Happy Birthday

August 5^thhad a big circle on it. His normally blank calendar now looked as if it had a black eye.

                  August 5^this his birthday and though he’s the type not to have cared about any of the previous days that marked his annual passage through life (even the fabled 21^st), this year was different. This year he is having a party. And he’s inviting anyone he’s ever cared about.

                  The invitations went out over a month ago (yes, actual invitations, hand written letters sent via the United States Post Office) and surprise surprise, one, the post office didn’t fuck up and actually delivered the mail to the corresponding delivery location and two, everyone replied back and said they were coming! His mom and dad, his two brothers (even though Mike lives halfway across the world), his ex-wife, his daughter (she’s actually taking a break for once in her studies for her Masters degree), his two best friends from his days in the Air Force, Matt and Justin, and countless others. All told nineteen of his closest friends and family would be coming in later today. He put in the invitation that festivities would begin at 3pm but he already knew his parents would be early and some of his friends would be late. Over the years you just start knowing that an exact time to some people meant ‘make sure your early’ and to some others it meant ‘I’ll get there when I get there’. That’s okay though. He was too happy to care if his old roommate from when he was 22 and barely scraping by enough to pay for rent and groceries (sometimes one or the other) was going to be thirty minutes late or not, or if Sam, his ex boss, showed up fifteen minutes early, there was just too many good people coming today for him to be weighed down by any small annoyance with someone not understanding how appointments worked. Speaking of which, he had his own self made appointment he was running up against. He told himself he’d be out at the grocery store by 10am so as to beat all the other weekend shoppers and with it being close to 930am he had better shake a leg and get moving

                  He went over the inventory again as he packed the bags into his Subaru. Six packs of hot dogs and corresponding number of hot dog rolls? Check (ditto for the hamburgers  and their lovely buns, ha!). Eight bags of various chips? Check. Dips and condiments? Check. Desert? Oh you better believe it. Strawberry shortcake ice cream cake with three additional cartons of ice cream to throw on top of the cake. Oh yes. What else, what else? Ah! What was I thinking! We need booze! You ever go to a party and expect there to be alcohol and there ends up being not a single drop? You look around the room and you swear everyone else is thinking the same but your too timid to go and run off to the nearest liquor store, grab a thirty pack, walk right in that door with it tucked in the crux of your arm as all those other sets of eyes gather close around you as you make your way back to the table and plead with you without actually saying a word that you may so graciously proclaim to the world ‘does anyone want a beer?’. Hahaha well not this party. Not my party!

                  1230pm. Okay. The tables are all set with snacks. The coolers are stuffed with both alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks (plenty of Diet Cokes, your welcome mom). The grill is set to begin its faithful task with just a strike of a match and last but not least the old badminton net has been strung out and tied to the same old trees that Alyssa and I used back when college educated Susan was more interested in the inside of her nose rather than the insides of a book.  God those were good days. Suze was all penned up, inspecting her own anatomy while Alyssa and I use to play till the sun set, sneaking in a a drink or two to make sure we were well hydrated of course. It almost feels like yesterday when Alyssa hit the famous ‘dome shot’. She hit the birdie well into the stratosphere and as I raced to find it somewhere in the blinding light of the sun it came hurtling back to earth as if made with the wings of Icarus. It landed with an audible thumpright on my shaved and sweaty head. I can remember turning to her once it happened and the look on her face is still imprinted in my mind. The way her green eyes swelled, blossoming like a flower, her mouth hanging agape, the sun bouncing colors off her hair that I didn’t even know existed. And then came the laughter. The happiness I heard expelled from her lips was the most wonderful sound I have ever heard. She fell over backwards with laughter, causing Suze to do the same. Wife and daughter laughing at their clumsy man as he joined in on the laughter. That moment encapsulated everything I loved about them. Everything I loved. I loved.

                  2pm. One hour until things get officially underway but I reckon ill be seeing mom and dads beat up old Buick come coughing in pretty soon. Should I kick on the jams? The Party Playlist! Yes, the names not too original but the playlist surely was. Where could you go and find the Four Tops, 2pac, AC/DC, Kool and the Gang and the Wu Tang Clan all in the span of an hour? Here is where! I’ve got all bases covered. Tom Petty not your cup of tea? Don’t worry, Biggies on deck. What, no rap? Cool, Queens steeping in the batter’s box. It took me a few hours to cull through all my music and assemble what I think the crowd will enjoy. Growing up whenever we’d have a party I was usually the one pumping the tunes. I think I have a knack for what people want to hear and an even better knack for knowing what people don’t want to hear. For Christmas Id even make my friends their own private mix cd’s. Xmas Jamz Vol. 1-3! Classics hahaha but you know what, years later when I’m hanging out with some of those same friends guess what I hear coming through that stereo. Classic is in the eye of the beholder.

                  230pm. Music on (Zeppelin baby!). Grill started (hotdogs baby! Haha). Its warm out but not too warm to where sitting outside will be a major issue, plus around 5pm the sun starts to dip behind the tree line anyways which will cool things off. Heck, I think its even suppose to get down into the low 50’s tonight. I might want to get a fire going! How long has it been since the pits been used? Two years? Three? I remember when Mike (that’s my older brother) got so drunk he thought he could outrace the flame. He could wave his hand so fast that he would merely pass through the upper most reaches of the fire with nothing so much as a hair being singed.  ‘Mind over matter little brother’ as he lurched his way to the open flame. Well a few hours later and a few hairs less, matter must have won because the oozing blisters opening up on his hand must have been an indication that his mind didn’t know any better. ‘What the fuck happened to my hand!?’. He’s a principal now. All the way up in Fairbanks (or ‘the real America’ as he says). I don’t think he’ll be getting that reckless this time but once I break out the whiskey, two brothers of Irish descent can get into a whole lot of trouble. I guess we’ll see how much we’ve matured.

                  ‘I love it when you call me Big Poppa’. . .the tunes changed and the first set of dogs are cooked to perfection. 245pm. No one here, yet. Its not a surprise party, shit I was the one that asked people to come but I could see Alyssa and my mom conspiring behind my back ‘listen, we should all come in at the same exact time. Maybe park a little away. Then once 3pm hits we all run out screaming HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOM’. She did that once, back in the good days. Nearly gave me a heart attack as people came pouring out from every nook and cranny there was to hide in. They rushed at me like a horde of Mongols, screaming with laughter as bodies began running at me.  How long ago was that? Twenty, twenty-five years? Time certainly does slip by. Slips away. And it doesn’t come back.

                  835pm. The cake is melted. The sun has set and there’s no fire in the pit. Darkness has spread over the cooked hotdogs, the burnt hamburgers and the raw meat. Bowls of chips stand guard on tables surrounded by chairs that haven’t been pulled out. The Party Playlist has cycled through; the track now is silence. 

                  Sitting under a tree, the one used to tie up one end of the badminton net, he’s holding the only gift he received.

                  Mom and dad couldn’t make it; they’ve been dead for seven years. His brothers couldn’t make it either, he hasn’t spoken to them since Christmas of 2015. Susan wont ever to be able to attend, she was aborted at 13 weeks. Sam, Andrew, Matt and Justin? No. Must have been busy. Same with Alyssa. Probably had a birthday party to plan with her husband and three kids.

                  The cicadas were loud tonight. The firefly’s bright and numerous. He lifted the lid on his self wrapped present and pulled out his gift.

                  He got what he wanted. If there was something to celebrate at least there was that.

                  Happy birthday buddy, he whispered.  And that was the end of his birthdays..