Free What We Leave Behind by Rochelle B. Weinstein

have some soul-searching ahead of us this year.” But I knew it was a sign of something that I didn’t yet understand. I glanced down at my watch and took that as a sign that it was time for me to go. I kissed Adam Levy on the cheek and started to leave when I remembered. “Wait,” I said, “I forgot to give you this.”
    I handed him the gift I had wrapped in tin foil. His weakened hands couldn’t manage the paper, so I opened it for him. There were tapes, compilations of all my favorite songs. When he popped them into his boom box and heard the array of melodies I’d put together, he would then understand the part of me I wanted him to have.
    When I ventured forth into my house one hour later than expected, my mother’s face and her distinctive signs of being irate were predictable. Nor was I oblivious to Beth’s forceful gaze—partly curious, partly agitated—for having to entertain my mother and her latest date. Others were there as well, there to celebrate my grand old sweet sixteen—Cynthia, a nurse my mother worked with who had sometimes babysat for me when I was a kid, and the Millers, this nice couple that moved in next door.
    After surveying me in an accusatory manner, my mother motioned for me to go to my room and “make myself presentable,” whatever that meant. I glared at the oversized man sitting beside her.  Unable to ward off my stare, he turned his head away abruptly. If I had a paper plate, I would have written across the middle, “Zero.”
    I entered my room with a coolness and ease that had evaded me today, except for the time spent with Jonas’s family. I was barely gone from them an hour and I was still going over the afternoon in my head, wishing it didn’t have to end. Attempts at enjoying the rest of the day were failing, as I’d given in to the realization that maybe I didn’t belong here, maybe I belonged somewhere else.
    I flicked on the radio to drown out the absurdity of my thoughts. Swingout Sister was singing “Breakout” on the radio, and I sang along. I would have holed up in my room and watched Sixteen Candles for the seventeenth time, but I knew I was required to fulfill my birthday duties, which included eating cake and being merry.
    The voices from outside my door were getting louder and louder, creeping their way into my personal space. I turned up the volume on the stereo and began rummaging for something to wear, when I saw myself in the mirror across the room. Clad in nothing but underpants and a bra, I studied my reflection. Mom said I had grown into my height that summer. I wasn’t as gawky, “less like a filly,” she said. My hair was the longest it had ever grown, layers of dark blonde passing my shoulders, and even my nose didn’t jut out as much. Regal, I thought. Which brought the focus to my hazel eyes, speckled in green and gold. The bra comes in very handy , I laughed to myself. There really wasn’t anything there to hold up, but it crossed my mind that if you wish for it, it will come. In this case, I just wanted to be prepared.
    Settling on a white tank top and a long, blue skirt, I took one last look at myself in the mirror and decided that other than still being flat as a pancake, I didn’t look so bad. I was tanned from the walks to the hospital, and with the white shirt against my skin, the tan seemed richer and deeper. I’d even thrown on some lipstick, something I never wore, but being sixteen now, it seemed like it was time.
    My mother noticed my new look right away, and I could tell she was pleased with what she saw. I held up the watch she had bought me, wearing it proudly on my wrist. She had accomplished what she’d intended, the happy-go-lucky family complete with a man by her side. Seeing her seated there in her glory, smitten with her efforts, I felt guilty for not being able to enjoy myself. She did look happy though, happier than I’d seen her in recent years on recent birthdays. She noticed my gaze and smiled up at me from