A Fortunate Accident – Chapter 5

I was eight years old the last time I tried to celebrate a birthday. I think it’s important to note that I did not have a sixth or seventh birthday celebration either. But for this birthday, it just so happened Mom was home on the Mikasa, and therefore the dads were forced to actually do something. This was before Juan came aboard, and Ana was only five, Jukia only three.

Now, as an adult, I completely understand why some people don’t do birthdays at all. They may think it’s dumb or silly, or it may be a religious thing, or they may not have the credits to do anything. The reason doesn’t matter because it’s personal. But for me, I had only books as my friends, and I had read a million and one stories about awesome birthdays. I had seen my older brothers have awesome birthdays. An awesome birthday was what I wanted.

Can you blame a girl?

No, most people would not. Most families fawn over their children and their holidays. My older brothers Oliver and Raphael got plenty of birthday presents and parties. They had friends because they could go wherever they wanted to. Our tutor spoiled them just as much as the dads did. Me, though? I was never spoiled. I went nowhere. I owned nothing that did not also belong to my younger sisters.

So, on my eighth birthday, I dreamed of how the day would go with Mom home. I had asked for a small party with games, cake, and ice cream, and this intricate puzzle set I saw on the duonet. It wasn’t a lot, and I figured it was enough to be a worthy celebration. Mom would love the cake, and she loved puzzles too. I thought we could do them together.

Mom was around less and less, and I missed her more and more. When she was home, I had fewer things to do around the ship, and my life was calmer. Miguel, Dominic, or my dad would do things they expected me to do, like taking care of Ana or Jukia or cleaning the kitchen. I wasn’t cooking then yet. That was still another two years away. On this birthday with Mom home, I figured I may get the day off from all the drudgery of life, so I dressed in one of the last nice dresses I ever had and skipped out to the living area, feeling happy for once.

When I rounded the corner into the family room, though, my good mood vanished in a flash.

My older brother, Raphael, stood with tears in his eyes, his face red and swollen with sadness, talking to Dominic.

“But she doesn’t deserve a birthday party!” His lower lip quivered, and Dominic set a hand on his shoulder. “You ground Skylar all the time for not doing her work. You told us only the good kids get presents and parties.”

I backed away from the door before they could see me. My little eight-year-old body wanted to fly forward and knock Raphael over for being so mean. Yeah, they grounded me all the time, but for stupid shit like walking down the hall too loudly or not writing my assignments neatly or breathing wrong.

“I know what I said,” Dominic replied. “And I meant it. You boys, you and Oliver, are the future of this family. Maybe even Jukia too. And you all deserve the world. Skylar gets a party and presents today, but it means nothing. I promise.”

“I don’t believe you. Mom won’t stop talking about she’s ‘first-daughter this’ and ‘first-daughter that.’ What about us?” Raphael’s voice pitched high and squeaked.

“You will grow up to have whatever you want. Today, though, we have to do this.”

“No. I hate it. I hate you and Mom and Skylar.”

I was frozen in my spot and didn’t react quickly enough to move when he came barreling around the corner. Raphael ran right into me, and he used his momentum to shove me out of his path. I hit the wall with a thunk and lost my breath for a moment.

“Stay out of the way, you spoiled brat!” he yelled before pounding off down the hall.

I still look back on this moment as the turning point for my relationships with my older brothers. They pretended for years to get along with me in front of the adults. There were only a few times, like this one, where they let go of the act to whine or get mad about not being the center of attention. They probably complained about me behind my back for years, and I had no idea.

“Skylar, get in here,” Dom’s voice echoed out of the family room. My knees locked up, and my heart pounded in my chest. My heartbeat rang in my ears. I was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to do anything. Dominic had proven to me repeatedly that when he called, I’d better come, or I would regret it.

I turned the corner with my chin up. It was my birthday, and I would not let these people get me down.

He sighed when he saw me. “I thought we got rid of that dress. It doesn’t fit you.”

I pulled at the sleeves, wishing they were longer like they had been two years ago when Mom gave me the dress.

“I like it. It fits just fine,” I said. I wanted to cross the room to the kitchen and get a snack, but Dominic held me prisoner with his locked gaze.

“Go get changed and bring me the dress.” His tone of voice was final. “We’ll give the dress to Jukia when she’s old enough to wear it.”

But something inside of me snapped. He was constantly taking my possessions away from me, determined for me to have no joy, no light in my life. And I loved that dress. It was one of the last things I owned that was fun and pretty.

“No. The dress is mine. It’s my birthday, and I want to wear it today.”

My brain panicked, and my body shook with fear and rage. I tried never to speak back to Dom. He was the ruler of the whole damned family, and I was always his first target whenever he got angry.

He took one step forward. “Just because it’s your birthday, Missy, doesn’t mean you can talk back to me. We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior around here.”

“Where’s Mom?” I asked, looking up at him. “She said she’d be here.”

“She’s delayed, and don’t change the subject.” Dominic looked over his shoulder just as my dad came into the room. He had a smile on his face and a wrapped present in his hand. But his mood cooled as Dominic rounded on him. “Your disobedient daughter is giving me a hard time about changing out of this dress that’s too small for her. Do I need to ground her again for not following directions?”

My father’s shoulders dropped. “Dom, come on. It’s her birthday. Fusako will be here soon to celebrate.”

“Are you going to give me a problem, too?” The threat in Dominic’s voice was crystal clear.

I saw my father’s Adam’s apple bob from across the room. “It’s her birthday,” he stressed. “Give her a break.”

Nope. Dominic drew in a long breath and let it all go, and I knew I was in trouble.

Dominic’s eyes skated over the room, and he stalked past me, getting close enough so I could feel the rush of his steps. He took the boxed cake that Miguel had picked up on Sonoma the previous day, opened it, and tipped the cake out. Everything moved in slow motion, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to stop a strangled scream. The cake tumbled, end over end, and hit the floor, the icing plopping with a wet squish and the rest of the cake collapsing around it.

“Oh no,” Dom said, his tone flatter than the cake on the floor. “Looks like we won’t be celebrating at all. Sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”

I… I couldn’t speak. I stood there and thought about how I would kill Dominic if the chance ever presented itself. I was eight years old and already comprehending the concept of murder, what it would take to commit it, hide the body, and then fake innocence for the rest of my life. I wanted him dead, deader than space.

But he was strong and almost a meter taller than me. The balance of power was tipped to his side, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I summoned up strength, crossed the room to the cake, reached down, and grabbed a handful for myself. I knew how clean the kitchen was because I cleaned it myself almost every day. I opened my mouth and stuffed it full of cake, looking Dominic in the eye the whole time.

“Mmmm,” I said, chewing and swallowing before grabbing another handful. “It’s delicious, and it’s all for me.”

Dom’s face darkened from pale beige to crimson red in a blink. “You like eating trash off the floor?” he asked. Scooping icing into his hand, he turned and smashed it into the front of my dress.

“Hey!” I yelled at him. I grabbed a handful of icing and threw it at him. It landed on his face and in his hair. Nice shot, Skylar.

His face was the picture of rage, twisted and pinched. I had never done anything like that ever. Sure, I had fought him with words, but I never tried to resist him physically. He was just too big, and I was small, undernourished, and scared out of my mind he would send me out of the airlock when I least expected it.

Dom lunged over the destroyed cake and grabbed me by my hair. It was blinding pain, like nothing I had ever felt before, and I immediately started sobbing.

“No! Stop!” I cried. “Daddy!”

Dominic whipped me around, and my father stood there in shock.

“Hey! That’s uncalled for,” Dad said, stepping forward. “Let her go.”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking well please, and you know it,” he growled, and pushing past Dad, he jerked me down the hall by my hair, my scalp screaming with pain.

I sobbed through the ship. Each door we passed opened and produced another kid, either in shock or smirking. Oliver, shock. Raphael, smirk. Ana and Jukia, shock. Though I think Jukia was just too young to understand anything.

“Fusako!” Dom called out as we approached her room. He let go of my hair just in time, and my hands flew to my head to try to deaden the pain.

Mom’s door zipped open, and her cheerful face vanished. She was dressed for a party in a skirt, a pressed shirt with a vintage scarf, and cute little black flats. I remember the outfit well. That vintage scarf was bright red and orange, and I always knew my mom was dressed for success when she wore it.

But she faced a mess now, and her upright posture and bright face both sank in disappointment.

“Your first daughter ruined her own birthday by throwing her cake on the floor,” Dom said, jerking my shoulder.

“Skylar,” Mom admonished me. “How could you? On your own birthday!”

“I didn’t,” I protested. Tears soaked my lips, and I had cake all over me. “He threw it on the floor.”

“Why would I do such a thing?” Dom asked, pulling back with a gasp.

Honestly, he could have won awards for his portrayal of the put-upon father figure. Mom certainly believed him.

“Why would he do that, Skylar?” Mom asked, her hands on her hips.

“Because he hates me!” I shot back.

“I love you, Skylar,” Dom said, shock coating every syllable. “And this is the way you treat me?” He pointed to himself. “She threw cake at me.”

Mom huffed. “Sky, is this true?”

Uh oh. I had thrown the cake at him, and Mom could always tell when I was lying. This was before I learned to cover over every emotion I had, back before I held my thoughts and feelings in check like I cased them in cement.

“Yes. I did. After he threw my birthday cake on the floor.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” Mom said, throwing her hands out to the side. “No more birthdays for you, young lady. Not with this kind of attitude.” She tipped her head back, sighed, and stared at the ceiling for two long breaths.

“All the lying, all the disobedient behavior? I’ve had enough of it.” She came forward and stood over me, and this time, I wasn’t sad about the cake and my birthday. I was sad I had let her down. She pinched the fabric of my sleeve. “We’re going to be even more strict with you now, and I’m putting Dominic in charge of your upbringing. You’ll do better with him keeping a firm hand on you.” She looked past me to my dad in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Julian. It needs to be done. A Kawabata daughter can’t behave like this.” She stared down at me. “How do you expect to run our business and lead our family someday if you continue to behave like this? These are the acts of a spoiled child, not a first daughter. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

All the fight melted right out of me. I loved my mom more than anything, and hearing her say that about me? I was crushed, absolutely. I had spent the last three years learning to read and do math and passing tests with the highest possible score to prove to her I was smart enough for the job. I was eight, and I was already doing long division and reading far above my school level. I was also single-handedly raising Ana and Jukia to be just like me. Smart and capable. No one else had done that.

I had.

I thought that’s what a good obedient first daughter should do.

(I didn’t know any better.)

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She nodded. “Go to your room. No dinner and no dessert. And take off this ridiculous dress. It’s two sizes too small for you. Julian, buy her some more appropriate clothing, please.” She let go of me, stepped away, and frowned at the icing on her fingers. “And I got dressed up and everything,” she whispered.

“I’ll take care of it,” Dom said, his hand heavy on my shoulder. “And the videos will be in your inbox later.”

Mom waved this away. “Let’s have dinner soon. I don’t want the food to go to waste.”

“Of course, my love.”

Dom always trotted out the words of affection when he was close to getting his way.

This would have been an excellent time to knee him in the balls or run away, but I let him direct me to my room and lock me in there for two days. No food. Only the water I got from my bathroom.

I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror and promised myself I would never celebrate my birthday again. My birthday was dead, gone, buried deep in the dirt of my life. I would never feel that moment of happiness for just being born ever again. I blinked and saw myself as a powerful adult, chin up, no feelings, doing what she wanted. I willed the fabrication into existence. I would be so strong. No one would dare touch me again like Dom had.

My punishment continued for some time after. Later that week, he moved me to a new bedroom, the smallest one on the ship without its own bathroom. And everything went downhill from there.

But I remained strong.

And no one was ever going to push me around like that again.