Sweet Sixteen

Jane drums her fingers on the kitchen table. A still cooling vanilla cake sits on the counter across the room, filling the house with a warm, comforting scent.

“Jane, get the door!”

Jane’s mom calls from the bathroom, where she’s been for the last twenty minutes, scrubbing the toilet, sink, and floor. Jane can’t understand why she still insists on cleaning the old-fashioned way, with rags and brushes and bleach, but at least she doesn’t have to help this time.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

“Jane!”

She runs to the front door and throws it open.

“Happy birthday, kid! Or should I call you old lady?”

“Hi, Pop!” Jane’s grandfather steps into the house and gently sets a large, beautifully wrapped box on the floor beside them, freeing up his tattooed arms for a hug.

“I’m not an old lady, I’m sixteen.” Jane says, smiling widely. Her grandpa beams down at her with his perfectly straight, white teeth and slicked back salt and pepper hair, then kisses her on top of the head.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I could have sworn your mom told me you were sixty,” he teases.

Jane rolls her eyes. “Haw haw, very funny.”

“Winter? Where are you?” he yells to the empty living room. The bright yellow streamers on the ceiling are ruffling quietly with the gentle wind of the ceiling fan.

Jane’s mom leans out of the bathroom and waves with a blue, bamboo cleaning glove on her hand. “Hey, dad! Just a minute, I’m finishing up the bathroom. It’s so frustrating I can’t use Windex on this damn smart mirror.”

“Don’t diss those smart mirrors,” he scolds, walking toward the bathroom. “They’re not just for makeup, you know. Remember how mine told me to get that mole checked?”

Jane’s attention drifts from her mother and grandfather chattering quietly at the back of the house. She spots a bowl full of homemade chocolate frosting on the counter, scoops up a glob with her forefinger, and plops it on her tongue. Sucking her finger, she hops back to the living room and peers out the large bay window that overlooks their three-acre flower farm. No cars yet, other than Mom’s Nissan and Pop’s Rivian with its jet-black windows.

Without thinking, Jane reaches up to her temple to tap the screen of her glasses on, then quickly remembers that Mom confiscated them just an hour ago. “I want you to unplug and enjoy your party. In real life,” she said. As if her iGlasses somehow dampen her experience of real life.

Jane sighs and glances up at the analog clock on the wall. Little hand between six and seven… nine times five is forty-five… 6:45. In fifteen minutes, Jane’s friends will start arriving. She invited twenty or so kids from her school, which is almost her whole grade. But only her three best friends—Jax, Sophia, and Blue—said they could make it. That is, until word got around that Jane’s grandfather, Grey Carter, will be in attendance, and has even agreed to play a song or two. Now, Jane is expecting at least seventeen of her classmates. They’ll all be more excited about Grey than celebrating her birthday, of course, but she doesn’t mind that. Jane, too, is more excited about her grandpa being there than she is about her birthday.

She sits down on the light pink couch by the window, crossing her legs underneath her. Her eyes dart to the shimmering box by the door. The design on the wrapping paper is simple—light blue with gold stars—but it looks thick and expensive. Not the kind you could get at Target. The delicate white bow on the front is clearly hand-tied by someone who gets paid to do that sort of thing. Everything her grandpa does is like that—just better.

“What do you think it is?” Grandpa is leaning against the wall that separates the living and dining rooms, both hands in the pockets of his vintage denim jacket.

“I think it’s a new guitar,” Jane guesses confidently, raising her eyebrows at him. He grabs the box, sets it in front of her, and sits to her right on the couch.

“Hey, Win, quit your cleaning and get in here,” he calls in the direction of the bathroom. “Jane’s about to open my present.” He shifts his eyes at Jane and smirks.

Jane’s mom walks into the living room, tossing her gloves on the table to be washed later. “I just finished. Okay, go ahead!” She flashes Jane a bright smile and stands in front of them, awaiting the reveal. Jane tears into the paper with her fingernails and cuts the tape on the corners of the box (her mom runs to fetch a kitchen knife for that part), revealing a shining, curved sliver of dark wood.

“I knew it!” Jane shouts, pulling out a brand-new Taylor 300 Grand Symphony, with a mahogany body and a Soundport cutaway. “Grandpa, thank you!”

“You got it, kid! But Grandpa?” He wrinkles his nose. “We talked about this.”

“Sorry, Pop. I love it so much!” She leans over and wraps her right arm around his shoulders, left hand clutching the instrument’s neck. Her mom is still standing in front of them, snapping pictures with her refurbished 2043 iPhone Neon. “An ancient relic,” Jane always teases.

“Thanks, Dad,” Jane’s mom says with sincerity. “She’s been eyeing that for a long time.”

“It’s nothing,” he responds. “Just make sure she plays it.” He turns to Jane sharply. “A lot.”

“Oh, I definitely will!” Jane lifts the leather strap over her head and starts off toward the stairs, lightly strumming an A minor chord.

“Not right now,” Mom calls after her, smiling to hide the impatience in her voice. “Your friends will be here soon. Oh, shoot—” She runs off to the kitchen.

Jane turns on her heels to face her grandfather, still sitting on the couch. “Pop, are you really gonna play something tonight?” she asks.

“Only if you play with me,” he answers, nodding to the guitar still hanging from her neck. Jane beams and blushes with a sudden nervousness. Through the bay window, they both hear the muffled voices of two boys from Jane‘s class, Dustin and Horatio, who are walking up the driveway toward the front door.

“Win,” Grandpa calls. “Some kids are showing up. What do you think, should I get the door?” He smiles and winks at Jane, who is in the corner now, leaning her most prized new possession against the wall by the baby grand piano.

“What? Dammit, they’re early.” Mom runs over with a spatula covered in chocolate icing. She shoots a glare at her father. “Absolutely not. Go to the back yard or something and I’ll come get you when it’s time to come out.”

“Mom, come on!” Jane begs. She really wants to see the looks on their faces. Mom hesitates a second, then realizes there is no time to argue when three loud knocks echo through the room. She throws up her hands and walks back to the kitchen, defeated.

“Ready?” Grandpa whispers to Jane, who nods excitedly. He opens the door.

The boys’ faces do not disappoint, and autographs are signed in the first minute.

“Hey, Jane! Happy birthday!” Horatio says warmly, only after he’s received his signed poster. He gives Jane a quick hug. “Oh my god, I can’t believe Grey Carter is your dad,” he whispers.

“Thanks! He’s actually my grandpa, but that’s fi—”

“Grey, can you play Secret? That one is so good—wait! Is the whole band here?!” Horatio’s long, blond hair is swishing with excitement as he looks around the room. Dustin isn’t saying anything, but he can’t stop smiling—or staring.

Grey responds coolly, “Nah, just a solo gig tonight, boys. Unless this one’ll make it a duo.” He grabs Jane firmly by the shoulder. “And hell yeah, I can play Secret. That’s one of my favorites, too. But come on in, have some snacks, make fun of the birthday girl.”

The rest of the guests are uncharacteristically punctual. Bonnie screams a little bit. Troye looks unfazed, like he’s trying really hard to play it cool. Olivia M gets awkwardly flirtatious, which Olivia P calls her out for, laughing cruelly. Finneus, Sizzy, and Deborah all ask to touch Grey’s hair, which he allows. Leo, Beck, and Vicky all ask to touch his abs, which he does not. Britney and Blair are the most easygoing, offering a polite hug and a genuine, “It’s so cool to meet you.” Every last one of them gets an autograph, and Jane is enjoying herself immensely.

The last and most important group arrives at 7:05—Jax, Sophia, and Blue. Jax runs through the door first, wraps his arms around Jane’s slender frame and lifts her from the ground, squeezing with all his might.

“HAPPY SIXTEEEEEEN!” he sings, waving her whole body back and forth like an amusement park ride. Sophia and Blue trot in close behind and join in on the celebrating, strengthening the hug three times as much.

“Okay, okay, I can’t breathe!” Jane pleads. Jax puts her down.

“Where are your glasses?” asks Sophia.

“Oh, thaaat’s what it is,” Blue cuts in. “I knew you looked a little naked.” She taps twice on the top of her own translucent pair in sunset orange (the trendiest color option this year), snapping a candid photo of the other three.

“I know. My mom won’t let me have them for the party.”

“Wait, that’s so dumb,” Jax empathizes. “I know she’s strict, but it’s your birthday. Can’t she—Hold on, is that him?” He lowers his voice. Sophia lets out a quick gasp as they all follow his gaze to the backyard, where the rest of the party is now splitting into two groups at Grey’s direction.

“Yep.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” asks Sophia.

“Almost a year ago. He was on tour over Christmas.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t met him yet,” says Blue.

“Yeah, why haven’t we met him yet?” asks Sophia.

Jane’s eyes narrow.

“Your mom,” states Jax, matter-of-factly.

Jane quickly smiles and shrugs, brushing off her mother’s overbearance. Nothing can bring her down today. “It’s fine,” she states, making her way toward the piano. “He’s gonna invite me on tour with him soon, and there’s no way she would stop me from going.”

Sophia looks shocked. “He said he’s inviting you on tour?” she asks.

“Well, he didn’t say so, but I know he is. Look at what he got me.” Jane picks up the guitar from its new home by the piano and holds it out like a showpiece.

“Wowww,” Jax gasps. He reaches toward the instrument. “Can I try?”

“Not before I’ve played it!” Jane exclaims, playfully incredulous. “I’ll let you play it later.”

A sudden cacophony of voices erupts from outside. “Jane, get out here!” shouts Grey, popping his upper body through the back door. He sounds out of breath.

“What are you guys playing?” Jane asks, laughing. “How are you already sweaty?”

“It’s called Red Rover, and the other team needs you, now get out here!”

“Please tell me I did not just hear you say Red Rover.” Jane’s mom walks over from her cake decorating spot by the stove.

“Red Rover is the best game there is,” argues Grey.

“If by best you mean most violent,” Winter retorts.

“Yes, that is what I mean.”

“Mom, relax, we’ll be fine,” Jane says definitively, strolling past her to the yard with Jax, Blue, and Sophia in tow.

Jane and her guests spend the next hour playing more yard games, all introduced by Grey, who grows more performatively wounded each time the “youths” display their ignorance. “You’re all on your iGlasses way too much,” he keeps saying. “How have you never heard of freeze tag?!” Jane’s generation is used to hearing adults complain like this, but they all silently agree it feels wiser coming from a celebrity. Periodically, Jane glances through the kitchen window to spot her mom. She doesn’t seem annoyed, but she’s not outside cheering or taking pictures, which means she disapproves. She finally emerges during a rousing game of kick the can—Sophia is certain Grey made that one up—and lures the worn-out teenagers inside with the promise of pizza.

It’s 8:40, according to the big hand and little hand, and the sun is now tucked neatly behind the tree line, leaving a pretty, pink glow. Drips of grease and half-eaten pizza crusts clutter the table, and the party has splintered off into predictable clusters of friends.

“Ready, J?”

“I don’t know, Pop, everyone just wants to hear you.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the star today.”

Jane lets out a loud guffaw. “That’s not true.”

“They want to hear you, too. Even if they don’t know it yet.”

“I know I want to hear you,” says Blue, shooting Jane a daring smirk across the table.

“Dad, you can play, but don’t make Jane if she doesn’t want to.”

Jane stiffens. “Mom, stop. It’s fine. I want to,” she decides.

It takes all of a minute for Grey to usher the guests to the living room, where he has gathered all the downstairs furniture and oriented it to face the piano. Jane’s heart is racing as she double checks the tuning on her new guitar. The strings aren’t broken in yet, and she’s worried they might slip out of tune in the middle of a song. Most of the kids wouldn’t notice that, but Jane would, and it would surely distract her. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. She’s sung in front of her classmates before in plenty of school concerts, and she’s been singing along with Grey since she was old enough to speak. But those times were all just for fun. This is a real performance, and Jane knows she better not blow it.

The small crowd cheers when Grey takes his seat at the piano and plays the opening progression of one of his biggest hits—”Secret,” which has been featured on every major breakup playlist since its two-month reign at number one in 2029. Jane knows Grey is sick of playing this one, but it’s a crowd pleaser, and she likes how the chords groove under her fingertips. Her voice is feeling strong on the upper harmony, and her nerves subside as she sees each of her classmates’ eyes transfixed—sometimes even on her instead of Grey.

They do four more songs together, and although Grey is leading the show, he only takes the requests he knows Jane can play along with. Jane’s mom has been standing in the back of the room for the duration of the performance. She looks so old holding up her phone to record every song—older than her father, even—but Jane appreciates the support. She even appreciates it when, in between every song, her mom reminds the room that she is fine with them recording, but they are not to post any of the content online. Jane hopes to see thousands of similar videos posted someday, but she doesn’t need that extra layer of pressure tonight. In fact, Jane has been having so much fun playing and singing with Grey that her frustration at her mom has virtually vanished. That doesn’t last long.

“Oh no, no, no. That’s not going to happen.”

This is Jane’s mother’s response when Grey agrees, at Blue’s suggestion, that he should take her on tour with him for his next album.

“Oh no, no, no. That’s not going to happen.”

The party guests are oblivious to Jane’s sudden anguish. She whispers to Grey, “You take one. I’ll be right back,” and he nods, understandingly. Jane shoots daggers at her mother, walking past her to the master bedroom, where she follows closely behind.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Jane, listen.”

 “No, there’s no way I’m going to let you ruin this for me. Please don’t ruin this for me.”

 “Jane.”

Tears are beginning to form. Jane blinks them back, knowing how puffy she gets when she cries.

She opens her mouth to continue, but nothing comes out, so she crosses her arms and leans against the edge of the bed in a show of defiance. Her mother leans next to her, crossing her arms the same way.

“I don’t want to ruin anything for you,” she says, softly. “That’s exactly why I don’t think you should go on tour.”

“What?” Jane finds her words again. “That makes absolutely no sense!” She is powerless to the tears now.

“It does make sense.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Jane’s mother furrows her brow while Jane impatiently awaits her surely insufficient response.

“Do you know how I spent my sixteenth birthday?” She asks.

Jane is exasperated. “What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Lower your voice, Jane.”

She lowers her voice. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Look at how many friends you have out there. When I turned sixteen, I had one friend. Nancy, you remember her? Nancy was Colton’s daughter. Colton played drums for your grandpa for the first five…maybe six album cycles—"

“I know, mom, what is your point?”

“My point is that Nancy and I didn’t get to have school friends like you do. We spent half our lives on the tour bus with an online homeschooling tutor.”

Jane is quiet, arms still folded on her chest.

“On my sixteenth birthday, all I wanted to do, all I wanted to do, was go out to a hibachi restaurant with my mom, my dad, and Nancy. Mom offered to have a chef come to the house instead, she said it would be safer, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to go out to dinner at a normal restaurant like a normal family. So you know what they had to do? They had to call ahead and pay them to cancel two parties that already had reservations, just so they could reserve a private room. Then they had to escort us through the kitchen to avoid the paparazzi. And it wasn’t just me, my mom, my dad, and Nancy. It was also your grandpa’s security detail.”

“But you love Barrett.”

“I love Barrett now, but back then, I was scared of him.”

Jane laughs lightly. “Okay, I can understand that.”

“Yeah.” Winter lets out a deep sigh. “Every time the waiter or chef came into the room, I could hear all the other people in the restaurant, just talking, enjoying themselves. They had no idea how lucky they were. All I wanted was to be out there with them. But I couldn’t. We couldn’t.”

Jane’s arms are at her sides now, palms on the soft yellow blanket draped over her mom’s canopy bed. She stares at her feet as her grandpa enters the final chorus of “Hazy Lady.”

“That’s why I moved you out here. I love hearing you sing. You are so talented. But all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is for you to have a normal life.”

“But I’ve had a normal life.” Jane looks at her mom now. “What if I don’t want that anymore? What if I want a more exciting life?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Jane.”

Applause pours in through the cracked door and is quickly interrupted by a grand flourish of the piano.

Happy birthday to you

“Jane, come out here!”

Happy birthday to you

The two women stand up from the bed and step toward the door. Right before Jane pulls it open to accept the birthday ritual, her mom places her arm around her shoulders and speaks quietly in her ear. “Please trust me, Jane.”

Happy birthday, dear Ja-ane

The whole group is waiting by the piano as Jax speedwalks toward her from the kitchen, holding out a lovingly decorated cake with chocolate icing and sixteen lit candles.

Happy birthday to you!  

Jane makes her wish and blows out the candles in one puff.