And when Michael showed up late on account of having been in detention, Grandmere didn't say anything mean about it,
which was such a relief, because Michael looked kind of flushed, as if he'd run the whole way from his apartment after he'd gone home to change. I guess even Grandmere could tell he'd really tried to be on time.
And even someone who is totally immune to normal human emotion like Grandmere would have to admit that my boyfriend was the handsomest guy in the whole restaurant. Michael's dark hair was sort of flopping over one eye, and he looked SO
cute in his non-school-uniform jacket and tie, which is part of the mandatory dress code at Les Hautes Manger (I warned
him ahead of time).
Anyway, Michael's showing up was kind of the signal I guess for everyone to start handing me the presents they'd got me.
And what presents! I am telling you, I cleaned up. Being fifteen RULES!
DAD
OK, so Dad got me a very fancy and expensive-feeling pen - to use, he said, to further my writing career (I am using it to
write this very journal entry). Of course I would have rather had a season pass to Six Flags Great Adventure theme park for the summer (and permission to stay in this country to use it) but the pen is very nice, all purple and gold, and has HRH
Princess Amelia Renaldo engraved on it.
MOM and MR G
A mobile phone!!!!!!!!!!! Yes!!!!!!!!! Of my very own!!!!!!!!!
Sadly the mobile phone was accompanied by a lecture from Mom and Mr G about how they'd only bought it for me so that they can reach me when my mom goes into labour, since she wants me to be in the room (this is so not going to happen due
to my excessive dislike of seeing anything spurt out of anything else, but you don't argue with a woman who has to pee twenty-four hours a day) while my baby brother or sister is born, and how I'm not to use the phone during school and how
it is a domestic-use-only calling policy, nothing transatlantic, so when I am in Genovia don't think I can call Michael on it.
But I didn't pay any attention, because YAY! I actually got something on my list!!!!!
GRANDMERE
OK, this is very weird because Grandmere actually gave me something else from my list. Only it wasn't bungee cords, a cat brush or new overalls. It was a letter declaring me the official sponsor of a real live African orphan named Johanna!!!!!!! Grandmere said, 'I can't help you end world hunger, but I suppose I can help you send one little girl to bed every night with
a good dinner.'
I was so surprised, I nearly blurted out, 'But, Grandmere! You hate poor people!' because it's true, she totally does. Whenever she sees those runaway teen punk rockers who sit outside Lincoln Center in their leather jackets and Doc Martens, with those signs that say Homeless and Hungry, she always snaps at them, 'If you'd stop spending all your money on tattoos and naval rings, you'd be able to afford a nice sublet in NoLita!
But I guess Johanna is a different story, seeing as how she doesn't have parents back in Westchester who are sick with worry about her.
I don't know what is going on with Grandmere. I fully expected her to give me a mink stole or something equally revolting for my birthday. But getting me something I actually wanted . . . helping me to sponsor a starving orphan . . . that is almost thoughtful of her. I must say, I am still in a bit of shock over the whole thing.
I think my mom and dad feel the same way. My dad ordered up a Martini after he saw what Grandmere had given me, and
my mom just sat there in total silence for like the first time since she got pregnant. I am not kidding, either.
Then Lars gave me his gift, even though it is not correct Genovian protocol to receive gifts from one's bodyguard (because
look what happened to Princess Stephanie of Monaco: her bodyguard gave her a birthday present, and she MARRIED him. Which would have been all right if they'd had anything in common, but Stephanie's bodyguard isn't the least bit interested in eyebrow threading, and Stephanie clearly knows nothing about ju-jitsu, so the whole thing was off to a rocky start to begin with).
Anyway, you could tell Lars had really put a lot of thought into his gift, because it was:
LARS
An authentic New York Police Department Bomb Squad baseball cap, which Lars got from an actual NYPD bomb squad officer once when he was sweeping Grandmere's suite at the Plaza for incendiary devices prior to a visit from the Pope. Which I thought was SO sweet of Lars, because I know how much he treasured that hat, and the fact that he was willing to give it to me is true proof of his devotion, which I highly doubt is of the matrimonial variety, since I happen to know Lars loves Mademoiselle Klein, like all heterosexual men who come within seven feet of her.
But the best present of all was the one from Michael. He didn't give it to me in front of everybody else. He waited until I got
up to go to the bathroom just now, and followed me. Then just as I was starting down the stairs to the ladies', he went, 'Mia, this is for you. Happy birthday,' and gave me this flat little box all wrapped up in gold foil.
I was really surprised - almost as surprised as I'd been over Grandmere's gift. I was all, 'Michael, but you already gave me
a present! You wrote that song for me! You got detention for me!'
But Michael just went, 'Oh, that. That wasn't your present. This is.'
And I have to admit, the box was little and flat enough that I thought - I really did think - it might have prom tickets in it. I thought maybe, I don't know, that Lilly had told Michael how much I wanted to go to the prom, and that he'd gone and
bought the tickets to surprise me.
Well, he surprised me, all right. Because what was in the box wasn't prom tickets.
But still, it was almost as good.
MICHAEL
A necklace with a tiny little silver snowflake hanging from it. 'From when we were at the Non-denominational Winter Dance,' he said, like he was worried I wouldn't get it. 'Remember the paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling of the gym?'
Of course I remembered the snowflakes. I had one in the drawer of my bedside table.
And, OK, it isn't a prom ticket or a charm with Property of Michael Moscovitz written on it, but it comes really, really
close.
So I gave Michael a great big kiss right there by the stairs to the ladies' room, in front of all the Les Hautes Manger waiters
and the hostess and the coat check girl and everyone. I didn't care who saw. For all I care, US Weekly could have snapped
all the shots of us they wanted - even run them on the front cover of next week's edition with a caption that says Mia Makes Out! - and I wouldn't have blinked an eye. That's how happy I was.
Am. That's how happy I am. My fingers are trembling as I write this, because I think, for the first time in my life, it is possible that I have finally, finally reached the upper branches of the Jungian tree of self-actual—