Birthday Money

I'm holding a bottle of water against my jaw, when I smile I can feel my lip is split.

"Because he earned it, those guys work hard."

"Okay, but why did you fight him? It was all done, and you knew he would kick your ass. Did you think you could beat him?"

"No, but we were both fighting the same guy."

Troy shakes his head and takes his seat. The little bus lurches forward and begins its short journey to the airport.

Cassy is sweet to me. She tries her best to clean me up but my face is a mess of cuts and bruises. Somebody hands me a couple of Tylenol and reminds me that Mexican Tylenol has codeine in it. I'm thankful and whether it's the pills or my own body just flat out shutting down, I start to feel a little less of the pain.

---

It's my birthday again. I'm turning 51 and I couldn't be happier.

Cassy and I let it play out over the next couple of weeks, but the sparkle was gone. I could have dragged it out over the next 30 years, settled into a routine that was least painful and finished out my run, but that's not me anymore. Instead we set each other free.

She still comes around from time to time. There was a couple of months there where she got serious about someone and then one night she was on my front porch crying. She stayed for two weeks that time, crying and fucking me. Lately our contact has been more distant and I hope she's living her best life.

For my part, I bought one of the little railroad houses in her part of the town. I stepped down from my position and took a job in marketing, it doesn't pay as much but I'm happier, working on new projects all the time. It's engaging.

I've dated a couple of women in the last few months but haven't been able to find anyone that sparks me like Cassy did. I miss her sometimes, I still love her, but I know we were doomed from the start. I try to be happy about the time we had. I'll never be able to thank her enough for opening the door and pointing out that I was living in a cage.

51 years old and I'm sitting at a new cafe shaking my head at the card my mother has sent me. She's a sweetheart, and I try to see myself the way she does, and accept her gift in that same spirit. It doesn't feel like a burden anymore.

I finish my food and the waitress comes by dropping the check on my table. I watch her walk away. Her hips are slender and she's got incredibly long legs. The uniforms here are a light turquoise color, but it's still the same ill fitting polyester and cheap zippers. Her name tag says "Harmony" she's pretty with honey colored hair.

"What the hell."

I toss my birthday money down on the table.