July 13, 1998

Roy always had a way of ruining whatever solitary moments I had. For the month of July I was working at a summer camp in the Catskill Mountains. I could not have been happier. I was away from everything and everyone, and that was just fine with me. For an entire month I was free from sharing a room with Millie, the fact that I was now sharing a room with fifteen other girls didn’t matter. For the first time since my mother left I didn’t have to worry about spending the weekend alone fending for myself or worrying about what I was going to eat or if we were going to be evicted from our house. Did I mention Roy had a fun habit of gambling rent and food money? For an entire month I was free. Free to sleep and laugh and breathe. Sure, I spent a good deal of my time at the camp busing tables, washing dishes and getting daily steam baths from the HOBART machine. None of it mattered because I was miles away from that wretched house. I was surrounded by mountains, a lake, and my friends. I’d wash those dishes for the rest of my life if it meant spending my days having water fights in the kitchen, kissing boys in the walk in fridge, and just laying on blankets with my friends under the stars being girly and stupid. Working at that camp was the only time where the anxious flutters in my chest ceased to exist. 

The flutters came back on July thirteenth. It was my fifteenth birthday. The camp manager came down to the kitchen, I was elbow deep in cloudy dishwater when he asked me to help him with some filing back at the main office. This was not an unusual task, as a matter of fact all of the camp volunteers were constantly scrambling to work in the office because it was the only air conditioned building in the camp. I figured he was letting me work there because it was my birthday. I happily joined him in the golf cart we used to putter around the camp grounds and we made our way down the trail to the office. My heart sank to my toes when the building came into view. In front of the office sat my father’s truck. I tried to convince myself that this was someone else’s truck, that there had to be hundreds, maybe even thousands of other lime green Nissan pickup trucks with flames painted on the sides. My pathetic attempt at denial came to a screeching halt when I saw the bumper stickers. ” I AM THE NRA AND I VOTE”, ” I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO PRESS 1 FOR ENGLISH” and the piece de resistance, ” MY OTHER RIDE IS A BITCH”. My stomach turned, my face became hot and I knew I was turning every shade of red. I was mortified and furious that my father’s obscenity had infiltrated my safe haven. He, nor his truck had any business here. Before I could think of what to do next, my father and Millie stepped out of the office all smiles. Millie ran to me with balloons in her hands and hugged me.

“Surprise! Happy birthday!” she beamed, trying to hand me the balloons. I was too distracted to take them, the ribbon brushed against my fingers before drifting up and away into the sky. A helium kaleidoscope above my head. I wished I could have swirled away with them. “Denley! Your balloons!” Millie cried. I looked at her helplessly. I felt sick. 

“Sorry Mills.” And I really was. I wasn’t upset with her for being there, it wasn’t her fault and I also knew that she sincerely wanted me to enjoy my day. My father on the other hand, this was all just another one of his dog and pony shows to prove once and for all that he was a good dad. But what he was really doing was violating my space and being selfish. He never asked me if I wanted him to come see me for my birthday, he just assumed that being his daughter, how could I not want to see him? Roy stepped in between us and hugged me, my whole body went rigid. He squeezed me tighter.

“What? Ya’ can’t hug yer old man anymore?”

“Why are you here?” I snapped pushing him away.

“Hey what’s with the attitude kid? I just drove for four fucking hours to see you on your birthday.” He jabbed his finger into my shoulder.

” Yeah, well I didn’t ask you to.” I swiped at him.

“Now that’s enough outta you. Can we just go to lunch like a nice family?” I said nothing else; it would have been pointless to keep fighting with him. I figured the sooner I went with them, the sooner I would be back at the camp. I stormed over to the truck and got in. My father tried to say something else to me but I slammed the door in his face. He punched the hood of the car and swore. I watched Millie jump into the back. We drove down into town in complete silence. 

Happy fucking birthday to me.

How I Met My Mother by Naomi Mac Millan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.