“Ten times the rains came and went—and still Mowgli lived with the wolves!” Hannah cried out. “Mowgli the man cub loved the pack, and thought of them as his brothers. But then, one day—everything changed! The tiger Shere Khan had returned to the jungle!”
“Very good!” Tabitha praised, glancing down at the Disney storybook page to confirm Hannah had the correct words. “But, remember what I said about the dramatic delivery?”
“When you read every single sentence as dramatic—then, none of them are dramatic!” Hannah answered with all the theatrics she could muster, then dissolved into a fit of giggles, falling back against the bed.
Tabitha’s animated style of storytelling had impressed upon the seven year old girl, and now it was rare that Hannah ever read or recited a single line without ensuring its delivery was as sensational as possible. Pregnant pauses in search of anticipation found their way into every sentence that would bear them—and some that would not—bombastic gestures and exclamations punctuated everything Hannah had to say during storytelling time. The little girl’s enthusiasm for hyping up everything she possibly could was difficult to stifle, too, because Hannah knew how silly it was. In fact, she thought it was hilarious.
After which point our nightly little game of storybook reading turned the Disney book club hardcover collection into an experience where Hannah evangelizes each and every page to us, Tabitha thought, shaking her head in amusement. Great job, Tabitha. Great. Just go and show Hannah that you can just exaggerate whatever words you want when you talk. THAT’S a great thing for her to learn. Can only imagine what her friends at school and her teacher are beginning to think.
“Okay, Hannah Montana,” Tabitha clapped the book closed. “I think that’s a good stopping point for tonight.”
“Because you havta go talk to the moms?” Hannah asked with excitement, rocking back on her bed.
“Because you have to go to bed, Hannah cabana,” Tabitha teased. “Aren’t you sleepy?”
“A little bit,” Hannah reported, working to throw back her covers. “A little bit sleepy.”
That the girl was willing to admit she was sleepy, when it was bedtime, felt like a triumphant victory. After discovering that Hannah seemed to absorb everything and anything she said, Tabitha had strived to always provide reasonings that Hannah would understand and internalize. When asked that inevitable but why do I have to go to bed, instead of answering with the standard because it’s bed time, or the even worse because I said so, Tabitha told her that focusing on how sleepy she felt made her enjoy her rest more when she did sleep—it was just like being hungry, and then finding the next meal all that much more fulfilling.
I know you still want to stay up and do things, Tabitha had said. But, since we all have to sleep anyways, isn’t it better to stretch out under the covers, get real cozy and comfy, and find your sleep real SATISFYING?
By all rights that shouldn’t have worked, but Hannah seemed to hang on Tabitha’s every word and idolize her. This past weekend, after playing evil corporate publishing firm with Hannah using the dollhouse and Barbies and then having a big lunch, Tabitha had taken advantage of the low energy sleepy Sunday afternoon feeling and confided to the seven year old her big secret. Unlike other kids, Tabitha actually loved sleeping. She hated having to be awake when she was tired, and a nap right then and there would be amazing. Hannah had been skeptical at first, and continued playing with her toys for a bit after Tabitha laid down. An hour later when Tabitha rose from her nap, however she discovered Hannah curled up right beside her on the couch, sound asleep.
This is why I love Hannah, Tabitha thought to herself. No way in HELL would that ever work with my cousins.
“But, you’re going to go talk to the moms?” Hannah asked again. “About your party?”
“Maybe?” Tabitha let out a helpless laugh as she helped tuck Hannah in. “Hannah savannah, they could be here for anything. I can’t just assume it’s about me!”
“It’s about your party,” Hannah said. “You should say you want it to be Chuck-e-Cheese. Chuck-e-Cheese or Discovery Zone. And, you already used Hannah savannah earlier.”
“I did?” Tabitha pursed her lips in a pout. “Oh right, at dinner. Hmm. Thennn, Hannah bandana, if they’re here about the party, I’ll keep your wisdom in mind.”
“No putt-putt golf,” Hannah advised her. “That’s boring.”
“Okay, okay,” Tabitha laughed. “I’ll try to ask for something exciting. Like… bowling!”
“Nooooo,” Hannah protested. “Boriiiing!”
“Bible study, maybe? Bird-watching?” Tabitha asked. “Hmm, that sounds like a fun activity. I can ask everyone to bring their own binoculars?”
“Pfphhttttt!” Hannah blew out a raspberry.
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Tabitha leaned over to comb an errant strand of hair out of Hannah’s face and then sat back. “I promise I’ll pick something fun.”
“I just want you to have a really fun birthday,” Hannah sighed in exasperation. “That’s important.”
“I always have fun with you, Hannah cabana,” Tabitha said. “It won’t matter what I pick for the party.”
“No, it matters a lot,” Hannah insisted. “It has to be more fun. Like Chuck-e-Cheese fun, or Discovery Zone fun. Your birthday needs to be special. You always say every day is fun.”
“Well,” Tabitha paused, fighting to keep a sudden wave of melancholy from appearing in her expression. “Every day is fun, now.”
Hannah studied her face for a long moment as if able to sense something was wrong.
“Okay,” Hannah finally said. “But, no putt-putt.”
“No putt-putt, no bowling,” Tabitha assured her. “Got it. Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Alright, Tabitha dear,” Mrs. Williams said, settling in across the dining table from her and Sandra. “Let’s talk about your birthday!”
“Okay,” Tabitha flushed with embarrassment, shoulders stiff and hands pressed into her lap.
The fact that her birthday was a big deal to the people around her now was always going to be difficult to adjust to. She’d gone literal decades without anyone celebrating it at all, at best it had just been an excuse to treat herself to takeout on the way home from work, or something like that. Even in her previous childhood, birthdays had little fanfare attached to them. By rote her father would bring home a small cake, her parents would sing Happy Birthday for her, and she would unwrap whatever clothes or sundries she picked out for the occasion—Mr. Moore would take her ‘birthday shopping’ in the month prior, and then that stuff would be put away and wrapped for her until the tenth of December. There certainly were never any surprises, no guests, no presents from others.
It’s actually a little mortifying? Tabitha had to actually try really hard to accept this new normal where a birthday was some kind of event; it took conscious effort. A tiny part of me’s just in love with it, but then the rest of me keeps saying ‘wait, why would I deserve any of THIS?’
“First thing’s first—some basics. Who will be invited?” Mrs. Williams asked, withdrawing a small notepad and a pen from her purse. “How big do you want your party to be? Mostly family, mostly friends, both? Do you want it to be something more grown up, with just teenagers, so that you don’t have to worry about, well—Hannah being underfoot and getting in the way of everything?”
“Oh, um, no,” Tabitha shook her head in a decisive negative. “I want it to be for everyone. Hannah absolutely has to be there.”
“If you’re sure—well, it’s your funeral!” Karen couldn’t help but steal a glance at her friend Sandra’s beaming smile before turning her attention back to jotting down her thoughts.
“And,” Tabitha added on, “if it’s okay, also my four cousins, they’re also all in elementary still.”
“All boys?” Karen asked.
“Yes,” Tabitha winced. “Sorry.”
“No no no, that’s fine, we can make sure they’re wrangled and entertained too, believe me,” Mrs. Macintire assured her. “Somehow. I take it Miss Elena and Miss Alicia go without saying?”
“Yes, definitely!” Tabitha nodded.
“Who else?” Karen probed.
“Matthew, and Casey, for sure,” Tabitha paused. “And… um. I don’t know his name, but there was this… boy, from the Halloween party—”
“Oh?” Sandra sat up slightly with new interest.
“Go on!” Karen grinned.
“I think he was… a power ranger?” Tabitha laughed. “He was in a green getup, and I’m told he was the one who, um, tackled Erica off of me after she attacked me. I never got a chance to thank him, but Elena told me about what he did, and so… I’d really like to invite him. Both him and his girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Sandra deflated in her seat.
“Okay,” Karen chuckled. “That would be… a Mike, I think my husband said his name was. His girlfriend Olivia is part of our youth group, with Matthew and Casey. I’ll have them extend your invitation!”
“Thank you,” Tabitha said. “Then, from Springton High, there’s a girl named Clarissa, and a boy named Bobby I’d like to invite. I think I can have my friends reach them at school about it.”
“Not the same Clarissa that was bullying you?” Mrs. Williams wrote down the names.
“It’s… yes, that exact same Clarissa,” Tabitha shrugged. “She apologized, I told her that I forgive her and that I wanted to be friends, and then—I dropped off the face of the planet. Was in the hospital, and then just recovering at home, and never followed up on reaching out and connecting with her like I meant to. I want to at least extend an invitation to her.”
“Hmm,” Karen said. “Okay.”
“On that note, also Ashlee Taylor—Erica Taylor’s little sister,” Tabitha frowned. “We used to be friends, and part of that friendship… ending poorly, led to the misunderstanding where Erica was singling me out to harass me. I don’t know that she would come even if we invited her, but I would like to try to make amends and work towards repairing that relationship. So; Ashlee Taylor.”
“Mm-hmm,” Karen pursed her lips. “That’s very big-hearted of you, hon. I heard from Mrs. Cribb that the girl threw some sort of fuss when she was driven out to visit you in the hospital, though—so. I have to tell you, if there’s any chance this Ashlee girl is going to throw any kind of crazy fit at your party, she’s not to be allowed anywhere near you. This is your birthday party, it’s for you to have a great time. Okay, honey?”
“We’re not having any repeats of that Halloween party,” Mrs. Macintire crossed her arms. “I’m not real sure about Ashlee or that Clarissa girl. Wouldn’t it be better to just not have anyone threatening around at all? Tabitha, it’s your party and you can invite whoever you’d like, but we’d like to be very very sure there won’t be any incidents this time.”
“Understood,” Tabitha gave the two women a sober nod. “I’d still like to at least try to invite them. On that note… well, about my parents...”
There was a tense silence as they waited to see what she would say.
“I… I’ve thought about it, and I think considering the… I think it wouldn’t be good for them to be there in a situation where they still haven’t, um. Where they can’t have any sort of meaningful discussion with me. When there are things that I. I don’t think I can just brush off. I—I mean to say, I’m not quite ready to reconcile where I am now with my life, to where I was even just a week or two ago. Certainly not at a birthday party. I think it would be difficult for them, and uh, stressful for me, and—”
“Perfectly okay,” Mrs. Macintire promised, reaching over to put a hand over Tabitha’s. “Hey, that’s totally fine.”
“So, I think rather than my birthday party, I’d like to sit down with my parents for a dinner, some other evening,” Tabitha finished with a wince. “Maybe if, if one of you could also be present? I would love that. I think that… I think that everyone who’s… being difficult or um, or having difficulties with this, would be less outspoken, or prone to speak without due consideration, if both my grandmother Laurie and one or both of you were there.”
“She means her father,” Sandra tattled to Karen in a murmur.
“Oh hush,” Mrs. Williams sighed. “You’re completely right. That’s a wonderful idea, Tabitha dear. We’ll keep the birthday party for fun and friends, and then you can have a much more private little dinner get together for your immediate family. In case that gets… serious.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Tabitha seemed to sag with relief. “For understanding, and—for being so supportive. It means everything to me.”
“Oh, stop, don’t you worry about a thing,” Mrs. Williams waved her off. “Now. Where would you like to go for your party?”
“I have something in mind, but just,” Tabitha tried not to make a face. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if it’s too expensive, okay?”
Then, Tabitha revealed to them her elaborate birthday plan.
“No, you can absolutely invite Bobby to your party,” Alicia teased into the phone. “But you have to invite him. I’m not inviting him for you. I’m not lettin’ ‘Lena invite him for you, either!”
Alicia’s room had been a mess these past few weeks, because the drafting table that usually went up against the far wall was taking up more space than usual. She’d gotten the thing last Christmas and was incredibly proud of it, because with its slanted surface and adjustable lamp on an arm it made her feel like a serious, professional artist. More recently, when she’d unscrewed the back legs and let it drop down so that the tabletop surface was flat for once, the whole thing needed to be pulled an extra half foot out from where it usually rested. She’d gouged her hip on those treacherous corners in passing more than once before getting used to how much further it stuck out. The table was solid and stable thankfully, and though she’d accidentally bumped into it those several times, the Spirit of Tabitha sitting on top in all its badass glory had never had any unfortunate mishaps.
“Aliciaaa,” Tabitha’s groan warbled from the handset’s speaker. “Please?”
“Nope. Nuh-uh, not gonna,” Alicia laughed. “You know, I’ve already got enough rivals for your affection. I’m not gonna go addin’ in more myself! That’s on you.”
The Spirit of Tabitha—the badass Dragon Models Y-F22 Lightning 2 dominating Alicia’s desk was a fighter jet model she’d built and painted herself, in preparation for Tabitha’s birthday. Alicia had finagled a trip out of town with Casey to pick it up, and then she’d huddled in close beside her dad while he showed her the basics on how to assemble model kit things, using one of the many Star Wars model sets he’d never gotten around to finishing.
Putting the F-22 together herself from the printed instructions afterwards was surprisingly easy, dotting the tiniest little spots of superglue and then smearing them along until they were just a perfect wet glint—carefully fitting it all together and watching it take shape in her hands was really cool. Alicia had practiced painting first on a dollar store plastic fighter jet from an army men set, starting with the primer, then the basecoat, additional colors, metallic sheen, highlights, and finally adding a distinctive wash.
After all that, painting the actual expensive F-22 model was a breeze; at 1:72 scale it was much larger than the toy she’d practiced on, she’d learned a trick for steadying her fingers, and her dad insisted she thin her paints and take her time layering enough that the few kludgy mistakes she did make became trivial to correct. The interior of the cockpit was carefully detailed and decorated to perfection with careful work of a paintbrush clipped down to only three or four thin bristles. The tiny little pilot had his helmeted head clipped off, and a rudimentary likeness of Tabitha was approximated with a tiny bead of sculpey that Alicia prodded and poked into desired shape using toothpick and tweezers.
The miniature Tabitha face didn’t look good, certainly not under a magnifying glass, but you could tell who it was supposed to be from the way the hair was, which was of course painted Tabitha’s distinctive orangish red. That was all now finished and sealed beneath the clear plastic canopy glued into place. Alicia had no idea what the futuristic fighter jet had been painted like in the fever dream Tabitha had described to them, so she adhered to the basic paint guide illustrated on the model’s box, right down to the little red stripes on the tail fins. The end result—it looked incredible, and she swelled with pride and anticipation every time she admired it.
Coolest birthday present I’ll have ever given anyone. By like, MILES.
“Very funny,” Tabitha sighed, jarring Alicia back to the conversation at hand. “You and Elena see him there at school, so—”
“Nah, we don’t, really,” Alicia blew out an aggrieved sigh. “I know of him, but I don’t know him. Don’t have classes with him, and Elena’s—Elena’s anti-social now. Literally. She was social before, and now she is anti.”
“That’s—could you just pass him a note from me, then?” Tabitha groaned. “How about that? You were fine with inviting Michael and Olivia, and we barely know them any better than Bobby!”
“Totally different. I think… if you’re only inviting Bobby ‘cause he’s cute and you’re kinda interested, then flat out you need to have the cojones to invite him yourself,” Alicia said, using her fingertips to gently rotate the sheet of paper the Spirit of Tabitha rested on, so that she could see it from every angle again. “That’s important. How is it fair to have us go around doin’ your dirty work, huh? You wanna talk to cute boys, you’ve gotta talk to cute boys.”
“Fine!” Tabitha said in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll get a hold of him through his brother, I know where he works, at least.”
“Wait, really?” Alicia asked.
“Yes, his brother works at the gas station right by—”
“No, are you really gonna ask Bobby to go to your party?” Alicia clarified. “Like, what are you gonna say? You’ve barely ever talked to him, he doesn’t really know you, and what’s your rationale, huh? ‘Uhhh hey you’re cute, come to my party?’ What are you gonna say?”
“It’s not—it’s not like that, I don’t like him or anything,” Tabitha insisted. “Okay?”
“Thennnn, why is it so important that this guy you don’t even really know goes to your party?” Alicia countered, amused and indignant and a little guilty for how petty she was feeling about this all at once. “Huh? Do you know him from the future? Does he become some celebrity bigshot?”
“No. Just. Because—I want him to,” Tabitha mustered her best defense. “I don’t remember anything about him at all, from my last life. I just think it’d be cool if he was there. I don’t like him, our age difference stuff is… you know how complicated that is.”
“Okay,” Alicia was silent for a few moments. “Then—why are you wanting him there? Walk me through this, so we can be on the same page. You’re making it complicated. What are you even gonna do about that? Dating, I mean. You just not gonna date ‘til you’re eighteen? The weird age difference’ll still be there then, too. Only gonna go after way older guys? That’s just as weird. I think. You’ve dated before, right? Like, in your last life? Your previous one?”
“I dated before,” Tabitha said in a stiff voice. “It went—it went very, very poorly, it gave me some issues, and because of that I, I, I resigned myself to just not dating. To just being single. But, I don’t want to do that this time. I want to, to—get everything right, this time through. Do everything the way I always wanted to.”
“Pfftt, do everything, huh?” Alicia snorted. “Wow, damn. So, doing Bobby is your—”
“Funny. Yes, Alicia, I do want to have sex in this lifetime, but no, I do not want that with Bobby, nor do I want that anytime soon! At all! Maybe in like—my mid-twenties somewhere, when I’m maybe less of a basket case about age stuff and oh god EW feeling like I’m a pedo or a groomer or—or all that. Okay, Alicia?
“What I want is to have crushes, have normal-for-this-age dates and stuff, eventually later fall in love, like fall deeply, head-over-heels in love with someone, to have someone feel that way for me, like I’m their whole world, like, like—Alicia, I’ve already done the alone forever and plenty bitter and miserable about it thing. I’m just not fucking doing that again. I’m not gonna miss out on everything, this time. I’m not going to let all of these things pass me by.
“I’ve put a lot of thought into this, sorta, in that the existential dread of fucking this up again and not having the life I want keeps creeping in on me late at night, whether I want to think about it or not. Looking over all my past mistakes, dwelling on them endlessly. Terrified, that by inaction I could be retreading those mistakes. Am I in love with Bobby, Alicia? No. No, I am not. Do I have a crush on him? No, not really even that. I am a little interested in him, that terrifies me and weirds me out and I like it, and, and—I’m not gonna run away from that or avoid it, this time. This is, it’s a start. I need to start somewhere with these, these kind of things, because I know exactly how easy it is to just never start at all.
“I’m not going to ask him out. I’m not going to throw myself at him. I’m just going to—to be normal and if things develop in a perfectly normal young-teens PG-13 relationship way, I will go with that. I need to start somewhere. I’m, I’m perfectly fine with starting small and, and just dating in name only, or holding hands, or not kissing ‘til I’m sixteen or, or—”
Alicia waited for Tabitha to finish her long ramble with bated breath, but the next words never came, instead just stretching out into a defeated silence. The teen stood, still clutching the handset phone against her ear, and began to pace back and forth in front of her bed, because—she didn’t know what to say to all of that.
“Sorry,” Tabitha eventually said in a small voice.
“N-no, I—I just, I don’t know what to say,” Alicia stammered out. “Like what can I say, anyways? I’ve never had a boyfriend or anything, yet. Elena had one in middle school. But, she doesn’t like talking about that whole thing.”
“Yeah,” Tabitha sighed. “It’s. I don’t know. You’re right, really. I’m going to ask him myself, that’s important.”
“He…” Alicia paused. “Bobby works at the McDonalds in Springton, I do know that. That’s right off the same main street your trailer park is—just, you know, way blocks and blocks and blocks down towards the other end of, towards the busy side of town. You could probably walk there, or bike there.”
“Okay,” Tabitha took a deep breath as if steeling her nerves. “Thank you. I keep forgetting I’m not in the park anymore too, hah. Thanks, though.”
“Yeah—no problem,” Alicia said, slapping a hand over her face. What am I DOING?
“And… sorry again for just kind… of dumping all that on you out of nowhere,” Tabitha murmured. “All my issues. I always do, and I don’t mean to, it just—”
“It’s totally cool,” Alicia assured her. “We’re friends.”
“When are you going to drop some of your issues on me, for a change?” Tabitha asked with a wry chuckle. “So that this doesn’t feel so one-sided?”
“I—” Alicia panicked for a moment. “I don’t have—well like, my issues are dumb. They’re not important. They’re—uh—they’re—”
“If they’re your issues, then they’re not dumb, because I care about you, we care about you,” Tabitha argued. “Just. Want you to always know that. Whenever you’re ready to talk about anything. I’m here, we’re here. Okay?”
“Okay,” Alicia said, turning off her desk lamp so that it didn’t feel like the 1:72 scale Tabitha in the little fighter cockpit could see her. “Yeah. I’m—I’m not ready to talk about my shit, yet.”
“Okay,” Tabitha said.
“But, when I am ready—I will,” Alicia promised. “I really will. Cool?”
“Cool,” Tabitha echoed. “I’m… gonna talk to Bobby.”
“I can pick you up McDonald’s,” Mrs. Macintire offered. “Used to grab something for Hannah just about every other week, but you’ve just been so on top of cooking up dinners! I’m sure she misses her Happy Meals, she just has to have all those little toys. What do you usually get, what do you want from McDonald’s?”
“Actually,” Tabitha swallowed, looking down at the table. “I just… want to invite a boy who works there to my birthday party. Bobby.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Macintire beamed. “I see. The one from school?”
“Yes, he was,” Tabitha didn’t look up. “My friends said I have to invite him myself, if I want him to go.”
“Hmm,” Mrs. Macintire’s smile dropped a bit. “Any reason why they’d say that?”
“They think I don’t know him well enough,” Tabitha gave a small shrug. “Also, to uh, I think they just want to tease me about the whole thing.”
“Okay, I see,” Mrs. Macintire considered for a moment. “Am I allowed to tease you about it?”
“Um,” Tabitha froze, stealing a glance up at the woman. “Is that… is not teasing me about it an option?”
“It can be, just this once,” Sandra smirked. “I take it you like this boy?”
“I’m interested in him, but I don’t think I like him yet,” Tabitha hurried to explain. “If I do like him, it’s fine if everyone teases me about it, and I can handle that. Within reason. If I wind up not liking him… I’d just want the topic not even ever brought up, so that… everything can move on past that and I can forget about it. Or, um, at least not dwell on it. Too much.”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“I think I might want to like him, and he’s cute. I just. I don’t really know him that well, yet, and um, and in this context of, of boys and things? I’m not sure I know myself all that well, yet. But, this is—I’d like to, I see it as a step towards figuring that out, and I know I’m not normal, and I’m afraid of not taking that step just because it’s scary, or whatever. Because that’s not good.”
“Say no more,” Mrs. Macintire said, holding up a hand. “We can go get McDonald’s whenever you’re ready! I’ll park outside, and you can run in and order, if you’re cool with also getting Hannah a Happy Meal.”
“I can do that,” Tabitha nodded. “Ketchup and pickle only. I remember.”
“Ketchup and pickle only,” Sandra confirmed. “Before we go, do you want to get yourself dressed up a bit?”
“I—” Tabitha’s brow furrowed. “No, I just. Just want to go like this, to look normal. Not make it a big deal.”
“Cool,” Sandra rose out of her seat and grabbed her purse from the other side of the table, slinging the strap over one shoulder. “That was a test, by the way—you passed. Not gonna tease you, nothing to tease about yet.”
“Thank you,” Tabitha said, fidgeting with her blouse as she rose up as well and tucked her chair back in. “For being cool about this. It’s so stupid, but it was so scary and stressful even bringing it up, and—I kept just wanting to lie about it, to ask if we could grab McDonald’s, but not say anything about Bobby. Which is even more stupid, because—because I don’t know if I like him, yet. I’m—I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
“Tabitha,” Mrs. Macintire took the girl by the shoulders. “You’re fine. Trust me, I get it. You’re ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Tabitha presented an uneasy smile. “I think?”
He probably won’t even be working today, Tabitha told herself. Nothing to be nervous about, anyways. Silly. Stupid.
At the same time, these jitters made her feel a certain kind of thrilling giddiness. She liked feeling them, feeling this kind of nervous meant something, it made her feel like a teen, or what she thought a teen should feel like. Butterflies dancing in her stomach was something she’d only felt once or twice last life, and they’d been mercilessly quashed by the utter impossibility of her ever talking to the random high school senior guy she’d crushed on back when she’d been going through twelfth grade.
Mrs. Macintire was cruising them along towards McDonald’s in her sporty little Acura. The woman had made a few attempts at small talk, but seemed to sense how distracted Tabitha was, and let them ride on in silence. It wasn’t an ominous silence, nor was it a silence full of anticipation and second-guessing. Tabitha instead felt—she wasn’t sure how to describe how she felt. An invitation with the details to her party was folded on a sheet of printer paper in her good hand, her cast had gotten a single spritz of vanilla air freshener to combat that unavoidable weird cast smell that began cropping up, and no appreciable acne or bumps were apparent when she checked and rechecked in the little mirror of the Acura’s flip-down sun visor.
Springton was by no means a large town, and in no time at all McDonald’s was in sight—what Tabitha thought of as a retro design, the distinctive McDonald’s double-sloped french mansard-style roofing with the distinctive exterior bracing. The iconic look had disappeared in remodels at some point throughout the haze of future years she remembered, but Tabitha wasn’t able to put a finger on exactly when. At this time of day between the after school hours and the dinner rush, clientele at the restaurant seemed sparse, with only a pair of cars idling in the drive-thru and a single one parked in front.
Okay. Okay. Not even busy, no pressure.
When they actually pulled into the McDonald’s, however, the distant and vague fog of nervousness tightened in and became a squeezing anxiety in her gut. Tabitha became conscious of how she was breathing and therefore began breathing manually rather than automatically, her eyes flitted everywhere, darting from the McDonald’s double doors to the glass windows to the Acura’s dashboard to the other cars, and that flighty sort of panic rose up for reasons she couldn’t explain.
“Here we are,” Mrs. Macintire announced. “Are you—Tabitha, look at me.”
“Yes?” Tabitha answered a little too quickly.
“Sit here with me for a bit,” Sandra said, taking off her sunglasses. “You’re okay. Deep breaths. Don’t be embarrassed. Nothing to be nervous about. Everything’s perfectly normal.”
“You can tell?!” Tabitha hunched forward in her seat as if she could duck down below the windows and out of view.
“Only because I know what to look for!” Mrs. Macintire assured her. “You’re fine. Odds are, he won’t even be in there today.”
“Yeah,” Tabitha nodded. “I was thinking that. He might not even be there today.”
“And, you’re not sure if you even like him yet,” Mrs. Macintire reminded her.
“Right!” Tabitha said. “I’m not sure I even like him yet. I just—started getting nervous out of nowhere for absolutely no reason. It’s so silly. Stupid.”
“It’s not silly, or stupid,” Mrs. Macintire promised. “Completely normal. I can go in with you, if you want.”
“No, no,” Tabitha said. “I can do this—because, it’s not even a big deal at all.”
“It’s not, it’s not a big deal at all,” Mrs. Macintire reaffirmed. “No big deal!”
“Yeah,” Tabitha let a nervous giggle slip out. “But, then this this this wave of hormones just kinda washed in, and all of the sudden it was actually a really really BIG deal, and thank you, for uh, for stopping me. For a second. Helping me collect myself. For understanding. Thank you.”
“Take as long as you need,” Mrs. Macintire said. “Hours, if you have to.”
“No,” Tabitha laughed. “Not hours. I’m fine now, I think. I’m going in. Thank you.”
“Okay good, I was kidding,” Mrs. Macintire smiled. “Hours woulda been way too much.”
“Yeah,” Tabitha agreed as she finagled her passenger’s side door open. “And it’s no big deal. It really isn’t. Cool.”
“Cool,” Mrs. Macintire chuckled, slipping her shades back on.
As Tabitha left the woman behind and hurried towards the doors she realized once again that smartphones were still almost a full decade away. Mrs. Macintire wasn’t exactly going to be sitting there browsing through a pager feed to pass the time while waiting on her. Was so COOL of her to do this for me, to bring me out this way and everything. I need to find some way to make it up to her, think of something nice I can do.
To her equal parts delight and mortification, Tabitha discovered Bobby was in fact working today, dressed now in a red polo shirt and matching cap as he loitered behind the front counter. He was cute, and something about his nice jawline and the dimples that formed when he smiled upon seeing her seemed to light up the room in that Heath Ledger sort of way. Maybe like Heath Ledger but younger, without quite as solid a build and all the muscle just yet.
If Bobby grew out his hair and worked out a bit… Tabitha struggled to determine her own surge of weird feelings. I don’t know if I’m ATTRACTED, exactly. Maybe a little. I think mostly it’s just like—I don’t know. Like he makes me want to smile?
“Madame—allow me to welcome to McDonald’s, Springton’s premiere fine dining experience,” Bobby delivered with a straight face. “Can I interest you in any of our award-winning appetizers, or hors d'oeuvres?”
“Hi, Bobby,” Tabitha said with a huge smile and an embarrassed wave. “Just two Happy Meals. Oh! For one of them, if you can make it ketchup and pickle only?”
“Of course! Anything for you, mademoiselle,” Bobby nodded, punching the items into the register. “Two happy meals with extra happy, one of those with ketchup and pickle only. That’ll come to—four forty seven.”
Unable to help herself, Tabitha’s eyes were drawn to the vintage point of sale device he was using. It was a computer, of sorts, a boxy oblong terminal that looked like a bathroom scale covered with color-coded buttons, featuring a connected small flat display for the cashier to read. She knew touch-screen devices didn’t exist yet, but it was interesting all the same to see the fast food place operating on the constraints of such primitive computing. If she had to guess, not only was the battered and clunky-looking terminal old to her—it was likely old to the McDonald’s workers as well, a relic of the late eighties or early nineties lingering on until the owner could be bothered to update their equipment here.
“With extra happy?” Tabitha let out an uneasy chuckle as she singled out a five from her small roll of remaining bills and handed it to him. “Wasn’t that a—you know, from the news, some McDonalds guy was selling heroin on the side, and that was their secret code or whatever?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no, not heroin,” Bobby gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “Nope. You see, we’ve got this secret passageway in the back, that leads down to the Yeerk pool beneath the city. Happy meal with extra happy’s just the code we use so those ordinary humans don’t catch on. You know?”
“Uhhh?” Tabitha was torn between attempting to play along and admitting that whatever reference this was, it was completely passing her by.
“Animorphs,” Bobby shrugged to himself, counting out her change. “Not a big book reader, I guess? I pegged you for the reader type.”
“Um,” Tabitha managed to squeak out. “No, but actually yes?”
“S’alright,” Bobby said. “Animorphs is an acquired taste, mayb—wait, no, you wouldn’t get that one either, huh. Damnit.”
“Bobby—can I ask you a personal question?” Tabitha quirked her lip.
“Uh-oh,” Bobby gave her a look of mock alarm that made her want to laugh. “Hah, kidding. Yeah, go for it.”
“It’s just, I’m just realizing,” Tabitha fidgeted with the invitation she held. “Your whole redneck accent you played up at school—that was just you messing with everyone, wasn’t it? Just like this.”
“Ayhup yeah-buddy!” Bobby drawled with a self-satisfied smirk. “Hell, when I lay on the charm, it gets under the skins of them cityfolk that talk all proper-like somethin’ fierce, know’m’sayin’?”
“I suppose it would?” Tabitha said. I KNOW he’s like a class clown, but I hadn’t realized how skewed some of my impressions of him already were. To me he really WAS ‘that redneck kid.’ But he’s not, really. He’s—he’s just BOBBY, I guess. This sort of loveable idiot.
“Well, ah don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Bobby shrugged, unfolding a pair of cardboard Happy Meal boxes into ready position. “Just havin’ fun.”
“Right,” Tabitha shrugged. “It’s cool.”
“To drink for the meals?” Bobby asked. “Coke products.”
“Oh, um. One coke, and one water?”
“Cool. Alright now, serious-talk, big decision time,” Bobby said, bending down to rifle through a carry bag below the counter. “Toys are A Bug’s Life, annnnd nah, we’re already out of Hemlock the caterpillar dude. So! We’ve got—Flik, Princess Atta, Dot, Ladybug dude, Grasshopper dude the evil guy, big rhino beetle dude, and the spider chick.”
“I… haven’t seen A Bug’s Life,” Tabitha admitted with a small smile. “What would you recommend?”
“As an industry expert, I know a lot about these kind of toys,” Bobby boasted with a serious expression. “This series is all wind-ups and pull-backs, so you can expect play value time will just barely hold their interest through the time it takes ‘em to eat the entire Happy Meal. Boys? Girls? How old are they?”
“Well, I’m eating one of the meals, but both of the toys’ll go to Hannah, and she’s… seven?” Tabitha answered.
“Hannah, seven,” Bobby paused, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “Hannah. Dark hair, comes in with Matthew sometimes?”
“That’s—yeah, that’s her,” Tabitha flushed. “You remember her?”
“It’s a really small town,” Bobby said. “I always talk to the kids ‘bout what toy they want, ‘cause I’m not an a-hole like Jeremy who’s just gonna throw them in whatever. Hannah comes in pretty regular. Like I said; industry. Expert.”
“Clearly,” Tabitha laughed.
“In which case—I’m gonna ask, does she have any of these ones, yet?” Bobby asked, sorting out a small arrangement of individually wrapped plastic toy junk on the counter between them. “‘Cause if it’s the Hannah I’m thinkin’ of, she wants to collect the set, and not have any wasted on doubles.”
“I don’t think so,” Tabitha shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen anywhere. I think it’s been a little while since she’s had McDonald’s.”
“Alright then, I’m giving you Flik, and Princess Atta,” Bobby decided, swiping all but two of the toys off the counter and back into the carry bag. “Bad guy aside, these are the big main characters, and also the only two in this series that are pull-backs, instead of wind-ups. So, you two can find a flat surface somewhere and race ‘em. Not the best Happy Meal toys I’ve seen, but definitely the best play value you’re gonna get out of this bunch we got now.”
“Thank you,” Tabitha laughed. “Very… thoughtful of you. Professional.”
“No problem,” Bobby nodded, visibly pleased with himself. “You haven’t seen A Bug’s Life, though?”
“I don’t get out to the movies much,” Tabitha shook her head again.
“Do you want to, sometime?” Bobby asked. “Theater right over in Sandboro, if you want we cou—”
“Bobby,” Tabitha interrupted, quirking her head and just releasing that smile she’d been completely failing to suppress. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“I am completely free,” Bobby promised, his eyebrows raising up in apparent surprise.
Two small cups were grabbed, jabbed into the handle for the ice dispenser for their requisite ice, and then filled. Tabitha watched Bobby’s forearms as he capped each beverage with a lid and then fit them into a paperboard drink carrier. His arms looked nice, but she couldn’t put her finger on why—they didn’t seem overly muscular. They stood out to her for some impossible-to-define reason, as if they were simply nice to look at. So strange.
“This weekend?” Bobby asked. “I’m—I mean yeah sure technically I’m scheduled to be here, but no matter what, I can call in favors to cover my shifts. I will be completely, one hundred percent free. What’re you thinking? Movies? Dinner? Lunch?”
“I’m having my birthday party this weekend,” Tabitha said, finally offering him the folded invitation. “You should come.”
“Birthday? Yeah, awesome,” Bobby took the paper from her. “Cool, I’ll be there. You’re fourteen, right? Thirteen. Fifteen? Shit, and you told me just last time I saw you. What do you want for your birthday?”
“I’m turning fourteen,” Tabitha said, comforted by his apparent nervousness. “No one has to get me anything, or bring anything I just want everyone to come and, y’know. Have a great time.”
“Cool. My uh, my name’s on this invitation,” Bobby exclaimed in surprise. “Wow, damn. You came here to invite me? Like not as a random ‘hey oh by the way I’m havin’ a party?’”
“Yep,” Tabitha admitted, feeling her cheeks burn. “And uh, and also here to pick up two Happy Meals?”
“Right! Yeah, sorry,” Bobby spun, realizing the wrapped cheeseburgers were already waiting in the little rows of the display warmer behind him. “One sec. Cool. It’s just, no one’s ever invited me to your birthday party before, you know? First time.”
“I, uh—yeah,” Tabitha laughed. “Yep.”
“Well, awesome, I’ll be there for sure,” Bobby promised. “Count me in. I’ll think of something real cool for a present. You like movies? You have a VHS player?”
“Um,” Tabitha thought for a moment. “Yeah, the family I’m staying with definitely does.”
“Family you’re staying with?” Bobby asked, passing her the order bit by bit. “Sounds like a whole big story.”
The two Happy Meal boxes and a drink carrier weren’t as easy to handle as she’d hoped with the limited range of finger motion her cast afforded her, so Tabitha awkwardly hugged it all against herself so that she’d have a hand free for the door.
“It uhh,” Tabitha winced. “Yeah, kinda. I’m uhh—Hannah’s mom’s parked and waiting outside and I’m already super embarrassed so—I’m gonna go. Come to the party, if you can? This weekend.”
“You’re embarrassed, come on—I work at a McDonald’s,” Bobby teased with a grin.
“Hey!” An indignant shout from behind the warmer shelf called out, and a cook in the back leaned over the fry station to try and see them. “Yo, I heard that.”
“Yeah, so don’t be embarrassed!” Bobby called after Tabitha as she fled towards the door. “Definitely gonna be there at the party.”
“Party?! What party?” The cook yelled, and then Tabitha was rushing through the double doors to escape with a giggle.
Wow. Bobby. He makes me feel… Tabitha felt like jumping, or dancing, or doing a little pirouette. Something. I dunno.
“I don’t like him though,” Tabitha affirmed to herself with a broad smile. “Or, I only like him a little.”
She hopped down the curb and next to the waiting Acura in a daze, realizing she didn’t have quite the leverage to lean down and reach the door handle while juggling two Happy Meals. Mrs. Macintire was aware of her plight, and leaned all the way over to unlatch her door and give it a nudge open, and then Tabitha was able to get herself seated and the food cartons situated in her lap without making eye contact with the woman.
“Well, I guess it went well?” Sandra asked in a rather smug tone. “Tabitha… what the hell, please tell me you didn’t get my little monster two Happy Meals?”
“One is for me!” Tabitha said. “Mostly. You or her can have my fries. Both toys are for the little monster.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, was he there?” Mrs. Macintire pressed. “Can I tease you, now?”
“He was there!” Tabitha announced with pride. “I invited him. He said he’ll probably be there. I like him a little. You can tease me.”
“Well that’s wonderful!” Sandra said, starting the vehicle again. “And, he’s cute? In your grade?”
“He’s cute,” Tabitha reported. “A freshman. He seems nice. I don’t know much about him.”
“That’s all a good start though, right?” Sandra backed them out of the parking space.
“Maybe?” Tabitha mused. “I like him a little, but mostly I just don’t even know how to feel.”
As they rode on home, Tabitha felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Either she’d been imagining this first little step would be much more difficult than it was, or Mrs. Macintire was right and it really wasn’t that big of a deal. It was and it wasn’t. Part of her had felt gut-clenching fear and honest dread at attempting to talk to Bobby, and then a part of her was surprised by how easy it wound up being.
Bobby just makes me feel… NORMAL, Tabitha hugged the two Happy Meal boxes against herself, relishing their warmth after the momentary stint outside. Like a normal teenage girl. I think that’s it.
I totally don’t LIKE him; he just makes me feel normal, and obviously I’m incredibly drawn to that feeling. When I’m around him I feel welcome, feel like I belong here in this body, in this TIME PERIOD. Bobby makes me feel—he makes me feel like the future isn’t so oppressively close or set in stone, like I DON’T know what’s going to happen. Like there’s all sorts of THE PRESENT to discover yet, before I wind up seeing all that awful future all over again.