Freshly 28, Louisa sits at the table waiting for her family to prepare her cake in the kitchen. Her aunt Evelyn sits with her.
“You still an Associate at Leuman’s?” Evelyn asks.
“Yes,” Louisa responds.
“You still spend your entire paycheck on that rat trap of an apartment in Murray Hill?”
“Yes.”
“You still seeing Steve?”
“No.”
“You have a 401k set up?”
“No, but I signed up for a subscription to Birchbox, so I have a long-term makeup strategy.”
“What did you do for your birthday last year?”
“Steve took me to a romantic dinner and told me he loved me.”
“And this year?”
“I found this great recipe on Pinterest and my cat Mr. Fluffles is a stray so he doesn’t have an official birthday, so I made this awesome cake. It’s like a professional chef making tuna tartare where you have this white paper cone and then you fill it with chopped up tuna, crab meat, and Fancy Feast. Then I put a little candle on top, sang happy ‘Meowthday,’ and we had a wonderful celebration together. He’s been putting on some weight so I’ve put him on the South Beach Diet; this was a perfect treat.”
“Okay… and your diet?”
“Pretty much anything you can put on crackers.”
“At least you have two years until the big 3-0…”
“Two full years,” Evelyn smiled, shaking her crossed fingers and smiling through clenched teeth.
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry, she repeated to herself.
Three hours later in her tiny rat trap of an apartment, Louisa cried.
