And That Was That

The day I turned five, I made a wish. I wanted to grow up faster. Afterwards, while we were eating the cake, I told my older sister what I had wished for. She was nine at the time. She looked at me gravely and said, "Charlotte, if you tell someone your wish, it won't come true."
"What?" I demanded. "Why not? That's a stupid rule."
She shrugged. "That's the rule."
"Well I don't want it to be the rule."
She smiled fondly and ruffled my hair. "Sometimes we can't change the rules we don't like. We just have to follow them and do the best we can."
And that was that.

The day I turned six, I made a wish. I still wanted to grow up faster. I was careful not to tell anyone what I'd wished for this time. But my wish still didn't come true.
"May, why didn't my wish come true?" I asked my sister as we were eating the cake later.
"Sometimes it takes time," she told me. "Wishes can be hard to grant, you know."
I frowned. "But what if I want my wish granted now?"
"You'll have to be patient."
"Patience is stupid."
"Patience is important."
And that was that.

The day I turned seven, I made a wish. I wanted my baby brother gone. He had been born two months before and so far he had ruined everything. I couldn't get any sleep, because he cried all night. People came to our house all the time just to coo over the new baby. And worst of all, my parents were too busy doting on him to pay any attention to me. Even today, my mother was over in the corner, trying to stop him from crying. My father was distracted from the party, constantly glancing over.
When my sister came over to eat cake with me, I scowled down at my plate, not even picking up my fork.
She put an arm around my shoulders. "Not eating, Charlotte? Come on, it's chocolate cake. Cheer up, it's your birthday! The birthday girl shouldn't be sad."
"I'm not sad!" I burst out. "I want Mikey gone! He's ruining everything! I want my life back."
She smiled down at me and squeezed my shoulders. "You know, that's how I first felt about you when you came along." I looked up at her in shock. "It's true. You got all the attention. But I promise, you'll learn to love him."
"Never," I insisted. "I'll never love him."
She just smiled. "Eat your cake, Charlotte."
And that was that.

The day I turned eight, I made a wish. I wished that my mother would get her job back. I didn't understand much of what was going on around the house, but I knew we were having trouble with money. There were a lot of things we had to go without, and my mother and father were always yelling to each other about things I didn't understand. My sister understood some of it, though, and she was always looking worried. I had wanted a birthday party at the amusement park, but my mother had said it was too expensive. So instead we had to have a party at our house, with just cake and ice cream and a few battered old board games. I wasn't even allowed to invite more than a few friends over, because our house was so small.
My sister came over to play Monopoly with us, but my heart wasn't in it. She looked at me. "What's wrong, Charlotte?"
"None of my wishes ever come true," I said. "I want Mom to find a job."
"She will," she assured me. "I promise."
"How can you be sure?"
"I just am. I always keep my promises."
And that was that.

The day I turned nine, I made a wish. I wished that I had more friends. Everybody at school avoided me, and I didn't know why. I looked down at the nearly whole cake in disappointment, then around at the empty room. I had invited every girl in my class, but only one had come.
My sister sat down next to me. "What's wrong, Charlotte?"
"I don't have any friends," I said glumly.
"What? Why not? You're such a nice girl, I'm sure you have some."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "They all avoid me!"
"Do you do anything that they might not like?"
"Well . . . I punched Penelope last week."
"Why would you do that?"
"She asked for some of my cookie at lunch and when I said no she called me selfish. So I punched her."
"Charlotte, we don't punch people who call us names, all right? Just ignore her next time, and if you really can't stand it, tell the teacher. And next time someone asks for something of yours, maybe you should share."
"But it was my cookie!"
"Sharing is good. You don't have to give away the whole thing, but try to be nice."
And that was that.

The day I turned ten, I made a wish. Just like I had when I was younger, I wished I could grow up faster. Later that day, my sister and I were taking a walk through the park. She had a ten-dollar bill in her pocket, which our mother had given to us for ice cream. We passed an old homeless man, who was sitting on a bench, begging passersby for money. Without a moment's hesitation, my sister swerved across the path to stand in front of him. She dug the bill out of her pocket and gave it to the man with a smile.
He smiled back at her, revealing swollen gums and blackened teeth. "God bless you, ma'am," he said, and she waved.
"God bless you too," she said, before walking back over to me.
"What are you doing?" I asked as we continued to walk. "That was our ice cream money!"
"He had more use of it than we did," she told me firmly. "Imagine yourself in his situation. You have no money, no shelter, no job. What's more important, us getting ice cream or him getting something to eat?"
"Him getting something to eat," I mutter reluctantly.
"Right. Charity is not only right, but it makes you feel good too."
And that was that.

The day I turned eleven, I made a wish. I wanted to be sixteen so I could drive, just like my sister. She was getting her driver's license in a few months, and she was already saving up to buy her own car.
"It's not fair," I complained as we were eating the cake we had made together earlier that day. "Why do you get to drive and I don't?"
"Just be patient, Charlotte," she told me seriously, then smiled. "After all, you're not even tall enough to see over the dashboard yet."
"I am too!" I said, even though I wasn't.
She chuckled. "Don't be in a hurry to grow up. It's not as great as it seems."
"I doubt that," I muttered.
"Childhood is a gift," she told me. "Don't take it for granted. Enjoy it while you have it."
And that was that.

The day I turned twelve, I made a wish. There was this boy at my school. He was a grade ahead of me, and just about every girl in the school had a major crush on him, me included. This year my wish was for him to fall as much in love with me as I had with him.
I stabbed my fork into my cake, twirling the plastic prongs around in the frosting. My sister came over to sit next to me.
"What did the poor cake ever do to you?"
"Nothing," I muttered, laying down my fork.
"Is something wrong?"
I shook my head.
"It's about a guy, am I right?"
"How did you know?"
"I know that look. Tell me about him. Why do you like him?"
"Well – well he's super cute, and – and all the girls like him . . ."
Her eyebrows raised. "That's it? You like him because he's cute and popular?"
I nodded.
"What about his personality? Have you ever actually talked to him?"
"Well . . . no . . ." I muttered.
"Here's some advice," she told me. "Don't waste your time on a boy just because everyone else has a crush on him. Find a guy you like for his personality, not his appearance."
"Okay," I said, and that was that.

The day I turned thirteen, I made a wish. I just wanted this whole bat mitzvah thing to be over. It was pointless and too fancy and I didn't even believe in God. I fingered the fabric of my stupid sequined party dress gloomily. Once the service was over, I was bombarded by relatives and family friends who I'd hardly even met telling me congratulations. Eventually, though, I was able to enjoy myself, boogying with my friends on the dance floor to the most popular music of the time. Eventually I got hungry and went to find some food. I took my plate over to my sister, who was at a table with some of her friends.
"What are you doing?" she asked me with a smile, raising her voice to be heard over the music. "You should be with your friends."
I shrugged. "All they want to do is dance. I'm hungry."
"Okay," she said with a shrug, and that was that.

The day I turned fourteen, I made a wish. I didn't want my sister to go.
"Couldn't you have chosen a college closer to home?" I asked her as I helped her pack up her mess of a room in countless boxes. "I'm going to miss you."
She smiled and hugged me. "Charlotte, it's not that far away. It's just a few hours. I promise I'll come back at least once a month, all right?"
"Okay," I said glumly.
"Come on," she said, opening up a new box and labeling it "trash". "Help me clear off my desk."
And that was that.

Two days before I turned fifteen, my sister's car was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from school, where she had stayed for an extra semester. I spent my birthday in the cemetery, dressed in black and boiling in the hot August sun. The rabbi stood at the head of the grave, droning on and on about how she was in a better place and with God and she would be missed here but we would all see her again when we died.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, and, despite the lack of candles to blow out, made a wish.
May . . . I want you to come back.
But she never did. And that was that.