Page 50 of What Did I Miss?

‘Birthdays are overrated and annoying,’ Makayla says to Cece while they weave around parked cars, back in Goldbrooke, where they belong.

‘The worst part? Texts that pile in from distant relatives. Replying takes up half a day. What about the friends-of-circumstance who dredge up old photos and splash them across social media? They always look picture perfect while I blink-sneeze beside them. This year, I had the good sense to remove my birthdate from my profile. Without a notification reminder beeping at people I don’t give two hoots about, today will be just as I like it – uneventful. ’

Cece stares straight ahead, dragging Makayla along. It’s unlike her to be so quiet.

‘Beau is none the wiser, which is for the best. He’d make a big fuss. Sure, he’ll find out eventually and be disappointed, but it’s my birthday and I’ll ignore it if I want to. Except I can’t, because you’ve kidnapped me. Where are we exactly? I don’t recognise this place.’

They stop in front of a building with tinted windows in an industrial neighbourhood. Cece said they were going to a bar. It looks more like a bikie clubhouse. Whatever it is, it’s clearly popular. They struggled to get a car park.

‘One drink, okay? That’s what you promised.’ Makayla uses her stern voice to curb Cece’s enthusiasm.

Even if she wanted to, they can’t get sloshed; later on, she’s collecting Gertie. Thanks to intensive lessons with Instructor Beau, she passed Quinn’s hour-long driving test with flying colours. Who knows why her aunty wouldn’t hand over the keys then and there?

‘Whatever you say, birthday chickadee.’ Cece makes one more attempt to pin an I’m 30 badge on Makayla’s leather jacket and fails.

‘I mean it. I have something important to do.’

‘Rewatching A Nightmare on Elm Street isn’t important. You do it every year and frankly, it’s disturbing. How can you sleep after staring at that scary man’s face?’

‘Freddy Krueger is severely misunderstood. You’d know that if you gave it a chance instead of dragging me … is that Jeffrey?’

The principal approaches, unsuccessfully shrouding his head with a suit jacket.

‘Sorry. Car troubles. Pretend I’m not here.’ He disappears through the front door.

Cece inspects her rainbow metallic clogs, evading Makayla’s nostril-flaring stare.

‘Did you plan a surprise party when I explicitly said not to?’

Cece hangs her head like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

‘Think of it as a pre-organised gathering with your nearest and dearest.’

Makayla throws her arms in the air. ‘Then why the hell is Jeffrey here?’

‘Working out how to remove your name from the ALL STAFF email got me all flustered. After that, I forgot to take his off.’

‘Don’t tell me everyone from work is inside. You know I can’t stand half those people. Not even a quarter of them! Who else did you invite?’

‘No one.’

‘ Cece! ’

‘A few extras.’ Cece’s cheeks are pinker than her smock dress.

‘A few extras, my arse,’ Makayla mumbles.

Cece frowns at her phone. ‘We should go in. We’re a bit late and people are getting antsy.’

By people, she means Beau. He’s a stickler for punctuality. Also, they haven’t seen each other for a few hours. Since returning home from Bali, they’ve spent every second together. Now being apart (and wearing pants) is weird.

‘Fine.’ Makayla rounds her shoulders. ‘I’m staying for one hour. One! You hear me?’

Cece shoos Makayla through the dark entrance and whispers, ‘Okey dokey. Except, your parents flew all the way from Brissy. Three hours would be nicer.’

The news drops as the room floods with light. Everyone shouts an unrehearsed and therefore entirely out of sync, ‘SURPRISE!’

Makayla doesn’t have to fake her shock; the place is packed wall-to-wall. She doesn’t recognise the guests to the left and doesn’t care to know the ones to the right. Where are her people? The South Wing crew? They’re harder to spot than a petrol station when running on empty.

If Quinn’s here, she’s also winning a game of hide and seek. Makayla needs to find Beau and keep him as far away from her aunty as possible.

Everyone wants a piece of the guest of honour, and Makayla gets sucked into a current.

The Jessicas find her and she immediately wishes they hadn’t.

They’re four women she had the displeasure of knowing in high school.

They were a pack of bitches then, and as far as she can tell by a recent social media stalk, they still are.

They’ve outgrown their stylish bobs and chunky blonde highlights.

Now it’s all mermaid waves, honey tones and forced middle parts.

They’ve also ditched the low-rise jeans they teased Makayla about not owning. Who’s laughing now, ladies?

‘Love the bangs, Mak-Mak,’ Jessica One comments, fluffing Makayla’s fringe.

‘Bad break-up?’ Jessica Two pouts.

‘I heard you and Warren didn’t make it after all,’ Jessica Three snipes.

‘It’s a good thing you didn’t have kids.’ Jessica Four tears the tail off a prawn canapé.

‘Excuse me for a second.’ Makayla wriggles out of their clutch and pulls Cece aside.

‘Question. Four, actually. Why did you invite the mean girls from my high school? Have you seen Quinn? Who’s that guy in the corner with his hand down his pants? And who’s paying for all this?’

Servers whizz around with steaming trays of bite-sized food. The Jessicas follow the warm whiff of spring rolls and position themselves by the kitchen door. Those cows must’ve come for gossip and free grub.

‘I was sick with worry I’d leave out someone you were close to.

Just to be safe, I invited your entire friends list on social media.

Including your aunt, who said she’d definitely be here.

She has a special pressie for you. You’ll die when you see it.

Hmmm, I’m not sure who that man is. Don’t eat that bowl of chips, he put his hand in there.

Gross! What was the last thing? Right. The bill?

Don’t worry about it. Beau and I have it covered. ’

‘No, it’s way too much. I don’t want you or him paying for this,’ Makayla whines.

‘Why? I’m your best friend and he’s your boy—’

‘Don’t finish that sentence.’ Makayla muzzles Cece. She has to find Beau pronto.

Wading through the sticky crowd, head and eyes down, Makayla bumps into a man in a red and black flannel shirt. His sickly sweet scent of pickled onion is scorched into her brain from childhood.

‘It’s about time you came and said hello to your parents.’

Most dads would embrace their one and only child. Not Makayla’s father. Garry folds his arms in front of his mighty chest and looks down upon his biggest disappointment.

‘We had to book our dogs into the kennel for the weekend. Cost me a bloody fortune.’

‘Thanks for making the trip, Garry and Sharon,’ Makayla says dryly.

‘Makayla! You know we don’t like to be called that,’ her mother says, knocking back a glass of chardonnay.

Sharon pinches the skin between her over-plucked brows.

It’s only a matter of time before she has a headache.

After five minutes she’ll claim it’s a migraine, and by the end of the night, she’ll tell anyone who’ll listen it’s a tumour.

It is a surprise they’ve made the trip. The last time they spoke was Christmas, and Makayla couldn’t hear a thing because their five rottweilers were barking in the background.

‘What’s your dropkick ex-husband doing here? A little heads-up would’ve been nice.’ Garry eyes Warren, who’s had the gall to show up hand in hand with Diamond.

‘Surprise parties usually mean the guest of honour doesn’t know who’s coming,’ Makayla says with eye-roll energy, not daring to actually do it. Garry wouldn’t think twice about reprimanding her in public.

He makes a good point. Who invited Warren and, more importantly, why?

With her father within tongue-lashing distance, it’s oddly comforting having Warren around.

Even as a teenager, he was never afraid to stand up to Garry.

That rebellious streak enticed young Makayla, who lived in constant fear of being screamed at.

Her mere existence caused unrest in the Anderson household.

‘It’s a good thing he never knocked you up.’ Sharon plucks another glass of wine from a roving tray. Always numb. Much easier to deal with her husband’s explosive personality that way.

‘It was nice catching up. Let’s do this again in another ten or so years.’ Makayla zips away from the couple she considers strangers.

The crowd thickens, and friendly chatter grows. With all these bodies squeezed into one room, it’s as muggy as Bali.

An EXIT sign glows in the distance like a beacon of hope.

If she finds Beau, she’ll shove him through it and they’ll do a runner.

He won’t want to – too polite for his own good – which means she’ll have to pull the old ‘it’s my birthday’ card.

You can get away with anything on your birthday. Okay, probably not murder.

Makayla ducks to avoid Jeffrey. He’s standing on the outskirts of a tight circle of teachers. In three more steps, she’s taken into the arms of someone wearing a cosy knit.

‘Happy birthday, petal. I’m afraid I can’t stay long. It’s a little crowded in here.’ Trish’s gaze wanders towards Diamond and Warren. ‘I hope you understand.’

‘You’re still not speaking to them?’

‘After what they did to you? They’re dead to me.’

Makayla sighs. Great. One more thing Warren will blame her for.

‘I’d love to stay and chat, but I really need to … Agnes?’ Makayla almost chokes on her saliva.

This gathering is playing out like a twisted version of This Is Your Life . Makayla digs her nails into her thighs, trying to wake herself from this nightmare.

Agnes places a square box onto a table swimming with presents. A bomb? Wouldn’t put it past her. Makayla trudges over to investigate, hoping that’s where Beau is too.

Warren blocks her path. ‘Can I have a quick word?’

‘Not now!’ Makayla swipes him aside and charges across an impromptu dance floor.