5 Birthdays - Julian Minerva
38
She sits amid the laughter and solidarity of two families merged into one. Brothers, sisters, parents, grandparents, cousins, children—anybody who matters shows up. Her husband stands behind her with a comforting hand on the back of the chair as her sister brings out the red velvet cake. The side conversations cease and some of the guests make sure to locate and gather all the rowdy kids.
The smell of cream cheese whets her appetite and she cannot contain her grin. “Happy birthday” has been carefully written with pink icing on the top. The candles are lit, everyone sings, and she blows them out. She hugs her little boy tightly and then the cake is served. No fights with the in-laws, no awkward silences, no deep contemplations of her age and the seemingly accelerated speed that time has been moving at lately and how she is easing closer and closer to death every year…just pure excitement. When the guests are all gone, as she and her husband are cleaning up, she leans over and rests her head on his shoulder.
“I am blessed,” she tells him.
39
Another party. Similar turn up. Red velvet cake again. Last night, she tossed and turned in bed with a restless mind, but that’s been forgotten about momentarily. Spirits are relatively high, yet it’s clear some of her husband’s siblings are upset about something.
She decides to ask them what the matter is. They complain about having to spend their precious time here when they should be mourning the death of their aunt. Her husband had never informed her of this. She tells them she had no idea, but that they should really just try to enjoy the company of family here. This sets them off and it turns into a whole thing. Her husband tries to mediate, but eventually gives in and allows his siblings to leave the party. The cake hasn’t even been cut yet.
She is now overwhelmed from all that stress and isolates herself from the rest of the party, refusing to eat or talk until she settles down. Her husband keeps bugging her and making it worse. His voice is a constant pressure on her skull that she just wants to subside. She ends the party early because she can’t take it anymore.
40
The room is very thinned out this time due to last year’s incident. Her sibling-in-laws don’t want to take part in celebrating her anymore, along with a few other family members who sided with them. She tells herself she doesn’t need them, but now she is finding the party pretty unfulfilling.
Things with her husband haven’t been great today. They argued over his unpreparedness for the party, they argued over how she never shows him any affection (that’s been a common one these days), they argued over nitpicks like the way the snack table was set up, and they are currently arguing over how the gift he chose had zero thought put into it.
After the argument, her mom comes and tries to console her with “your father and I used to bicker like that.” Yeah, you still do, she thinks but doesn't say aloud.
41
She doesn’t want a party this year. There’s no point in pretending like everything is all right while she and her husband are in the process of divorce. Her husband doesn’t even realize what day it is. He’s out of the house. Apparently they ran out of peanut butter.
She spends time with her boy, trying to distract him from the scary, confusing concept that is his parents splitting up. He is the only gift she wants. They play with his action figures in an imaginary storyline that only he could understand. The toys are in the midst of a remarkable battle and every ten seconds, the location and the details change dramatically. She tries to keep up but it’s tricky.
“They’re gonna kill each other, Mama! Mama, look, he shot him! Look, they’re in space now!”
The boy asks for some food. She is about to make him a PB & J sandwich when she finds a mostly full jar of peanut butter in the cabinet. She sighs.
The boy eats his sandwich and she watches him without saying a word. She glances at a photo of her husband from many years ago. He is unrecognizable. It was he and her who put this child on the Earth. This child, who is making rocketship sounds with a mouthful of food, is everything and nothing at once.
42
Her son is spending the weekend at his father’s place, so she sits alone at a corner booth in her favorite restaurant with her usual order. It tastes funny today, like a necessary ingredient was neglected and now it’s just bland. By this point, she’s rationalized that her ex-husband was fundamentally different from her from the start and that they simply couldn’t have worked.
She observes the customers around her. There is only one other person by themself, and the rest are either in pairs or groups. She thinks that she must look like a figure in an Edward Hopper painting to any outsiders, then quickly dismisses such a silly notion.
She pours salt and pepper over and over again on her plate to try to add some flavor to the meal, but it isn’t helping. Now the food is so utterly drowned that it’s practically inedible. She doesn’t want it anymore so she waits for the check. It’s been a half hour and the server is still ignoring her. She spends all this time doing nothing but thinking. Her mind screams at her, but she remains unfazed. There is no sign of the waiter, and she wonders if he’s ever going to come or if she’s doomed to sit in this booth for eternity.
She sees the other lonely customer stand up and knock over his glass of water, spilling it on the floor. She instinctively gets up and helps him dry the mess with napkins. The waiter is no help anyway. The customer thanks her and they begin chatting about the neighborhood. He tells her he has an extra movie ticket for tomorrow night and offers it to her. She accepts it.
The waiter finally notices her and brings the check. Despite his poor service, she leaves a solid tip. Then she goes back to her dark, quiet home. She collapses to her knees and wails.
Julian Minerva is a sophomore English major from Queens, NY. In addition to writing, he also makes music under the name Earthican.