One Year Ago

"He always loved you the most," her mother said, lifting her second dry martini to her lips. She fixed her turned gaze on Sera, daring her to challenge the weight of her truth.

"I was his only child. Stands to reason he loved me the most." Sera glanced at her smartwatch, counting down the seconds she could indulge in something stronger than water. Just a few more minutes. She sighed and turned her attention back to her mother, who was now casting a dark glare over the rim of her glass. "Unless there's something you want to tell me. Do I have a secret sibling you've been hiding all this time?"

"I'm not talking about your father," her mother said evenly, lowering her precarious drink to the bar.

Sera did a slow eye roll. "Of course you're not," she muttered. "Here we go again."

"He'll come to you in your dreams first." There was a slight slur curling around the edge of her words.

Sera cut her eyes away from her mother to the bartender. Mack was watching them – subtly, but definitely watching.

Sera realized her mother must have taken one of her pills, her precious pills, the ones that supposedly calmed her nerves. Her mother looked mostly fine. A little slouched, eyes focused, staring into the middle distance at the parade of glass bottles on the shelves, watching something only she could see. One of her episodes. Please, not tonight.

Sera exhaled, jaw tight. "Not this again, Mom. You're not making any sense."

She hated the sharpness in her own voice. Hated that her mother's nonsense still had the power to get under her skin. But tonight of all nights—please—not tonight. She was one minute away from ordering her first legal drink. Twenty-one, officially. Recognized by the great and glittering city of New York. Sure, she'd been drinking for years, but this one was legitimate. Mack was already crafting it: a raspberry vodka martini. Bright. Cheery. Cliché, sure—but fun. And hers.

"That's because you're not listening to me," her mother snapped, dragging her focus away from whatever invisible world she'd been watching.

Sera rolled her eyes. She always listened. She never got the chance to speak. For once, she wanted to talk about her own life – her own stuff- instead of everything always circling back to her mom.

"I am listening. This Zeph guy is going to show up in my dreams. See? I'm paying attention. I've been paying attention for years. But it seems to me that he's your demon, not mine."

"His name is Zephariel," her mother said, letting the word settle like a spell "And he's not to be messed with. He's an angel, not a demon, but not the kind you're thinking of."

Before Sera could respond, her phone buzzed—midnight. Mack ceremoniously turned toward her, setting the martini in front of her with a grin.

"Happy birthday!" he said, voice bright with sincerity. "On the house."

The smile softened his entire face, made him look ten years younger, gentler somehow. The usual scowl lines around his eyes seemed less like wear and more like echoes. Like he had his own demons but never the space to voice them. Always listening to someone else's issues. Just like me, she thought.

Sera grinned. "Well, that kind of defeats the purpose of buying my first drink."

"You ordered it. I poured it. That's what really matters," Mack said, playfully.

He had a point.

She bowed her head slightly. "And I thank you."

"You are most welcomed." His eyes flicked toward her mother. "Another drink? Or maybe some water?"

"I need to toast with my daughter," her mother said, slurping the last of her martini and nudging the empty glass across the bar.

In less than a minute, Mack set another drink in front of her, this time with an ice water along side it.

Her mother sighed and turned toward her again, though her gaze still didn't quite meet Sera's.

"To the most beautiful daughter in the world," she said softly. "Happy birthday, darling."

Sera lifted her martini, careful not to spill. "Thank you," she said, and they tapped glasses.

She took a sip—her first legal sip—and smiled. It was perfect. Not too sweet. Elegant. Made her feel like a '60s movie star in the most sophisticated way. Definitely her drink.

She was ready to tell her mom everything—the new book deal, the steady royalty checks, the apartment hunting, her new office over the bar. Her writing was finally paying off. She was building something real.

But her mother cut in first.

"Can you listen to me? Really listen?" she asked. "I have something important to tell you, before it's too late."

Sera hesitated. "It's my birthday. Can this wait? I've got news I want to share."

Her mother reached across the bar and took Sera's free hand. Her grip was firmer now. Grounded.

"This is important, Seraphina."

Sera sighed. "I wish you'd call me Sera. Like everyone else."

"I'm not everyone else," her mother replied. "And you need to prepare. He's coming."

"You make him sound dangerous. But you say he's an angel. Aren't they supposed to be protective?"

She casually sipped her drink and silently prayed that her mother would stop. For the past year, she'd been harping on an angel-demon hybrid coming into Sera's life. Something to do with a family curse from seven generations ago. It was a whacky tale but her mother was prone to strange stories and possibly hallucinations.

Sera had tried more than once to get her mother evaluated, even considered having her sanctioned. But in the end, her mother would cry, play the victim and twist guilt into chains.

Sometimes it was easier to pretend along than fight. Her mother was spiraling, and these moments usually passed faster when Sera didn't resist them.

"Fine," Sera said. "Go ahead. Say what you need to say. And then it's my turn."

Her mother's posture collapsed slightly, like a threatened bug, curling into a ball, exposing its outer armor.

"I didn't know it would come to this," she said as she twisted in her stool to squarely face Sera. "I never wanted you in the crosshairs. But here we are. And first and foremost, I'm sorry."

She pulled Sera's hand to her chest, just over her heart.

Sera felt the impulse to pull away. Her instinct was to recoil from the delusion—but there were tears in her mother's eyes. Real ones. Or so they seemed. She never could tell one hundred percent with her mother.

"Sorry for what?" Another sip of courage, followed by a gulp. She should have known better than to agree to meet with her mother, especially when alcohol was involved.

"I rejected him. I passed him on to you. He will soon be your burden. I should have stopped him. But I couldn't." Her mother released Sera's hand and stared into her drink like it was a crystal ball. "I guess if truth be told, he rejected me. He had his sights on you the moment you were born. I wasn't good enough. Just like I wasn't good enough for your father."

Sera shook her head, her heart beginning to race. "I don't understand. And I really wanted tonight to just be... normal." For a split second Sera wished it had been her mother, not her father, who died all those years ago. He was so supportive and not self-consumed with mental illness.

Her mother didn't back off. Her voice rose, sharp and bright with panic. "You have to prepare for Zephariel! Haven't you been listening?"

"Mom, not now. Keep your voice down. Please." Her cheeks tightened in a grimace.

Heads were starting to turn. Of course. Her mother always got what she wanted—attention. Like a big neon sign that flashed Look at me; I'm important.

"I know you think I'm crazy," her mother whispered. "Maybe I am. But he's real. And he's coming for you because I wasn't what he wanted. I tried. Believe me, I tried. But he dismissed me like I was garbage."

Suddenly she dropped her head to the bar, folding her arms and sobbing into the crook of her elbow.

"Mom, stop," Sera pleaded. "Please." She tried to wrestle her mother from her morbid, drunken position, but was met with a tremendous resistance.

She mumbled something about a fallen angel. Something about curses and love. A string of words that barely formed a coherent sound, muffled into her sweater. Sera downed the rest of her drink, trying to ground herself while Mack quietly replaced her mother's cocktail with black coffee. Sera held up her glass to indicate she was ready, really ready for another.

Eventually the sobs faded. Her mother lifted her head and winced, once again avoiding eye contact.

After a few minutes of sniffling and sipping her coffee, she apologized for ruining Sera's birthday. "I'm so selfish and stupid," she groaned.

Sera felt the familiar pangs of guilt and need to comfort her mother. "It's okay," she said half-heartedly, placing a hand on her mother's back.

She straightened her posture and swiped at her damp eyes. She forced a smile at Sera and said, "why don't you tell me what's going on with you?"

For almost half an hour, Sera updated her mother, although she focused on something just beyond her daughter every few seconds. Sera noticed Mack looking in the same direction as her mother and then back. He shrugged – there was nothing there. No one was there.

The night crowd was dwindling and last call only produced a handful of drink orders. Sera nodded to Mack that she would indulge in one more before she hailed a ride home to her apartment that she shared with three roommates. As much as she enjoyed them, she often felt like a fifth wheel. They were content to live out their lives like they were an episode of Friends, only they were in Dumbo, not the Village.

Her mother stood, stretched, and made a show of being perfectly fine. "I should get home before it gets any later. Maybe I'll see you in a few hours. I have a present for you." She smiled, crinkling her red rimmed eyes. "It's not every day your baby turns twenty-one."

Sera lied to herself—She's walking straight. Talking clearly. She'll be okay. Just a bad night. Not the worst one.

They hugged. Made promises to connect later that day. Sera even thanked her, pretended her mother had paid for the birthday drinks. It was easier that way. She stayed at the bar, a lonely celebration as her mother drove back toward the suburbs. She hadn't invited any friends, thinking she and her mother could have a genuine good night together. When would she ever learn, that could never happen.

Later at home, her roommates were waiting with cheap champagne and loud cheers. Sera was smiling when she opened the door, even though it was a forced one.

And then her phone rang.

One vehicle. One person. One fatality.

Her mother didn't make it home.