Eighty-two

Birthdays are awkward but Brianna’s is worse. We are here by the pool. One, I have never used the pool. Two, no one is talking. Music booms from the box speakers on the short tiled stairs leading to our table, the only source of noise in this odd silence.

Joshua, the talkative is quiet. Bren might as well be absent. She hasn’t breathed a word to anyone. Wyn talks but just enough to not get Bren mad. I adjust the cone cap on my head, everyone on the table is wearing one but Brianna’s has birthday girl written on it. That and her sash. This feels like a terrible idea. 

The flame of her birthday candle flickers, Mother cups her hand around it to protect it from dying. She slides the cake to Brianna and inserts a table knife. Brianna knows her as her grandmother. That’s right. As in Joshua’s case as the uncle. I’m the only one being wrongly addressed. I’ll probably keep it that way. 

Joshua knocks the table twice,