot about it when I took a sip of my liquid courage. Over the course of the night, several of my friends had bought me fishbowl-sized drinks, and I was feeling pretty damn happy. So happy I couldn’t shut up. I talked and talked, forgetting about tramps and sucking at bowling.

  Finally, the night was over, and I was stumbling to the car with Nicole not far behind me on the drunken scale.

  “I’m hungry,” I slurred as Jared drove us home.

  “I can make you something when we get home,” he replied.

  “I want Taco Bell.”

  “Yeah, let’s go to Taco Bell!” Nicole shouted from the backseat, giving a little clap as well.

  “No wait, I want donuts. Where can we get donuts?”

  “Oh, donuts sound yummy,” Nicole concurred.

  “I think you two just need to sleep,” Jared said, crushing our dreams of Taco Bell and donuts.

  “No, I’m pretty sure I want Taco … oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick,” I said, rolling down the window of my SUV for some cool air.

  The cool, February night air swept across my face, making me feel slightly better. I could usually hold my alcohol; it was rare that I was ever drunk enough to throw up or be hungover the next day. Of course, that probably had something to do with me always being the designated driver.

  I sat with the winter air flowing through my hair as I leaned on the windowsill and started to drift off to sleep. “Don’t forget tacos and donuts,” I said to Jared in a hushed voice as I fell asleep.

  “Brooke, wake up. We’re home,” Jared said, shaking my left arm from the driver’s side.

  “I don’t want to!” I shouted at him.

  “Why the fuck are you yelling?” Nicole asked, finally waking up herself.

  “We’re home. Time to get out of the car,” Jared replied.

  I fiddled with my seatbelt for a few seconds until it finally sprang open. Jared came around to the passenger side door, opening it before grabbing my hand to lead me out. Walking up a flight of stairs was really hard when you were drunk; I almost fell three times going up the thirteen steps.

  “Yep, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick,” I said as he led me to our bedroom.

  “I’m going to go get you some water and make sure Nicole is settled on the couch,” he said after making sure I made it to our bed okay.

  As I lay on our queen-size bed, remembering how much fun I had finally having my bowling party, a wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks—bricks I wanted to throw at tramps.

  I was sick.

  So sick I barely made it to the bathroom before the evening’s dinner came up with the tremendous amount of booze I had drunk. I didn’t remember much of anything after that.

  I later found out that I’d passed out where I was, sprawled on the bathroom floor in my pajama pants and the sequined tank top I’d worn that night with my arm draped over my head, shielding the bright light overhead.

  Of course, Jared took a picture of this.

  One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.

  Sun seeped through my bedroom blinds as I somehow woke up in our bed the next morning with Jared next to me and my head pounding. Fucking hangovers.

  “Happy birthday,” Jared said as he rolled over to lie face to face with me.

  “Thank you.” I smiled.

  “I forgot to tell you after midnight before you went to bed … I mean, passed out in the bathroom.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I groaned. My head was pounding, and the right side of my body was sore from bowling.

  “What do you want to do today?”

  “Lay here.”

  Why did I drink so much last night? Now I didn’t want to do anything on my actual birthday.

  “Happy birthday!” Nicole screamed, running and jumping on the bed like a little kid on Christmas morning wanting to wake her parents. At least that was what I had seen in the movies. My mom always had “business trips” and I learned at a young age Santa didn’t exist.

  “Oh my God, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I am going to punch you in the fucking face!” I shouted back at her, making my head hurt that much more.

  I groaned into my pillow as Jared laughed. “Brooke’s hungover.”

  “Well, I want to go to breakfast, so get your ass up. It’s your birthday, and I’m not letting you stay in bed all day. This is not how you are going to
start your dirty thirties.”

  “Fuck you! Don’t remind me.”

  “It’s not my fault you’re older than me.” Nicole laughed, walking out of the room.

  Fuck me … I was thirty. Where had the time gone? It seemed just yesterday I was in high school, and Nicole and I were ditching class to go shopping.

  “How are you not hungover?” I asked Nicole when I finally made it out to the living room after getting dressed.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You ready so we can go to breakfast now?”

  After drinking a glass of water and taking a handful of aspirin, I drove with Nicole and Jared down the street from our apartment for breakfast at Denny’s.

  My sister called me on the way to Denny’s to wish me a happy birthday. I hadn’t seen Bailee since her winter break from Berkeley. I was proud of her. I was a bit jealous that she was able to go to college, but at least I’d raised her right. When she told me almost four years ago that she was leaving Boston to go to sunny California, I was crushed. I felt like my own daughter was leaving since I’d practically raised her since she was six—no, scratch that. I did raise her. My mother shouldn’t get credit for being a parent when she was only home a few weeks out of the year.

  Not only did Bailee call to wish me a happy birthday, but she also called to tell me that she and her friends were planning on going to Cabo for Spring Break instead of coming home. Having Bailee tell me that I wasn’t going to see her until the summer was not a very good birthday present and made me more sick to my stomach. Nothing sounded good except pitch darkness and my bed.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said, pushing my menu away from me.

  “What happened to tacos and donuts?” Jared smiled, acting as though he was the funniest person in the world.

  “Eww, if you mention that again, I’m going to throw up all over you,” I said, pointing at him.

  The waitress came and took our order, and I finally decided on pancakes and bacon. I hoped the grease from the bacon would make me feel better and that the pancakes would soak up all of the alcohol … as though bread does. Bread does that, right? I should have asked Jared. I’m sure there was an episode of Mythbusters about that.