Myra Marie had told Bobby Lee to go on to bed. She felt the need to be awake as she made the transition from 39 to 40. She had turned off the living room lamp and unlocked the front door and opened it halfway.

Sitting against the corner of the couch, she lit a cigarette. Invisible city crickets chirped in the cool night air. For a moment she could listen to them and smile. The only thing in California that even remotely resembled back home.

When she had lived there, she has spent her time rebelling against it, and plotting ways to leave it. But that was years ago. She was honest enough with herself now to admit that there was a lot she missed about back home. The sadness that regularly came now when she heard the crickets blended with her sense of loss.

But what was she losing? She was only turning 40. She hated feeling this way. She had always loved birthdays.

The cool air was a balm against her hot face. For the past few weeks here face had been flushed, like she had a low-grade fever. Tears would come easily. She had practically bitten off Bobby Lee's head today over nothing. April was being as understanding as a 15 year old can be.

The glow from the moon shone across the tan bark and the fence separating the 'yards' of the duplex facing heres. Zero landscaping they called it. Zero.

Myra Marie flipped on the porch light briefly to check her watch. 11:45 p.m. She took a last puff from her cigarette before flicking it out on the narrow slab of concrete that served as the porch of their duplex. She watched the glowing ember dying out. Even a cigarette dying seemed sad.

Myra Maried closed the door and turned on the light switch. On the couch, she was mesmerized by the hands creeping towards midnight. Bobby Lee had asked her why midnight. Midnight felt right.

Closer. Screw it. She lit another cigarette. She lit it as a 39 year old. She watched the flame of the Bic die. 30 seconds. It was coming.

She inhaled. Midnight. She exhaled. She was 40.

She mentally probed herself, like a person checking themselves for injuries after an accident. Nope, felt the same. No sudden plunge over the edge.

She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray she had stolen from the adult motel her and Bobby Lee had gone to on their first anniversary, and snapped on the TV quickly with the remote. She watched a few minutes of The Tonight Show before deciding it just wasn't the same without Johnny.

 

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