Baby blue pink balloons bob merrily in the breeze, fixed to the mailbox announcing the location and occasion all at once.

I sit in my car for a bit, radio off. I watch as the other guests walk in, some women dressed in jewel tones like great tropical birds, boxy wrapped gifts at their sides.

The clock ticks, showing the party start time. It ticks again later, showing half pass.

I should just leave. Shouldn’t I?

She’d understand. Wouldn’t she?

I put the key in the ignition and it dangles there, the keys clanging into each other. It would be so easy to drive off and drop the present later . . .

No. I yank the keys out and toss them in my purse and breathe shakily though my nose. She held my hand the whole time and took care of me during the worst parts of it. She was the first person I saw when they wheeled me back in.

I get out before I can over think it, grabbing my purse and the present. It’s a beautiful day, breezy, the sun shining, the perfect day to celebrate new life.

My hand shakes as I get to the registration table. I grab a pen and sign in. I dutifully write a note of advice for the new parents and see the display, She or He, What will I be?

I don’t doubt my selection. Sharona would love a girl. She’s always talked about having a daughter with all the bows, dresses, and mini me fashion. We spent many a night talking about raising girls together, doing Girl Scouts and sleepovers. Something tells me that today she’ll beat me to it.

I breathe through my nose and try to smile. This is a happy occasion. I’m happy for my best friend. I really am.

I make my way to the tent where tight knots of women gather, plucking appetizers from pass entrees. I see her hugging a tiny old women in a emerald green wrap. Her great aunt Jean, the one who would slip us fives for snacks and tell us to watch out for boys. I really wished I had listened to her advice.

Sharona sees me and walks straight to me. She’s glowing, dressed in a swirly white dress that accentuates her baby bump. She’s glowing.

Her arms wrap around me crushing me and the thick block in my throat grows tighter, like a dam threatening to burst. She holds on to me and squeezes me. When she lets go, her eyes are smiling but tinged with sadness. “I’m so happy you came.”

“I had to see my best girl,” I said. I handed her the flat yellow box I brought. We don’t say anything more and everything passes between us. “You mingle,” I say, gesturing to the guests. She knows and squeezes me again.

I stand awkwardly at the edges of happiness. I don’t know everyone but ghosts of girls I knew in middle school and high school show up in the women in front of me. We make the dutiful small talk of whatever one has been up to. Mostly marriage. Lots of children. I smile as phones pass with staged family portraits, Halloween costumes, and home photos. I keep smiling but am ragged by the end of it.

Ms. Johnson, Sharona’s mom sees and wraps me up in a hug. “It’ll be your turn again soon,” she says, squeezing me tight. Tears burn in my throat. I know she means well, but when she releases me I look for a waiter, hoping to God there’s something stronger than these mocktails to drink.

I don’t get five feet before the big gender reveal is announced and we’re ushered to our hard white chairs. I sit near the back by the open tent wall and take deep breaths of the fresh breeze that wafts towards me. My nails dig into the leather of my bag, soft crescents biting into the surface. I think of my own day, of Sharona bringing me the special cup cake, my mom by my side. The life changing bite and the joyful tears that came after.

I’m a little relieved when they bring out a balloon. One quick pop and I could excuse myself.

Jonathan stands next to her, bronzed and handsome, the picture of a proud papa to be.

She glows next to him, a flower crown fixed into her curls.

We count down and she pricks it with a needle. Pink confetti explodes in the air, raining over us all.

Joyful shrieks fill the tent and Sharona jumps up and down. Jonathan wraps her up in his arms and you can feel their joy. He lifts up his shirt, revealing a pink shirt with girl dad written on it, causing gales of laughter.

I sit up straighter and clap with everyone else as my heart clenches. I look down at the bag on my lap. My nails have cut through the leather. I glance around as she opens up the gifts and look for my opportunity to leave.

I don’t want to go home.

My house’s empty and I can’t handle the locked extra bedroom right now. Maybe there’s a bar on the way . . .