Happy Fucking Birthday to You
After getting some green tea from the kitchen, I sit down at my desk and log on to Facebook to check the inane shit Holly has posted since I last looked. It’s strange to have a pretty decent memory of each time she was doing something on her cell phone the last time we hung out and then be able to see each and every thing she was posting. It’s the only thing that stops me from asking her what she’s doing on her phone every time she’s typing away in my presence.
As soon as I go to her page, I realize that it’s unmistakably her birthday. There are forty-six posts on her wall, each with their own collection of comments all wishing her a happy birthday and asking what kind of presents she wants or where she wants to go out to dinner or how drunk she plans on getting. I had no idea it was her birthday at all. I scroll through all of the recent posts that have anything to do with her birthday, and I sleuth out a few things. Donald Himmel definitely wants to fuck her. Ken Grint definitely wants to fuck her. Tommy Hooper probably has fucked her, based on his comment, “Wish it could be your birthday eve two years ago. Bomb! Night. Up for a replay?” But beyond all this, I learn the most from one of her own comments to a post from Tony Berg that reads, “What chu need fur yer bday lady?” Holly replies, “My laptop is fried. Got a new one laying around hahaha?”
I don’t know if Holly expects me to know that it’s her birthday or not. We’ve never discussed anything remotely approaching the topic, but I can only assume that, because she knows I’m on Facebook and we’re friends, she thinks I should know.
At lunch, I go to CVS and get her a card. I don’t want it to say anything about love, but even though she swallowed a load of my semen less than forty-eight hours before this, I want the card to have a clear message of romance, so it doesn’t seem like I’m just a friend. I find one with a flower on it that reads, “I’m so glad you are in my life. Happy Birthday!” This is perfect. I get some wrapping paper, some tape, and some scissors and head back to the car.
After CVS I drive through McDonald’s and get lunch, then head to an Apple Store, where I have to deal with a teenager trying to upsell me on the most expensive laptop they have. I finally convince him that I’m unwilling to buy anything more costly than the bottom-of-the-barrel Macbook Pro, which is still fucking twelve hundred dollars. I reason that this will make Holly extremely happy, and the amount of fucking we’ve done has already been worth at least twelve hundred dollars, compared to the money I’ve spent on Alyna over the years versus the amount and quality of sex we’ve had.
Back in the car, I finish my fries, then do the worst wrapping job I’ve ever done in my life on Holly’s new computer. When I get back to the office, I think briefly about waiting for Holly to go to the bathroom and surprising her by sitting the computer and the card on her chair. Thankfully I think this through to its logical conclusion, which involves far too many witnesses, so instead I send her an IM that reads, “Can you come into my office please?”
She comes in and sits down across from me. I say, “First of all, happy birthday,” and I hand her the card. She smiles and says, “Ooh, thank you. I thought maybe you forgot.”
This implies that I would have known before I forgot and confirms my initial suspicion that she expected me to know, even though we’d never discussed it. I don’t bring this up. I wait for her to read the card in which I’ve written the following note:
“Holly, I know the circumstances aren’t the best but I can’t tell you how glad I am that I stayed late that night to help you in the file room. You’ve made me happier than I thought I could be since we met, and I just want you to know that you’re very special to me and I’m excited to see where this goes. Happy Birthday.”
I expect her to say something similar to me after she finishes reading it. I hope she’ll tell me how important I am to her or how much she enjoys spending time with me. This is not the case. After she reads it she says, “Thanks. That’s really cool,” then she sits the card on the edge of my desk and stands up to leave.
I say, “I also got you a present.”
This gets a big smile from her—a real smile. She says, “What? Really?”
I say, “Yeah,” and pull out the computer.
She looks at it and says, “Should I unwrap it in here?”
I say, “Sure.”
She unwraps the computer and almost shits her pants. She says, “Oh my fucking god. Are you even serious right now? A fucking Macbook?”
I say, “Pro.”
She says, “Yeah, I don’t think they make the regular ones anymore. This is so cool. I so need a new computer, too. Oh my fucking god. Thank you so much.”
She hugs me and says, “Is it cool if I leave it in here, in your office until after work? I don’t want to be messing with it at my desk.”
I say, “Yeah.”
She kisses me on the cheek and says, “Oh my god! Thank you so much,” then heads back out to her desk.
I sit back down at my desk and look at the card I gave her, which she’s left on the edge of my desk. I didn’t spend much time crafting the message inside, but I’d still hoped it would produce some emotional reaction in her. I had hoped it would serve as a verbal admission of the affection that I’ve genuinely started to feel for Holly, and prompt a similar reaction from her. Instead it sits at the edge of my desk, just shy enough of the edge that it won’t fall off. It reminds me of Holly sleeping on the opposite edge of the bed from me at night. I decide I’m reading too much into it, take out my phone, and cue up some pictures of her bending over and spreading her ass so I can see her perfect asshole.