I Hate Birthdays

"You really think I can?"

He frowned at me. "That doesn't sound confident."

I straigtened up and changed my tone. "I'll bounce back from it."

"That's the spirit," he grinned. "Now get back to work."

--

I took the afternoon off on Tuesday to return to the apartment. I figured it was a safe bet since both Will and Amy would be working. I was wrong. As soon as I opened the door, Amy practically pounced on me. "Evan! Thank goodness you're back!"

"I'm not back, Amy. I'm here for the rest of my things."

"No! Please no! I swear it wasn't what it looked like." She held on my arm with a death grip, not letting go.

"Let go," I demanded but she wouldn't. I wrenched her arm from me, and left again, slamming the door behind me. Thankfully, she didn't follow. How the heck was I supposed to get my stuff back? I was going to need some kind of back-up.

There was only one person I could think of that could help me. So, for the third time that week, I walked into Quirky's. Again, it was just after the lunch rush. "Is Sammi working today?" I asked the young man at the host station.

"Sammi? Yeah, but I think she's just leaving," he said, then he pointed behind me. "There she is."

I turned and saw her through the window, walking in the parking lot towards an older Ford Taurus. I bolted out the door. "Hey!" I called out.

"Hey, Evan Cheesburger," she said when she saw me. "If you came to sit in my section again, I'm afraid you just missed me. I'm off for the day."

"Actually, that's perfect. I could really use a favor."

She eyed me up and down. "I don't date customers," she said plainly.

"What? No, not that. I need help getting past my ex-girlfriend. She's blocking me from getting the last of my stuff from the apartment."

"So go find a big security dude." Sammi was a little more blunt now that she wasn't working, and I hoped I hadn't misread her friendly demeanor from a few days ago. "I have a class tonight."

"Please. It will take an hour, tops. I know you barely know me, but I really could use a friend's help right now."

Sammi's face screwed up in thought, then she finally said, "Okay. But you owe me one. And, if she hits me or scratches me, you owe me two."

"Deal."

"What do I have to do?" she asked, and I explained.

--

This time, when I entered the apartment, Sammi was right behind me. Amy started towards me, but stopped when she saw the unfamiliar girl. "Who's that?"

"This is my friend, who is here to help me," I said calmly. Sammi decided, and I agreed, that Amy didn't need to know her name. That way, Amy couldn't hunt her down later.

"How is your friend helping you, exactly?"

I handed Sammi my unlocked phone. "I'm going to get the rest of my stuff out of here, and my friend is going to stand here and watch. If you try to stop me at all, my friend will push SEND on the email that I've written. That email, if sent, would send that video of you cheating on me to your parents."

Amy froze. "You wouldn't."

"Yes I would," I answered. Amy's parents really liked me. Her mother had lately been hinting that I should propose. "But I don't have to, do I?"

Amy looked at me, and then at Sammi. "Does your friend really need to be involved? Can we at least talk about it?" she asked.

"There's nothing to talk about. I loved you, and you betrayed me, so it's over." I gestured to Sammi. "Unless you want my friend's finger to get itchy."

Amy shut up after that. She sat on the couch quietly, watching me carry the rest of my belongings away. Sammi would later tell me that when I wasn't in sight, Amy stared at Sammi. "It wasn't really an angry stare," she'd later say, "more of a confused, inquisitive look. She was trying to figure out who I was."

When I finished, all I said to Amy was "Goodbye," then Sammi and I left. Then I returned my key to the rental office, notifying them that I was no longer living there, and that Will and Amy would now pay the rent without me.

In the parking lot, Sammi handed me back my phone. "I took the liberty of getting your number," she said. "I intend to call you when it's time to pay up."

"Understood, anything you need. Thank you, I really mean it."

"You're welcome. And don't forget, you said anything I need. I'm holding you to that."

--

The following Saturday, I had lunch with Valerie. It was a bit of a shock that she'd call and want to meet me. Though she hung out with our usual friend group, I always considered her to be more of Amy's friend than mine. Valerie had graduated with us, and had been at the birthday party.

"Amy's still torn up about you," she told me as we entered the local sub shop.

"Is that why you wanted to meet?" I asked. "Are you here on her behalf?"

"No! No, I'm not, I swear. I did talk to her this week, but I told her she was crazy for screwing around behind your back. You're a catch, and she blew it."

"Thanks, Val."

She placed her order, then returned to her conversation. "It's hard to be friends with someone who'd do that. You remember when I caught Mario cheating on me, right?"

I nodded. It had been a big deal. Her ex-boyfriend Mario was spotted at a bar with some other girl. A friend of Valerie's had texted her, and Valerie showed up five minutes later to kick him in the balls.

I told her, "I'm glad you sympathize with me."

"Of course I do," she responded. "You're the victim, just like I was. If Amy cries about it, it's her own damn fault."

"Right."

"And, for the record, I haven't spoken to Will. I don't think many people have. Last I heard, his nose is still purple. And he had to take off a couple days from work."

That news made me smirk. Will was working in public relations. His boss must have ordered him to stay home, as it would be unseemly for the face of a company to be so bruised.

"Amy also told me about some other girl at the apartment with you," Valerie said with an inquisitive look.

"She was just a friend, I was kind of using her as an insurance policy to keep Amy away from me." I told Valerie about the email I'd written and didn't send.

"That's pretty brutal."

"I didn't want to send it. It was kind of a nuclear option. Besides, she still has to tell her parents, and trust me, that will be bad enough."

My phone rang, sitting on the table next to my drink. "Who's Sammi?" Valerie asked, reading the name on the screen.

"My insurance policy," I told her, then stepped away to answer it. "Hi."

"Hi, Evan Cheeseburger," she said, calling me by what was becoming her nickname for me. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me."

"Oh, okay. What do you want me to do?"

"I can't tell you. I just need you to be at the address I'll text you, Thursday night at 7:00."

"Umm, okay. Why can't you tell me?"

"I can't tell you that either. I'll see you then?"

"Sure, I guess so."

"Good. Thanks."

--

I think if I'd known what I was walking into, I wouldn't have shown up. It was no wonder Sammi didn't tell me. It wasn't meant to be a surprise, really. She just wanted me to be unable to prepare.

The address was a building on the college campus. Sammi walked me into a classroom and sat me in one chair that was in the front of the room, then she sat in the other. A professor and about ten students sat at tables, watching us.

"This is Evan," Sammi said, addressing the class. "He's here for counseling for the tragic events of a few weeks ago. Per the rules of the class, I haven't let him prepare his answers, so he should be able to answer honestly."

Then she faced me. It was a session with a psychologist, I realized. Sammi was a fourth-year student, and this was part of her senior class requirements, to counsel someone while others watched.

She had me talk about my recent birthday in front of everyone, and the aftermath since. It was embarrassing. But in a way, it was good to air out the dirty laundry.

"Why do you hate your birthday?" Sammi then asked.

"Because bad things happen to me on my birthday every year."

"Don't bad things happen other days too?"

"I guess so. But the worst things happen on that day."

"Do people intentionally do things on that day, to spite you?" Sammi tapped a pen on her pursed lips. It made her look like a real psychologist.

"Sometimes. Like this year."

"You don't know that. That affair could have been going on for a while. You only found out about it on that day."

"I guess you're right. What about my second birthday, when my dad walked out on me?"

"You were two. Isn't it more likely he was leaving your mother, and you were just collateral damage?"

I nodded. "Hmm. Maybe. But it's still hurtful."

"I'm not saying it's not. But my point is that none of it is personal. You might be getting caught in the crosshairs. And while bad things are happening, they're not always happening on your birthday. Maybe you've got a bad history, and it clouds your future birthdays. Now, you expect bad birthdays, so they happen naturally, like a self-fulfilling prophecy."

I frowned, but she could be right. I nodded. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"That's good. Remember, the world isn't out to get you. It's just a coincidence."

"Thanks Sammi."

She turned to her professor, who nodded in approval. "Good job, Miss Sanders. And thank you, Evan."

Sammi looked back to me and beamed. Her smile was intoxicating. It might be too soon, but I think I was developing feelings for her.

She walked me out of the building, each of us headed for our own cars. "Thanks for your help. Sorry for the secrecy, I had to make it more authentic."

"No problem. I owed you," I said, then said, "I know we're square now, but can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you want to go out with me, sometime this week?"

Her smile faded. "I'm sorry, Evan. I can't. I don't date customers."

I was slightly thrown off. I had thought we were on a similar vibe. "What if I promise not to come back to Quirky's?"

"Then you won't get a delicious bacon cheeseburger, and I still won't date you." She grimaced. "Sorry. I'm just busy. Between class and work, I don't have the time."

"Okay, I get it. Maybe I'll come get a cheeseburger from you this week?"

Her smile returned. "Sure. I'll make sure you get extra bacon."

--

I started becoming a regular at Quirky's. I'd go every Wednesday around 8, after the dinner rush, when Sammi had more time to chat. I'd occasionally go on Saturday or Sunday afternoon, but I'd only get the cheeseburger on Wednesdays. Even the hostess started calling me Evan Cheeseburger when she saw me, and immediately sat me in Sammi's section.

She'd tell me about her classes, which were now wrapping up. She'd gotten an A on her assignment with me. I'd tell her a little about my IT job. She didn't get all the technical details, but she was a good listener.

But I'd taken the hint that Sammi gave me. She didn't date her customers, and she didn't have the time. So I didn't ask. I didn't want to be that guy who pestered and harassed a woman who'd said no. But I liked Sammi enough as a friend, and she appreciated the time I spent with her.

Over those weeks, I had only one call from Amy, which I sent to voicemail. She asked if we could talk. I saw no reason to respond. I also heard from my friend Valerie that Will and Amy had a fight, and Will had left the apartment. Amy, unable to afford the rent by herself, was also forced to move out, back to her parents' house.

That was good news for me. I was still on good terms with the apartment manager. I was able to get a one-bedroom place in the same complex. My mother helped me move all my stuff back.

--

One Wednesday, late April, was fairly slow for Sammi and her coworkers. Sammi slid into my booth. "Hey, only ten months until your next birthday."

"Haha. I'd better start preparing now for the apocalypse."

"You're not the only one with a bad history of holidays, you know."

"Really? What do you hate?" I asked. "Flag Day got you down?"

Sammi frowned. "I kinda hate Christmas."

That took me by surprise. "Really? Christmas?"

"I know it sounds dumb. But I've never had a good Christmas, at least none I can remember."

"Why not? What happened to you on Christmas?"

"Actually, nothing. Barely anything," she explained. "My dad was never around, and my mom had a shitty job. Then around the holidays, she'd get depressed, and hit the bottle. By the time Christmas rolled around, the money was spent on alcohol, and she had nothing left for presents for me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know it makes me sound materialistic, but I just wanted some nice toys, or new clothes. Instead I'd get stuff from goodwill. Or toys from the dollar store." She laughed suddenly at a memory. "One year I got a Chinese knock-off or Barbie. She was awful."

"It doesn't make you sound materialistic. You were a kid. Besides, it's not about the stuff at that age. It's about feeling the love, and the magic of that season," I said, hoping it sounded helpful.

She chuckled. "Now who's the therapist?" She wiped away a tear, and shook the memories away. "Anyway. We didn't have money. I got lucky and got a scholarship. But that's why I'm here a lot. And lately, I have to work here every Christmas anyways, and I still don't have money. Mom's better now, but it's still hard sometimes."

"I get that," I said. "I was on a scholarship too. I never had money, but my mother and I had enough to get by. I guess I'm better now, my job pays pretty good. And I've got my own place again."

"Nice." Sammi stood when her manager gestured to her. "I have to go. See you again next week?"

I nodded. "If not before."

--

I went to visit again that Saturday afternoon. When I walked up to the hostess stand and asked to be in Sammi's section, the manager there told me she had no section at the moment.

"She is working, right?"

*Yeah, but she's assigned to a large party in the back," the manager replied. "You her boyfriend or something?"

"No, just a good friend."

"Ah. Well she's in the back, waiting for that party to arrive. I'll put you in Olivia's section and tell Sammi you're here."

I'd met Olivia. She was flighty and forgot half my order. I rolled my eyes when she came back to ask again. If you can't remember things, why don't you write them down?

Sammi came by, but didn't sit. "Hey, sorry. I got a big party coming in soon. Guaranteed gratuity. I can't pass that up."

"No prob, I get it. Hopefully they don't abuse you too much."

My food tasted fine, but not great. It was cooked the same way, but it wasn't the same as when Sammi brought it. Olivia was flirty but not my type. She reminded me too much of...

Amy. She walked in the door with a bunch of other ladies. I bet she was in the large party, and I was right, as they were directed to the back room. This was bad. Amy didn't see me, but I was sure Amy would recognize Sammi, my 'friend' who helped me pack my things.

I got up and casually strolled towards the back. The restrooms were also that direction, so I didn't seem out of place. I wanted to flag Sammi down and warn her, but I was too late. I got there just in time to see Sammi walk in, note pad and pen ready to take orders, seeing Amy sat among a large group of all women. I guessed they were all coworkers from the same office.

Amy wasn't paying attention until Sammi asked for her drink order. Then she looked up and they locked eyes. "You!" Amy sputtered. A few other diners turned to look.

"Yes. What would you like to drink?" Sammi said, trying not to play into it. The cooler she played, the bigger of a fool Amy would look like.

"You stole my boyfriend!" Amy half-yelled. Now all eyes were turning to Sammi.

"You're mistaken," Sammi said coolly. "Drink?"

"I should rip your eyes out."

The room was turning unfavorably for Sammi, and she knew it. She put her note pad in her pocket. "I didn't steal your boyfriend. He's a friend. And by the time I met you, he had already dumped you, after you cheated on him with his best friend."

There was a murmur in the rest of the group. Apparently, Amy had not been completely honest with them about why her relationship had ended abruptly. Amy was suddenly on the defensive. "No, he didn't."

That was my cue, and I entered the room. "Yes I did. And I have proof." I held up my phone. "Don't you remember? Should I play back the video to jog your memory?"

Amy's face went staunch white seeing me there. She looked back and Sammi, who sported a smug 'told you so' look on her face. She quickly realized this was a no-win situation for her. She grabbed her purse and stomped out, leaving the restaurant.

"Ladies, I'm sorry to have disturbed your meal," I told the rest of the group, then I took my leave.

I returned to my table and finished my lunch, feeling pretty good. Sammi stopped by about ten minutes later. "You've got some great timing," she said.

"Well, I helped create the mess, I might as well help clean it up. I hope those other women weren't upset."

"No, they're not!" Sammi said with a smile. "The lead woman pulled me aside. They're like a young professional women's group. They can't stand it when one of their own makes them look bad. They're going to tell Amy not to come anymore."

"That's good."

"And, even better, she asked about my plans. When I said I was graduating soon and was going into psychology, she told me to look them up when I get a job!" She grinned.

"That's terrific, Sammi!" I gave her a quick hug, then released her. "I wouldn't want to keep you. Have a good day."

"Thanks! See you soon!"

--

Two weeks later, Sammi texted me. "I need you to be at the restaurant on Saturday night."

I texted back. "Night? Not afternoon?" I usually visited mid-afternoon for a late lunch those days, when Sammi would work a double-shift but she'd have time in between to relax with me.

"Yes, night. 9:00?"

"OK." I'd come to just trust Sammi. She didn't say why, but I didn't care. Any reason she wanted me there, I'd be there.

When I got there, I was immediately seated in her section without having to ask. It was the same booth I'd sat in on my traumatic birthday, when I'd first met the energetic blonde waitress.

Sammi waited on me, of course, but she seemed to spend a lot of time at my table. More time than usual. What's more, I didn't see her waiting on any other tables, despite there being several other customers seated. On any normal Saturday, Sammi would be bouncing between several tables, deftly helping everyone.

When I'd finished my meal, she was right there. "I need you to pay," she said.

"Right now?" I said, a little off-put. "You know I'm good for it."

"I know. I just need you to pay right now."

I pulled out my debit card and she practically ran with it to the register, then ran back. As soon as she handed me back my card, she took her apron off. "Bob!" she called out.

The manager came around the corner. "Yes?"

"I quit!" Sammi announced proudly.

"Good for you. We'll miss you," Bob said, patting her on the shoulder, then he walked back into the kitchen.

I was confused. "You quit?"

Sammi was beaming. "I graduated last week. And I got a job as a therapist apprentice right here in town. I start Monday!"

"That's great," I said, suddenly seeing what the show was all about. She was leaving her restaurant job since she didn't need it anymore.

"That's really, really wonderful."

"And you know what the best part is?" Sammi was practically bouncing.

"What?"

"You're not my customer anymore," she said.

Then she grabbed my face and kissed me. It felt like the culmination of all our 'non-dating' courtship. It was a long, wonderful kiss. Long enough that the other waitresses gave us catcalls and whistles. One of them called out, "It's about time!"

--

It was about time. She followed me back to my apartment. As soon as we were through the door, we headed to the bedroom without the need for discussing it. Her shirt was discarded on my couch on the way. My shirt was dropped on the floor near the kitchen.