The following diary entry is a canon divergent one in which Veronica and J.D. celebrate his birthday.
Happy Birthday, @explosiveslurpeelover !
March 25th, 1990
Dear diary,
I know I haven't written for days now. But I have a very valid excuse...
Today was J.D.'s 18th birthday!
It still makes my chest feel warm when I think about what that means. 18. Eighteen. Like, wow. He's stepping into a whole new chapter of his life, and I'm happy to be here to walk it with him. I know, for some, birthdays are just another day with numbers changing over a calendar. But for me, for as long as I can remember, birthdays were never treated like "just another day." My parents always made sure each one felt special.
Big parties with my extended family back in Columbus, magic shows, clowns, even pool parties. Sometimes it wasn't anything big at all, just a celebration that proved they were there, that I mattered to them. They'd smile like they were proud of me for existing, like my life mattered enough to mark it. Even when it was plain and ordinary, they made it memorable. Is something I will always be grateful for.
But a few months back, J.D. casually told me that he hasn't celebrated his birthday in a very, very long time. He didn't say why. He never does. I think it was a slip of the tongue. When I try to get to that topic of conversation he changes the subject, like my words are sharp. He's learned to dodge them real good. But I can still guess why that is. I can almost feel the weight of it all in the way he avoids the details. His dad is a... peculiar man. From what little he's told me, he's the type to make birthdays sound like a burden, a waste of time. It wouldn't be wrong to assume that the last time J.D. or his sister, Sue, ever had a real birthday was when their mom was still alive.
To me, that was it. I decided then and there that I didn't want his birthday to be left behind like that; not anymore. I didn't want him to enter his adulhood thinking his birthday is something people have to endure instead of something people willingly celebrate. So I made it my mission to make this 25th of March of 1990 a special day just for him. No more letting his father's anger fester and infect his life. I know it isn't much in the grand scheme of things but, I believe even the little things can matter.
Yesterday, I spent all day buried in homework because I knew today had to be free. I needed the time to do everything properly. Thankfuly, God had mercy on my soul, because I found out about a week ago that today would be one of those Sundays my parents wouldn't be home. They were out at a barbecue that one of my dad's coworkers invited them to.
But don't worry, dear diary, you know me. I'm not the kind of person who forgets to ask permission when she needs it. I asked my mom to please let me stay home. I even was completely sincere about it. Told her I wanted to prepare a little surprise for J.D.'s birthday. That he hasn't had a celebration in years and I wanted to make it count, that I'd been thinking about it for months now, that I'd do everything I needed to do! I mentioned cleaning up, finishing all my homework in time, keep the house safe; everything. I expected her to hesitate, even if she would've agreed. But she looked at me like she already understood what I was trying to do, like she could see the heart of it underneath the mess of my words; you know how I get.
And she agreed! I don't know what I would've done if she hadn't. Probably go to the nearest park and decorate there. Would security kick me out? Doesn't matter.
So the plan became real. I spent the whole morning baking a small vanilla cake. I know, vanilla sounds so plain, but it was either baking something easy or feeding J.D. a burnt concrete block. I tried to follow my mom's instructions as best as possible, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that actual effort matters. Even if the cake wasn't perfect, the buttercream uneven, and it had a bit too many sprinkles, the effort still counts. I think it was pretty tasty. He had no problem eating his slice and agreed to take the rest with him so he could give it to Sue. So I say it couldn't have been the worse.
When the cake was finished, I moved on to prepare the living room. Balloons, some big, some small, but all in the right places, scattered around the room. I'm convinced my mom's air pump saved my lungs. A handmade sign. I made it myself because the ones at my nearest party shop all felt too... non J.D.-esque? It read: "Happy 18th Birthday J.D. !" I also added streamers, lots of them, all over the chandelier, and a few bows here and there. I end it all by grabbing the comfiest pillows and blankets to make the space extra cozy for when we'd watch the movie I rented.
Then I went get myself ready.
What? Can't a girl want to look good for her boyfriend? I wore something casual but cute. After all, the plan was to head to 7-Eleven after the movie was over, and I was not going there in my pajamas, excuse me. That was also the "lie" I used to get him here. He was supposed to pick me up to head to 7-Eleven for his birthday. Little did he know, we would go, just not right away.
Once everything was done, I kept checking my wristwatch again and again, until time started to feel like it was too slow. Most people would probably spend that waiting time relaxing, eating something, letting the moment happen. Maybe they'd put their feet up and forget the world. Not me. I kept making sure everything was in place. Making sure the sign wasn't falling. Making sure the cake was exactly where it needed to be. That all lights were off...
I tried to pretend I wasn't anxious. The truth is, I was scared. Which sounds a bit silly now. In the end I was fine, awesome!
But while I waited for him I felt some... vulnerable kind of scared. The kind where you're afraid that the person you care about might not feel what you're trying so hard to give them. The kind where you're afraid you'll be met with disappointment, even if you'd never say it out loud.
I just wanted it to be perfect. Even if it was simple. Because it was his first birthday celebration in years. And I don't want him to ever forget it. I wanted him to look at the candles, and the cake, and the balloons, and the sign, and understand that someone is choosing him on purpose. That someone sees him, and he's cared for.
Finally, after anxiously waiting for the eternity of around 10 minutes, there it was. The familiar sound of J.D.'s motorbike engine, getting closer, the way it always does. My heart jumped in excitement before my brain could catch up. I bolted to the front door, leaving it slightly open as I had planned. Then I ran into the living room.
The cake sat on the coffee table where it belonged. I had probably changed its position a hundred times by that point. Finally, there it was. The moment of truth...
Right?
No! Of course it wasn't! Of course I had to forget something. Actually, it was the most important thing. His birthday present. I left his birthday present upstairs, in my bedroom, on top of my nightstand where I had specifically put it so I wouldn't forget! But there was no time for lamenting or screwing around. I'm not sure how I did it, but one moment I was flying upstairs to grab it, and the next I was already putting it under one of the blankets. By the way, it was that copy of The Poems of Goethe I've told you all about. You know the story already so I'll spare you the details. What matters is it looked to me like he liked it. Mission accomplished!
Anyway, where was I? Right. I settled onto the pillows and blankets I had spread out earlier while trying to calm my rapid breathing. Thankfully, J.D. had just started calling my name as I heard the engine die. I held the lighter in my hand, impatient, because if I had let myself panic I might have ruined the most important part. So I took a deep breath, and waited.
I waited without answering when he called my name multiple times. I wanted him to see the open door, to step inside, to notice the darkness, and find the place where I was waiting.
The moment I heard his footsteps follow after the sound of my front door's characteristic squeak, I lit the candle and began to hum. The glow was warm and small, but it was enough. He wasn't walking into silence, into the kind of birthdays he's had all his life. Like the years of solitude were finally being replaced by the love and appreciation he deserves.
I started to sing happy birthday when his steps got closer. And when he finally came into view, my smile stretched wide, uncontrollable. It was like someone had pressed a button. I swear I really couldn't control it! I can't explain it. It's like, the moment I saw the look on his face, like he didn't know what to do with the feeling, I knew it had all been worth it.
That's all I wanted to see, dear diary. That look in his eyes. The moment his birthday stopped being something he avoided, and started being something he could finally regain.
Now, let me tell you all about the rest of the day. But this time I won't spare you any details. You've been warned!
