A White Birthday

The atmosphere inside the Gatzer & Associates Toy Workshop was normally jovial; hundred of hammerers hammering, gears and joints clicking and clacking, toy testers laughing and shouting and jotting down notes. Now, though, it was dark. On any other evening, the night crew would be slowly arriving and the day crew would be slowly filtering out, leaving for home. Not tonight. Tonight, the only people at the workshop were the Gatzers themselves, and they were upstairs, gathered in the private apartment on top of the manufacturing floor.

Tinny tunes trickled out of a music box on the table in the corner. Colorful lights hung from the walls, casting red and green spotlights to and fro. The Gatzers, in perfect Polar Elf tradition, sung, joked, and made merry, partaking in hot chocolate and peppermint cookies and a rainbow of homemade sweets. With the apartment's seven fireplaces crackling, it was easy to forget that Polyluna was a moon of eternal winter.

It was the Salochin Festival, sure, and that was a cause for celebration on its own, but it was more than that- it was the 17th birthday of the Gatzer family's newest member. A birthday on Salochin was auspicious, truly something to celebrate.

Syldie, the lucky birthday girl, sat with her cheek pressed against the window glass in the guest bedroom, far removed from the festivities both emotionally and physically, eyes aimlessly following snowflakes as they meandered downwards. There was a knock on the door, and she groaned, shaken out of her stupor. Her older sister opened the door before she even had a chance to say, "come in".

"Dad just pulled the cake out of the oven."

"Mom here yet?"

"No," said Daila, "I don't think so, but she'll be here soon-"

"I can wait," spat Syldie.

A response played on Daila's lips, but she seemed to give up, and after a long and awkward moment of silence, she closed the door to the guest bedroom and left Syldie alone. The snow kept on falling. Syldie wasn't truly watching- she was replaying past birthdays, past Salonchins, in her mind, over and over like broken records.

Her mother had always been there before. She had smiled and cut the cake and sung traditional songs along with the rest of the family. Back then, the festival was important enough to make her put her work aside for one day and come celebrate, but apparently it wasn't anymore- now, she was in an important meeting with some bigwig from the Nova Corporation, and she made it a point that she would not be interrupted.

The workshop's financial difficulties had come to a head this year; Syldie was entirely unsure how the other Gatzers managed to put it out of their minds and have fun like nothing was happening. She was enthusiastic about the business- so enthusiastic that the family agreed she'd probably take it over after her mother- and so a pit formed in her stomach whenever she thought about its dwindling profits. It couldn't be helped that there were new competitors, but surely there was something that would turn things around, right? Nothing was ever hopeless. Her mother had said that over and over.

"Syldie," said Daila's muffled voice through the door, "Mom's here!"

Finally- better late than never.

When Syldie made her appearance at the party, everyone who saw her offered a joyful greeting. She tried to respond in kind but found herself feeling stoic. With a false smile plastered on her face, she stepped into the kitchen, where the door to the stairwell hung open and her mother held a cup of hot chocolate.

She wasn't smiling. Her lips were pursed, drawn into a tight horizontal line across her face. Her dour gray three-piece suit and lack of a pointy cap made her stand out like a sore thumb, and the pit in Syldie's stomach returned in full force. That meeting- what was it really about?

"Syldie. There you are. Darling, would you go get your sister and your little brother?"

"What for?" Syldie raised one eyebrow.

"I have some important news to share, but I want to tell the close family first." Her mother's face twisted into something that resembled a smile, but there was a profound emptiness in her eyes.

Syldie thought that the pit in her stomach couldn't possibly get any lower, but she obliged, pulling Daila away from Uncle Adaxon's miniature dance party and then Darut, her little brother, away from the board game station. They met their parents in the guest bedroom, and Mom beckoned Syldie to sit next to her on the bed.

Mom took a deep breath. Dad put his arm around her shoulder. The kids sat, hands folded in their laps, fighting the tense atmosphere and hoping to return to the party room, where it was warmer, soon enough.

"Our financial troubles are over," said Syldie's mom. It should have been good news, but Syldie was suspicious of her tone. There had to be some sort of catch. Miracle solutions were one in a million.

"That's great," said Daila, prompting a sigh from Mom.

"We're selling," said Mom, voice catching in her throat. "We're selling the workshop to Nova."