Only the sound of the clock upstairs could be heard as I opened the door. Normally, there were the sounds of Syla and Antun going about whatever they were doing, be it preparing dinner or scrolling Instagram. But no such sounds tonight. The silence sat heavy as a cloak, feeling as if it was hiding something. I didn’t have any sense of impending danger, but it was eerie. The eeriness was cut by the scent of warm chocolate filling the air; I casually wondered what Syla might’ve baked earlier.
“Do you think we blew a fuse?” I asked, confused because the porch light was on, so that couldn’t be it, right?
Behind me in the dark, Michael answered, “Maybe everyone actually went to bed at a normal hour for once.” Heading to the stairs, I strained my ears for any sound, but there was none. I tread quietly up the stairs, Michael behind me, then stepped into the black living room. I didn’t know if it was a result of being a vampire or what, but complete darkness was no longer so complete. I could vaguely make out the shapes of the furniture, and I took a step toward the couch.
The sound of a flicker came from the kitchen, and I saw candlelight dancing from inside. Then I heard them.
“Happy birthday to you…” Syla and Antun stepped out of the kitchen, the former holding a cake with lit candles on top as they sang the typical birthday anthem. Michael joined in with them from behind me, his arms sidling up next to me and pulling me into a back hug. “… Happy birthday, dear Drew. Happy birthday to you.” Michael kissed the top of my head, a quick and sweet benediction.
My brain had tried to label it a trap at first – then my name in their voices rewired the meaning of surprise. I stared at Syla in a flour-dusted apron and Antun smiling wide enough to show his molars. I twisted to Michael, his gaze holding a mix of apprehension and hope.
Syla said with a grin, “Well? Hurry and make a wish before the wax melts.”
I was completely in shock. A surprise birthday party? I hadn’t told anybody that it was my birthday. That it was even coming up. I’d never had friends to celebrate my birthday with before. It had always been just me and my parents, and in recent years, even that had slowed down. I hadn’t seen the point in celebrating; it was just another trip around the sun. But…
“Did you really think you could hide your birthday from us? Do you not know me?” Antun asked with a wicked smile, proud of his mischief. He flicked on a single Edison bulb, the small golden light filling the space.
I gave a surprised sound between a laugh and a gasp. They figured out my birthday?
“Syla baked, obviously” Antun said, gesturing to the cake.
“Do not ask me how many attempts were made with the frosting,” she said with a wink. Her nervous excitement made her nearly bounce on her toes.
“Guys…” I looked around at them, at the cake. Completely speechless.
“Hurry and make a wish or I’ll need to redo the frosting again!” Syla urged with a giggle.
Still trying to process what was happening, I blinked before my body could follow directions. Leaning over a little automatically, I blew out the candles, the wax cooling just before it reached the frosting. Syla took the cake back to the kitchen to cut it, Antun following to help carry plates.
Michael walked over to the couch, stooping behind it to pick up something – a present. He brought it back over to me. “And this is from me. Happy birthday, Drew.” He handed it to me with a kiss on the cheek. I felt a sense of relief from him, as if he was glad that the surprise they’d all been planning worked out.
I held the wrapped box in my hands, still reeling from everything. The paper crinkled under my hands, and I smiled as I wondered whose wrapping skills I had to thank for the wonky folds and creases. Half-numb, I tore the paper away, leaving behind a cardboard box kept closed by a single piece of scotch tape. Recognizing the scent of leather underneath the cardboard, I became curious. I popped the tape and when my eyes saw what was inside, they immediately flew back up to Michael. “What? How…?”
It was the leather bag that I had eyed at the Ren Faire. It had several five-petaled flowers on it, reminding me of my favorite flower – forget-me-nots. Dyed a dyed a warm golden-brown, it had pockets on the inside and was even be big enough to hold a tablet or book. My fingers glossed over the ridges creating the flowers, and my chest warmed.
Back at the Faire, I’d admired the bag, running my fingers over the stitching and flowers, pretending to be evaluating craftsmanship while hiding how badly I wanted it. I guess I hadn’t hid it well. I felt seen, and that brought a mix of discomfort and gratitude at being seen so clearly.
Michael smiled. “When you were distracted by that dress at the clothiers. You were really focused on it, didn’t even see me leave to sneak back and purchase it.”
It dawned on me. “That’s why you wouldn’t let me see inside your bag!”
He shrugged, a smile playing his face. “Didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“Wait… did you… how long have you guys been planning this?” I asked. My thumb rubbed along the flowers on the bag even as I stared at him.
“Oh, since Antun found it out months ago.”
Months… They’ve been planning this surprise for me for months? My words were gone. Not even my parents had ever tried to have a surprise party for me. My heart was so full it ached. My eyes shimmered with disbelief and gratitude.
Syla and Antun returned from the kitchen, plates of chocolate cake in hand. She noticed the watering in my eyes and asked, “Have you never had a birthday party before?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s always just been my parents. Never… this.” There was a beat of silence, the only sound the clock on the wall behind me and the hum of the house’s HVAC. I looked at each of them, a smile of surprised contentment spread across my face.
Turning to Michael, I saw a warm smile that matched my heart. I set the bag down and pulled him in for a kiss. Soft and tentative, it was more gratitude than passion.
Antun let out an exaggerated wolf-howl, earning him a shoulder shove from Syla and laughs from all. It was pure, effortless. In that moment, everything felt like it would turn out alright.
All thoughts of the Ten were far from my mind and I began to settle into a relaxing evening. I hugged Antun and Syla, the former smelling of coffee and cedar, the later of sugar and cocoa powder.
We ate the delicious cake that Syla had made, the chocolate perfectly moist and the frosting a perfect compliment. “Syla, you really outdid yourself with this cake,” I praised. “I think this might be the best cake I’ve ever had!”
“Thank you,” she said. “The cake was the easy part. The frosting was what kept giving me fits. It’s so hard to find just the right balance so that neither the cake nor the frosting overpower the other.”
The frosting was almost like a lightweight mousse, unlike any frosting I’d tasted before. Frosting was usually so thick, but this stuff was almost fluffy, like a chocolate whipped cream. The sound of forks scraping plates and moans of appreciation soon gave way to satisfied sighs.
Out of nowhere, I was booped on the nose by someone’s frosted finger, leaving the icing on my face. I turned to Michael who was pointedly looking away, until he couldn’t help but look at me from his periphery and smiled.
“What was that for?” I asked slightly indignant but mostly amused.
“I let the impulsive thought win that time,” Michael said by way of explanation. As if that would get him out of it.
I took a rather hefty forkful of frosting onto my fingers, threatening to plaster his face with it. By some miracle, the couch didn’t get a crumb on it, even with our near-wrestling to paint each other’s faces with frosting. I sat up, having gotten a nice smear of icing onto Michael’s face.
“Only because it’s your birthday am I not spreading this right back onto your face,” Michael chuckled, swiping a finger through the frosting on his cheek and licking it.
“Now that you have such a nice new bag, I suppose that old one I gave you won’t be used as much,” Antun teased.
“Are you kidding? Now I have choices, if I want to be more dressy or not. Plus, your bag is big enough for my laptop, this one isn’t,” I said.
Syla turned to him. “You know, I meant to ask you about your time as a scribe after you gave that bag to Drew. You must have some stories about that time.”
Antun stretched. “Well, for the most part it was a bunch of writing. It was what was happening around me at the time that was interesting…”
He continued to talk, telling stories about scandals and political deception that he’d been recording at that time. He told of his travels, of leaving Kosovo as he chronicled the stories he heard and worked for high-ranking people. He spoke of history the way others remember childhood trips – half fondness, half ache.
We listened with rapt attention, his tales varied and plentiful. He’d worked with merchants and princes of varying moral character, from someone practically a saint to mob boss 1.0. He was mostly a courier but did quite a lot of work as a scribe as well, the old bag used to carry parchment and ink and little else.
I wasn’t used to this – sharing something as simple as dessert. It felt like stepping into a memory I’d never had. Rain continued tapping the windows, a gentle staccato as lamplight pooled over our faces. For the first time in ages, I felt… whole. No weight of the life thrust upon me, or of the vampires who still lurked in the shadows. Just peace. Everyone’s laughter filled me, warmed me, and I wanted to preserve this moment of fragile perfection.
I leaned into Michael’s side as we sat on the couch. Light flickered over his face as he smiled down at me. My joy caught on something quieter – an echo beneath the comfort. I tried to ignore it, but its questions still rose up unbidden: was it love I felt? Or just an echo of gratitude from being saved?
No, brain. You don’t need to think about that right now. No, now was the time for joy and peace. I didn’t want to answer those questions. I didn’t need to know the answer just then. For tonight, this was enough.
