Dealing with the Noise

Lena’s couch had a blanket with little yellow stars on it. I lay there with my shoes off and my phone on my chest, staring at the ceiling while the house made its quiet night sounds.

The party kept replaying in my head like a bad clip.

Blue frosting. My brother’s name in white letters. The candles leaning a little in the heat. Me standing there with a gift wrapped in silver paper, holding it like it could make me part of the room if I kept my hands steady enough.

Lena was in the kitchen for a minute, then came back with two mugs of tea. She set one on the table and sat on the floor beside the couch instead of taking the chair.

“You don’t have to talk yet,” she said.

“I know.”

My voice came out rough. I cleared my throat and tried again.

“They did the whole thing like I wasn’t there.”

Lena nodded once, like she had been waiting for that exact sentence.

“I saw the photos from last year,” she said. “I never liked them.”

That pulled a short laugh out of me, but it died before it finished.

“I said it was my birthday too.”

“And?”

My fingers curled around the blanket edge.

“My mom didn’t even look at me. She just said I was older, like that made it fine. My dad asked why I had to ruin it.” I swallowed. “Then I threw the present on the table.”

Lena tipped her head back against the couch. “Good.”

I turned to look at her.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Good.” She glanced over at me. “If they’re going to erase you, they can at least deal with the noise.”

That should have made me feel better. It did, in a small hard way. Like someone had put a hand under my elbow so I wouldn’t tip over.

I stared at the tea. Steam moved over the rim and disappeared.

“Do you think I went too far?”

“No.” Her answer came fast. “I think they went too far first.”

The house stayed still around us. No TV. No footsteps. Just the refrigerator humming in the kitchen and the clock over the stove ticking off seconds I didn’t want.