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It was Natalia’s birthday. Not that it mattered to her, or anything. There would be no well wishes, or gifts, or cards. If she was vulnerable around anyone enough for them to celebrate her, or even to know her birthday, it was too much. That’s just the way it was with her job. It didn’t matter.
It may have mattered before, some time in the past that was fuzzy and rose-colored. When Natalia turned 9, her father had baked her the nicest cake. They could barely afford it, but it was a celebration just for her, and she savored the moment. She woke up with the memory on the tip of her tongue. What had the flavor of the cake been? It was so distant. Everything was. The thought twisted into anger, regret, as all things seemed to these days.
She spent an extra few seconds catching her reflection in the mirror. When had she stopped being that naive, happy girl? The easy answer was when her father died, but she feared it happened far before then.
She went on with her day as usual, calling people and going over the plan. Everything was going so well, and she thought it would evoke emotion in her, some kind of satisfaction, but it never did. It rarely happened. There was nothing to worry over, nothing to solve or fix or kill. Her mind was empty as the day went on, trying not to think too much. But when there wasn’t anything to think she always thought about… Elena.
God… why did it have to be her?
Her birthday in Rio de Janeiro may have been fabricated, at least from her side, but it was nice. It was comfortable. She hated Elena more than anyone else in the entire world. She had taken away her future and left something in return that Natalia couldn’t shake. Some ache, some desire to get closer and closer to her until they tore each other apart. Without it, she wasn’t sure where she would go. Would it finally cease once Elena was dead? Or instead would she burn out, living aimlessly until someone else came by that made her feel the same way?
The sun had already set, and of course she had wasted her whole day thinking in circles about Elena. It will be different next year. Maybe there will be a card, or even a gift. She could do better. She had to do better.