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I go downstairs, where
the whole crew has once
again gathered. Suddenly
everyone starts to sing,
Happy birthday to you…
Even Hunter seems to coo
along. It’s enough to almost
make me feel guilty. Almost.
Leigh gives me a huge hug.
You made it. Happy birthday.
She hands me a big package,
all done up in chartreuse.
[Heather must have chosen
the wrapping paper. It sucks.]
Go on. Open it, urges Leigh.
It’s a leather trench coat,
and not an inexpensive one.
“Way cool! Thanks a ton!”
I slide into it, cinch it up.
You look great, says Scott.
Mom comes over, puts one
hand on each shoulder,
looks me straight in the eyes.
[Dilated—will she notice?]
I w
ant you to know I’m proud of you.
Okay, that has to be a lie.
But it makes me tear up
anyway. “Thanks, Mom.”
[Even if I don’t believe you.]
