Reagan smiles from where she sits, closing her eyes and taking in the moment.
Her house is perfectly clean, she made sure of that. She spent hours hunched over every inch of floor and table, painstakingly removing all the stains and traces of filth that have collected slowly but surely over the past few months. The house smells like vanilla and strawberry. She spent hours perfecting the recipe. Corey sings, off-pitch in his own charming way, and tells her to blow out the candles that Reagan bought.
She smiles. She blows out the candles and watches as the cheap wax melts into the thin, well piped layer of frosting on top of the cake.
Corey claps for her, and Reagan feels her heart swell. He looks so beautiful to her. He’s dressed in casual clothes, his hair still wet from sweat since he took a run before coming over and is yet to take a shower, and sure, he’s exerted more effort on other days but he’s busy right now, and he looks so beautiful.
“Happy birthday,” he says.
Reagan is going to thank him when he ruffles her hair. She tries her best not to cringe. She spent well over an hour curling and layering so her light, fluffy hair landed perfectly on her scalp. She shoots him an awkward smile. Then, without warning, her head is being slammed into something cold.
The frosting that she spent hours on covers her face when she slowly raises her head from the cake. She hears Corey laugh. She tries to think about how sweet it sounds, about how much she loves the genuine joy coming from him. But it’s difficult, with the way dread is crawling up her throat. Her eyeliner, which she had done and redone to look perfect, starts to run down her cheeks.
“Ray?” She hears, and she wipes at her face, frosting mixing with the saline of her tears and the smudged bits of makeup. “Don’t cry,” he says. She nods. He’s right. She shouldn’t be crying.
“I-I’m sorry,” she tries. “You’re right. I’m just stressed..”
He pats her shoulder empathetically. Because of course he is. He didn’t know it would upset her. “I get it. I’m here for you..” he trails off, “but, you know, I have to go in like ten minutes. I promised Kaley that I’d help her with something for her work.”
He’s so considerate. She doesn’t deserve someone like that, someone that spends all their time worrying about others and trying to help them. “I have a gift for you,” Corey says, smiling.
“You do?” she says in between sniffles. She was worried, the other day, talked to one of her friends about how he probably wouldn’t get her anything. He was struggling, that’s all, and she wouldn’t have felt offended. She feels guilty for ever doubting him.
“Yeah. We should wait until you stop crying first, though.”
She feels her cheeks warm. Of course she’s ruining the moment by being too emotional, like she always does. She smiles, wipes the tears from her eyes and tries her best to ignore the fact that they feel puffy and uncomfortable.
He goes to his car and returns with a bouquet of roses. They’re dark red, and they still have the tag on them, and they were on clearance after Valentines ended and have since started to rot, but they’re beautiful.
Reagan smiles at them and takes them.
“Thank you. I love you.”
He beams at her, something proud. And then he pats her on the back and leaves.
As soon as he does, she throws the cake away. What’s the point of having it, if its half destroyed and she’s got no one to share it with?
While she’s at it, she looks at the flowers. She picks them up, plucks one out to keep in a cup of water, and throws the rest away. What a shame that he forgot that she’s allergic. It’s not his fault. He’s busy. She knows that. She supports him, because she loves him and she’s fine without being a priority. She can tell, he loves her.
And, she thinks, left to clean up the decorations she set up for herself, he’s doing his best.