"Can you just walk right?" I asked her, snarling.
She shook her head. "No .. it hurts."
I rolled my eyes. Clinton turned to me.
"Baby, I'll just take her outside."
"What ?!" I hissed annoyingly.
"I didn't bring my car. Please take me," said Berna, who still clings to Clinton.
Clinton seems so worried.
"Okay." he sighed. "We'll deliver you."
I exploded in anger. "What? Why do we have to take her home? She's not a child anymore! She's even older than me! " I rant.
Berna's cheek immediately turned red.
"Nicole, tone down your voice. You're making a scene!" Clinton scolded me.
So always? He always defends Berna!
"Me? Still me? "I pointed to myself." I am not the one who is making a scene here! She makes herself twitch there to grab attention! It's our date, Clinton! She ruined it! "
And it is my fucking birthday!
Clinton gasped and closed his eyes.
"It hurts." and now Berna's crying.
"Okay, I'll drive you home."
Anger flared up in me when I heard that. So, are they close, huh?
"Okay! You bring her! I'll walk alone! And you'll never come near me again from now on!" I cried, holding back the tears because I was in so much pain.
"Nicole." he protested, but I immediately ran out.
I tearfully went home to my unit and flopped on the bed. My birthday is the worst. It's painful, and my family doesn't love me anymore. I'm also not sure if Clinton loves me.
I fell asleep crying and woke up late at night. I woke up immediately remembering the concert! What the hell! I can't help but go! I bought an expensive ticket!
I wear flat ring sandals, a crop top shirt, and black shorts!
I don't care if my eyes were puffy from crying. Only tonight will I let myself be happy. All by myself.
So I went to the concert all by myself. I ignored the cold wind.
Behind me were light objects already carried by the audience. Glowing cellphones, headbands that glow in women's hair, and handle that glow. If in the distance, it looks like twinkling stars.
Waves of people roared when the singer came out!
"Whooo! I love you !!" I shouted! But it was also drowned out by shouting voices.
The people shouted and even cried because of seeing their idols in person. When the singer sang the song, we also sang. If they weep with joy and gladness, I, on the other hand, was crying with sadness.
I let out a scream until I ended up crying. I felt my tears flow.
I wiped my tears, waved my hand, and swayed according to the melody and song.
"H-Happy birthday, self." I cried.
But I stiffened when someone hugged my waist. He hugged me from the back. He kissed my hair.
"Happy birthday, baby," Clinton whispered, and he put something on my neck. At the same time, I was still stiff in shock!
I rubbed the cold thing on my neck that he had placed. It's a necklace!
He buried his face in my neck. We were in the middle as the people continued to swing, and he hugged me from behind.
"You're 'h-here."
"I'm sorry." He cursed something on my neck like he regretted something.
Gradually, a smile popped from my lips, and joy rose in my system.
"T-Thank you," I said.
"I love you, baby." He said for the first time.
This is the happiest birthday for me.
****
My parents fell in love then, and I was their child. But they seem to have been together for a year and then separated. My dad cheated.
I don't know if it can be called a cheat because before my grandmother lost her life, the one who raised me was before Mama and Papa got married; they said Papa had a previous child. When they separated, my mother left me with my grandmother and went with her man.
When my grandmother died when I was fifteen, my dad came home from the US to buy me a condo unit. As a child, I was aware that I could be practical. I was tired of sulking and crying because I knew I had no other foundation.
Only four corners of my room witnessed all my emotions and how I cried in pain, how I screamed in agony, how I cried with joy.
I leave all that fragility here in my room, and the face appears cheerful, happy, and without a trace of sadness.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I can buy everything I want, even if it's worth a million a minute, but I'm searching for my parents' love.
Life is so unfair. If you don't want to be miserable, learn to keep up with the flow of the world.
Five months passed, and Clinton filled my whole life with love. I no longer stay in my room and am always in his suite.
I am wearing my pajamas and white shirt with my bra. I don't want Clinton to be a pervert because I know he is so like that!! I sleep here every night, and Clinton's room is filled with our passionate kisses.
At school, Clinton and I talked. Some women harass me because I'm Clinton's flavor of the month, they say.
The oppressor is not in my vocabulary. I feel too sorry for myself to be oppressed by others.
I have no backing in times of sadness or my grievances. So I don't want to be oppressed. I will fight as long as I breathe.
I was in the chair and watching Clinton's back, cooking fried rice. He put some meat there that I had yet to try to put in fried rice.
He is very handsome. Even though he is only twenty-four, his body is molded like a worker.
He's topless and wearing white pajamas. So earlier, I was looking at the bulge between his thighs. That size is terrible!
I stood up and saw him look at me. I opened the refrigerator and took out some chocolate there. He has a lot of chocolate here. Since we've been in the relationship, he has been storing chocolate in his refrigerator.
I took the Toblerone there and tore it into the box to eat. I sat back in the chair, and Clinton was done. I saw him staring at me.
I grinned and was about to bite the chocolate when he snatched it from me.
"Hey! It's mine!"
He shook his head, pulled up a chair at the table, and signaled me to sit there.
"Eat first. Too early for sweets."
So I was exhausted, did nothing, and just ate first. He put my water when it was empty and gave me the milk he had mixed.