Fragments

After a long evening of exploring downtown D.C. on foot, I stopped to get a cold beer at an old place called Harry’s. I stood at the bar next to a girl who introduced herself as Cheryl, and who seemed a little too loud and a tad too intoxicated. I thought it might be time for the bartender to cut her off or for her friends to take her home.

Then I began hearing fragments of their conversation, and, when I appeared interested, she turned to me. There were a few moments of the usual small talk, and then the bartender placed a fresh cocktail in front of her, courtesy of one of her companions. She was unsteady on her feet, and, as she pulled the drink toward her, a bit splashed on the bar.

Looking at me, she grinned, lifted her glass in a familiar gesture and chirped, "It’s my twenty-fifth birthday!"

Now it all made sense. Chuckling, I tapped my glass against hers and, feigning concern, said, "I hope you make it to twenty-six."

She sipped and put the glass down in front of her. I could tell, at that moment, a thought had entered her mind, one that was familiar but nonetheless unpleasant. I watched as the expression on her face changed, and a haze descended over her eyes, giving the impression that she was looking at something far away, but seeing nothing.

Without facing me, she leaned and whispered, "My mom died on my birthday."

I don't think her hard-drinking friends had any idea. I guess she just wanted to tell… someone. I was the lucky one. I wondered how long ago it had been, and thought how awful that must be. Before I could say anything, her eyes brightened again. The silence hadn’t been long enough to be awkward.

"Aren’t you going to wish me happy birthday?" Loud, drunk Cheryl had returned just as suddenly as she had departed.

"Happy birthday," I said as I smiled and nodded at her, and took a big swig from my mug.

One of her friends grabbed her and pulled her away down the bar. Someone had bought a round of shots.

Left alone, I drank a silent toast. Birthdays are sometimes bittersweet, Cheryl. Yours will always be so.

Cheers.