I turn around as Mara starts singing “Happy Birthday.” Papa chimes in to say cha-cha-cha on the right beats. With everything going on, I didn’t even take note of the date, or the fact that we’re turning over onto my birthday. Is it midnight?

Firelight dances over Mara’s face as she finishes singing. Her mouth is set in a tiny little smile.

I don’t feel happy like I want to. Sadness sloshes around in me. It’s so hard not to think about the fact that this woman’s been pretending I never happened for my last million birthdays.

I heave in a breath and knock out the candles in one swift blow. Siri claps from the corner. She’s letting Mara have the spotlight. This must have been Mom’s idea; I doubt Siri even knows my birthday.

I pull on a gloomy smile. “Thanks for the cake and acknowledgment of my birth.”

Mara sighs as Papa walks over to the kitchen drawers and shuffles around for plates and silverware.

“I’m here for a truce,” Mara says.

I pull out a chair and sit down. “This half of the family is really into using food as a weapon.”

Siri snorts. Papa hands Mara some small plates and a knife. She slices a piece for me. I take a forkful and stuff it in my mouth. “I’m listening,” I say around my cake.

Mara cuts three more pieces. Once she’s distributed them, she pokes at her own. “I usually celebrate your birthday alone with one of those brie macaroni sandwiches,“she says quietly. “I take it up to my room and eat it by myself. I try to imagine what you might be doing. What you might look like. Be like.”

I exhale a disgruntled huff.

“Vegas was a lot in the moment. I’m very disappointed in myself,” she whispers. “It’s hard to confront your missteps and weaknesses by having them laid out in front of you by your kids.”

I swallow another bite of cake and look up at her. “Okay,” I say flatly.

Mara looks down, directing her words at my plate. “I’m not saying I should be excused for anything. I just, I’d like to get to know you, spend time with you this week. Whenever you want to. Tell me when and I’ll take off work. I promise I’m not completely terrible. I’m … stubborn and impulsive sometimes when I’m trying to get things done, and I mess up. And I like to be right, and it’s hard for me to come to terms with how extensively fallible I am.”

Looks like I got some of my most annoying traits from my mother.

I stare at her finger that’s drawing circles on the table. “I’m done terrorizing you, Mara. You don’t have to worry about that.”