Happy Birthday Sis

A Memoir

It’s November, the time of the year when I have to call my sister and wish her happy birthday. I already know how it’s going to go.  Facebook will remind me that it’s her birthday so I’ll try not to be basic and call her instead of sending a text. I’ll say hello a couple times and ask if she can hear me because international calls suck. She will talk about what she’s going to do for her special day and I’ll act interested. Then I’ll wrap it up by saying “Alright Luna, I just wanted to wish you happy birthday, see you December when I come back home” and then hang up with a sigh that translates to thank God that’s over with. You’re probably thinking that I’m a cold b***h, but hear me out.

When I was around ten years old, I had three teenage siblings.  Mind you that I am my mom’s only child, and that they are kids from my father’s previous relationships, but where I am from there is no such thing as half siblings. In my world I had two older sisters and one older brother that I adore and have great relationships with. One random Saturday morning my dad told me:

“Pick an outfit for later because we are going to your sister’s birthday party.”

I was completely confused because Denise’s birthday is in January and Janice’s birthday in April. I didn’t think much of it because my dad always had his joking ways so I played along after giving my mom a puzzled look to which she replied with a dead silent gaze. Now that I think about it, it was a really weird day indeed. I mean, we did our usual Saturday things that included deep cleaning the house and having a traditional meal for lunch but my parents were so quiet, especially during lunchtime, which is when we talk our heads off about anything and everything. That day my mom served me my food and stared at her own plate the entire time we ate. She had a look on her face that now I know means I wanna drop kick someone on the face but I can’t because I’m an educated classy woman and will not lose my cool in front of my kid.

I dressed up as my father requested and we got in the car. He started driving and I was looking for scenic clues that would make me go Aha! I know who you talking about Dad  you’re so funny thinking you could fool me. After 20 minutes in the car I still didn’t know where we were going as we entered a neighborhood I had not once been in my life. I’ve never felt so clueless. We got to this apartment complex with buildings painted in peach and light green with gardens that weren’t watered enough. We went up to the fourth floor and I could already hear the loud music coming out of apartment 14B. We were indeed going to someone’s birthday party. To my surprise, instead of knocking the front door my dad simply opens it like one so familiar that he could just burst into someone’s home like that. As he opened the door this girl wearing a birthday shirt runs to my father with open arms and a big smile screaming “Daddy!” 

He didn’t even flinch. He picked her up and said “Happy Birthday baby” with a fatherly love I knew too well. My stomach dropped to the floor and my mouth went as dry as a desert. I couldn’t even move and felt like he had to drag me into the festive apartment. He greeted everybody with his charming personality. It looked like everybody knew my dad and he knew everybody and I was just there like a red M&M in the middle of the green ones. I looked around trying to assess the situation. It was a regular looking apartment that made my home look like a mansion. The couch I was sitting on smelled like cigars. I thought my Dad hated the scent of cigars. The food table had a big chocolate cake with a pink 8^th shaped candle right in the middle of it. Some of the picture frames had the birthday girl in them with the woman that was hosting the party, her mom. Thankfully, my father wasn’t in any of the pictures because I don’t think I could stomach that. I looked back to my dad as he interacted with the other guests next to the birthday girl that looked a lot like my dad’s sister. I unconsciously leaned closer to my dad as my butt seemed to be glued to the sofa and he had the audacity to tell me to not cling onto him too much because it was Luna’s birthday and I had to share him. If I was old enough I would say: “I am a child. You brought me to this place I’ve never been, to hang out with these people I’ve never seen, to look at this version of you I never knew, to wish happy birthday to a sister I’ve never met and you expect me to not cling onto the only familiar person here!?!” 

Honestly, everything else that happened in that party is a blurred memory. I was completely silent on the ride back. The most awkward ride of my life. When we got home I ran to the bathroom and threw up. When my mom went to check on me she found me with teary eyes and more confused than I was that morning. She wanted to hug me but I turned her down and went straight to my bedroom. I was so mad and had so many questions. Did my mother know about this? Since when? If so why didn’t she tell me? Why did my father decide to tell me then? Luna was eight and I was nine years old. That means that when living with my mom for four years and deciding to finally marry her my dad did so without confessing that he had another 2-year-old kid. He cheated on my mother and there was Luna- the living breathing proof looking back at us for the many years to come. 

What can a man possibly say to make a woman forgive him for leaving her in the middle of the night when their sick crying baby couldn’t sleep to only years later find out he went to screw another woman? What could he say to make her forgive him? I don’t think I would, I hope I never have too. What pained me the most was having this image of the most perfect man shattered in a million pieces. I had him on a pedestal, for me he was so wise and could do no wrong. Now knowing that my hero, who I was so proud to call Dad, had been living this double life. The realization that he could be that out of touch to introduce me to his true baby girl so casually literally ached me. 

I grew to accept the facts and treat Luna as well as I treat my other siblings but I still feel like we lack the sisterly bond I share with my other older sisters, like there is an invisible wall between us. I don’t blame her at all I never did, but I still have a little anger inside me whenever I tell this story. So forgive me if I don’t think fondly about my sister’s birthday. For me it is the damn day my father showed me his true colors. I’m kind of ashamed to feel this way and hope Luna doesn’t come across this memoir any time soon. If she does: “Happy Birthday, sis!”