“Happy Birthday, babe.” Tiffany murmured absently as she
greeted Jack at the door. She kissed his cheek hurriedly, leaving a smear of
brutal red behind. Jack stepped inside the apartment, shutting the winter snow
out behind him.
“You ready to go?” He asked.
“In just one minute! What time are we supposed to meet
them?” Tiffany clip-clopped around, wearing one shoe and carrying the other under
an arm as she looped earrings through her ears.
“In about one minute.” He replied, watching as she dashed
back and forth between her room and the small kitchen. “Can I do anything to
help?”
“Oh you sweet man, no. Don’t you do a thing. It’s your
birthday, remember? I’ll be just one
minute. Oh, you could put Sasha in her bed for me. And would you mind checking to
make sure I got the stove off?” She slammed the bathroom door behind her. Jack
smiled weakly and looked around. The beloved Sasha was crouching, panther-like,
on the arm of Tiffany’s white leather sofa. Her thick, fluffy coat rose as he
approached, and she hissed, having no liking for her mistress’ friend.
“Yeah, nice to see you too, Sasha.” Jack muttered with a
sarcastic twist of his mouth. “Come on now, and hold still.” The cat made a
swipe for his face, but missed. Jack grinned and shoved it in its cage. He turned
to the pot of pasta that was boiling over on the stove and transferred it to
the refrigerator.
“Alright, I’m all set. Hurry up, Jack, or Linda will get
huffy and leave.” Tiffany clicked out of the bathroom wearing both shoes and
dripping in flashy beads. She scowled, pulling at his arm.” They hurried out
into the cold, November night. Tiffany talked unceasingly about her work at the
firm, this client or that having thrown a tantrum about her bill, or the
settlement, and endless other legal problems. Sometimes he thought that she got
more fun out of complaining than she did out of her many successes. At the
restaurant, Linda and Josh Melzo were already in a booth and sipping their
water in stony silence. “Oh, what now, you two?” Tiffany joked. “Linda, if you
ever get sense enough to leave him, I’ll represent you in court and I’ll give
you a discount.” Jack flushed hotly, embarrassed by her crass behavior. He said
nothing. Josh said nothing. Linda said nothing, and Tiffany talked endlessly on
the same subjects that she had already exhausted on the drive there. Jack found
himself wanting to doze off. His head swam with worries of his own, and the
business of birthdays didn’t help much. He felt suddenly older, as if his life
was slipping away before his eyes, leaving him watching helplessly from the
sidelines. He felt that he wasn’t getting enough out of his life. Where was happiness,
usefulness, honor, family? Love?
He looked at his girlfriend and sighed. How many birthdays
had he known her for?
As if reading his thoughts, Josh suddenly spoke up, “Well,
Jack, congratulations on another successful year of life. How old are you now? All
set for retirement?” He jabbed his friend in the ribs and laughed, overly-cheerful.
Linda glared.
“You’re not funny Josh. Stop trying to be. How old are
you really, Jack?” She asked, twirling her marinara-coated noodles around a
silver fork.
“Thirty-two. Or I will be, in a couple hours.” He replied
softly.
“Thirty-two. Wow. And already a success by anyone’s
standards.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Jack murmured, laughing.
“Well, some people are hard to please.” Josh muttered,
pointedly looking at his wife. Linda burst into tears and pushed her way out of
the booth. Tiffany sighed, and went after her with a now-look-what-you-did glance behind her.
Jack boxed up his bruschetta. Birthday number 32 was
officially over.
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