Birthday cake

Mummy's cutting the birthday cake and I've just made my birthday
wish.

I'm licking the icing off my fingers, my sister's whining. The icing is
pink, just like i wanted, and Mummy made it just right.

We're sitting at the kitchen table, i'm wearing my birthday hat, when
Daddy puts down his fork with a deep sigh, and suddenly the room is
still.

"I'm... not... happy."

he says slowly, as if the words hurt.

Mummy freezes in her skin, looks over at this big beautiful man.
Her eyes are blue.

And i feel angry.
Here he is, even my sister has stopped whining, and it's MY
birthday.
My time.

Then the pink icing sticks in my throat, it hits me,
and I want to cry.

I realise, just seven years old, that it was selfish to wish for a new
bike, when i should have asked for a new heart for Daddy.