Birthday Suit

Note: Written for last year’s Naked Pacey challenge at PoTL. Future fic.

 

I heard the annoying buzz of the alarm clock, but I refused to open my eyes. It was so warm in here. Warm and safe. Why should I leave this comfortable and warm place to face the day I’ve been dreading for the last 364 days? Especially when I have such a nice company here? My hands touch the spot beside me in my bed. Cold, like it had been left for hours. Great, just great. Now I’m alone in this huge bed and I have no clue where my girlfriend could be. I face the red flashing lights again, mocking me. Clocks don’t understand, hell, calendars don’t understand that this particular day has a curse linked to it. I just feel it, I know it. I try to ignore it, but no, the world conspires to make sure I won’t forget this doomed day. Now you must be asking yourself, what day? My birthday.

 

Don’t laugh, because it’s not funny. I can prove it. I once made a wish for no further acknowledgement of today's hollow, symbolic meaning as a milestone in the life of Pacey Witter. But it was on a birthday, so it never really worked. You think I’m kidding, right? What's the harm in celebrating a birthday? Everybody else does it. What you don't know is that every birthday I've had since I was 10 years old has been a complete disaster. I'm talking gut-wrenching, soul-searching, question-the-universe agony. And I’m not being a drama queen over this.

 

For example, my 12th birthday party, my first boy-girl party, I ate so much pizza and ice cream, I puked on Justine Sherman, a girl who I had a massive crush on. She then proceeded to call me Pacey Pukey for the rest of the year, a quaint little nickname that my family picked up on and now resurfaces itself every year around this time to hearty laughs all the way around. Of course, it's probably not as bad as 16, the year that I threw myself a party and nobody decided to show up. That was good. Oh, yeah. I also failed my driver's test the same day. But neither of those will ever, ever beat 14, the day I was mauled by a dog. Oh, I was almost forgetting 18, when I received the rejection letter of my only college application. Or 21 when I got fired and lost all my money. Since then I try to avoid the date like the plague, but a naïve smart ass always does me the big favor of remembering it.

 

Well, one thing is sure: I can’t stay in bed all day. Not alone at least. Where could Joey be? I groan, I know, she’s one of those naïve people I talked about. I’m sure she’s planned something. I push the covers aside, stepping carefully out of the bed. A shower. I’m going to take a shower. What harm can a shower do? Because if we were talking about a bathtub, with my luck, I’m sure a shark would come out of nowhere wishing me a happy birthday. I take my boxers off, leaving them on the floor, knowing that will drive Joey crazy, my favorite kind of Joey, and head to the bathroom.

 

The bathroom has signs that someone already showered today. No message though, no I love you Pacey, no be back soon, not even a line. I turn the water on, thankful that there’s hot water left, maybe the day won’t be that bad.

 

I wonder what is reserved for me today. I start singing, but it’s not a good idea to do one of my Elvis performances while in here. I can slip, fall and break something. Or even worse, I might get a concussion. I think about going to the restaurant after breakfast, just to check out things, but immediately push away the idea. If I try to cook, I’ll burn the place to ashes. Walk the dog? No. Might get hit by a car. Bed, bed is safe. If only I could find Jo…

 

“Pacey!” Her sweet voice brings me back from my inner ranting. I swallow when I see her standing at the doorway, chocolate cake in hand; wearing nothing but the lingerie I gave her last Christmas.

 

“I know you hate birthdays, but I thought that a private celebration would maybe put in that thick boned head of yours that there’s no curse on your birthday.” Her eyes never leaving me while I left the shower. I step closer, and she traces the words happy birthday on the frosting, licking it of her finger. “Nice suit you’re wearing today, Pace.” She smiles, noticing the obvious effect her little action had.

 

“I think you should wear one of these too” I reply, taking her and my birthday cake to my bedroom. I may have a cursed birthday. Awful things can happen today. But right now? Right now, I love birthdays.

 

PS (some hours later): No, the bed didn’t break and the candles didn’t set the house on fire.