On Signs:

Leaning back contentedly in my seat, I looked around at Pissed Off, her family, their friends. The wine had been flowing freely for hours, and the adults were laughing and making jokes as the kids ran around the room. After five courses of authentic Italian cuisine (too delicious to describe with any justice), the morning's First Communion service was a wine-clouded memory and we were all full and happy.

The short, bald man serving us wore a red vest and spoke freely with us in English and Italian. Giuseppe had friendly eyes and a fantastic attitude. He placed the plates in front of Pissed Off and me simultaneously and turned to retrieve dessert for the rest of the party. I'm certain he wasn't malicious when he served my cake.

The cake was yellow with chocolate filling. It had white icing and blue flowers and icing wishing Pissed Off's brother a happy First Communion. When Giuseppe set mine down, the bottom of the upended slice faced my direction, the icing out of my sight. When I turned the plate around to have the icing face me, there it was: N.R.A.

The weekend had already been overcast with thoughts of NRA Guy. Saturday was his birthday. And, suddenly, probably having consumed at least a bottle of Chianti on my own,* I was sitting in his home state and faced with the prospect of eating a slice of remarkably birthday-like cake with his name (literally) on it.** I poked Pissed Off's arm to get her attention and pointed a finger at the offending iced letters. Her eyes widened as she looked at it, and we exchanged plates with one another.

I haven't heard from NRA since the last time we saw each other. He hasn't contacted me, and I've been relatively content with that. A small part of me wishes we could maintain some kind of friendship, but I know that's unrealistic. I'd been debating for weeks what I should do regarding his birthday. Contact or no? If so, what form? A card would require no response, but would also:
1. (if he's still really mad at me) give him something tangible to rip into a million shreds and piss on; and/or
2. (if he's dating someone else) cause major issues.

If not a card, then what? An e-mail? An e-card? A text? (A phone call was never an option.) By the time the weekend arrived, I was still uncertain about contacting him. The only thing I did know is that, if I were to wish him happy birthday, I would wait until after the day.

The cake thing kind of confounded my evening. A few people who heard the story retold mentioned that it "must be a sign." I suggested that the sign was I didn't need to trust lying jerks.

Still, I'm a sap, and I had many hours to occupy during the drive home Sunday. I sent NRA a text*** saying I hoped he'd had an excellent birthday. He responded with the brief (and appropriate) "Thanks."

I did open myself to the potential of more drunk calls, but his response didn't make me fear that on the horizon. If I'm wrong, I hope I'll have the good sense to ignore any incoming calls from his number in the near future.


* If I were a less happy drunk, this stupid little coincidence would have undoubtedly elicited tears.
** NRA and Pissed Off's little brother share a common first name. NRA goes by an abbreviation thereof, which is how I ended up with his name on my cake.
*** I was unhappy to discover that I had not, in fact, forgotten NRA's number, as I'd convinced myself I had.