Chapter 10 Andrew
CHAPTER TEN
Andrew
I usually keep a pack of Twizzlers in my desk drawer.
Something sweet to get me past my mid-afternoon hump.
Especially when the post-lunch slump hits hard.
But when I slide open my drawer, I’m disappointed to find it’s empty aside from a plastic grocery bag with a crumpled cellophane wrapper and a faded receipt.
The spreadsheets I’ve been staring at since this morning are hazy at this point, hence the need for an afternoon pick-me-up.
The numbers and words start to double while nothing seems to compute in my brain besides a list of incongruent data with little sequence.
It all starts to look like a weird jigsaw puzzle, and that’s when I realize I need a break.
Like a real break, not just a handful of snacks while the shallow imprint on my chair continues to deepen and abrade from my deeply seated ass.
The financial models I’ve been working on, calculating expenses and revenue growth, can wait a little longer while I go on a search for some sweets, as long as I don’t get any interruptions from Mr. Sheridan with more servile tasks.
Though I’m not completely out of the woods quite yet with another two hours until I’m off work.
I’m about to go raid the snack drawer in the breakroom, hoping it’s stocked with the usual array of cookies and candy bars, when a lone cupcake in a plastic container lands in front of my keyboard.
“Happy birthday.”
Olive hovers over me, her elbows perched on the ledge of my cubicle, and she’s looking down at me with an expectant smile. I smell something sweet, like vanilla and buttercream, seep through the cracks of her surprise.
“How’d you know it’s my birthday?”
She shrugs, a modest smile on her face. “Company calendar.”
I take the cupcake in my hands, noticing a small round “happy birthday” adornment atop the frosting and sprinkles. “Thank you.”
“That little happy birthday topper’s also a ring,” she informs me.
Olive walks away, looking over her shoulder with a small departure salute, and I dig in. Just as I’ve peeled back the paper liner of the cupcake, ready to enjoy the red velvet cake smothered in white frosting, my phone rings. It’s Teeny.
“Hello?” I answer, eyeing my cupcake with a forlorn look, my stomach responding with a low rumble.
“Happy birthday!”
A smile wipes away my hunger pang. “Thank you.”
“Any plans?”
“Well, I was about to dig into this company-issued birthday cupcake, but you called.”
“I meant for dinner, smartass,” she reiterates, her tone flat yet playful.
“I have some plans with my friends, but that’s about it.” I haven’t seen my friends in a few months, since they live over an hour away from me, so we decided to meet up for dinner to celebrate my birthday. While I insisted it wasn’t something worth a big fanfare, it’s an excuse for us to catch up.
“You aren’t going to Mom’s?”
“I’ll see her this weekend at your party,” I answer.
“It’s your party, not mine,” she corrects. And she’s semi-correct. It’s a weekend bash at her place. An over-the-top celebration with cake, music, and probably something else extravagant considering Teeny and her husband, Everett, are organizing it.
“Okay, fine. Mine and Sadie’s.” Another excuse for Teeny to go all out in the party planning sector of her entertaining needs.
It’s her daughter, Sadie’s, birthday too.
With the convenience of our birthdays being just a few days apart, celebrations are usually combined.
As was the birthday I celebrated over a decade ago at a trampoline park complete with balloon animals and pepperoni pizza. Fun times.
“But call Mom,” she firmly instructs. “You know she’ll be upset if you don’t call her on your birthday.”
“I already did,” I tell her smugly, remembering my call with her as I drove into work. It ended with her tearful voice telling me the last of her babies is now officially in their thirties, making me feel like I’m a toddler again.
“Good,” she answers proudly. “So, I called for another reason.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“This weekend, any special requests?”
“Whatever Sadie wants, I’m okay with.” One of the best parts of having a birthday a mere two days before the first grandchild of the family is that a lot of the attention tends to shift to Sadie.
I can fall into the shadows and let a lot of the decisions surround Sadie’s needs while having the luxury of avoiding any unwanted attention, an added plus after the first birthday debacle where I was left wearing a pink party hat, and the magician made a dove appear from my shirt pocket.
It also didn’t help when a fat blob of bird poop landed on my knee.
“So, you’re okay with a DJ, a photobooth, and karaoke?”
“That’s what Sadie wants?” This sounds even more over-the-top than any birthday before.
But I guess it’s not every year Teeny’s daughter turns sixteen.
It could also be the added benefit of Teeny’s more recent living quarters and, even more likely, her attentive new husband.
To say that he spoils Teeny and Sadie would be an understatement.
While Teeny has him wrapped around her tiny finger, Sadie has her stepdad wrapped around her own.
Two persistent strings he responds to with the smallest of tugs.
“Well, your niece is tenacious.”
“Open bar?” I guess if Sadie’s making demands, I can tack on one of mine.
“Everett’s taking care of that,” she answers. Of course he is.
“That’s about it then. As long as there’s food, I’m happy.”
“Done!” she exclaims. “So, I’ll see you Saturday?”
I pause, tempting myself into bringing up a topic that I’ve never brought up to my sister. “Hey, uh…”
“What’s up? You think of something else?”
“No, it’s not that,” I answer before tentatively asking, “How’s Grace?
” I ask her against my better judgment after the curiosity began gnawing at my insides, scratching away at any wall or barricade to remind me I shouldn’t be wondering a single thing about her.
She should be in the deep recesses of my mind, not right at the edge, teasing me with little threats to jump right into the more gratifying fabric of my dreams.
“Grace? Like my Grace?”
I roll my eyes. Her Grace. “Yeah.”
“She’s fine. Why?”
“I ran into her a few weeks ago,” I answer. I can tell her that, right? I don’t need to dive into what that chance run-in led to. “I was just…curious, I guess.”
“Oh, okay.” Her voice trails off, confusion weaving into her dubiously spoken words. “She’s going to be there on Saturday.”
“She is?”
“Of course,” she says, shocked at the thought that her best friend would miss my—er, Sadie’s—birthday. “Seriously, why are you asking?”
She’s catching onto my bluff. I need to cool it. Stop sounding so eager. “I told you, just curious.”
“All right,” she says, not sounding the least bit “all right.”
“Cool.” I guess I do have something to look forward to at my party. “I’ll see you Saturday then.”
The rest of my birthday passed without much of a hitch.
Olive informed me of Mr. Sheridan’s early afternoon departure.
Something about hot yoga and his girlfriend in tight leggings.
Whatever his plans were, it felt like a fortuitous birthday present for me.
I left the office at a reasonable hour for once and prepared for the evening traffic on the I-5 to Orange County.
I told my friends to keep dinner light. Nothing fancy or extravagant.
The last thing I needed was to treat today as if it’s some celebratory event.
It’s just another Wednesday night with the added deed of maneuvering through the late afternoon traffic to see my friends.
Though sitting in bumper-to-bumper congestion wasn’t my ideal after-work activity, I was looking forward to seeing them.
We decided on a quaint hamburger joint, and my friends insisted they be allowed to bring me a birthday cake.
Mainly to satisfy their own sweet tooth cravings, but also so they could spend thirty-two seconds singing Happy Birthday while simultaneously embarrassing me.
“Happy birthday!” Hayley throws her arms around me, Rohan following in her path.
I met Ro in college my sophomore year taking a geography course.
A class that I thought I would ace but ended up struggling through.
That was when Rohan stepped in. He helped me understand the concept of erosion and plate tectonics with an invitation into a local study group.
Our friendship lasted beyond the knowledge of the earth’s atmosphere, all the way to graduation.
I met Hayley a few years ago when she and Ro started dating, and since then, she seems to have joined our little friend group with ease.
“Happy birthday,” Ro adds, sans the over-extended enthusiasm. Just a firm pat on my back and a broad smile.
By their side stands another UCI alumni holding a cake slathered in thick chocolate frosting under a clear plastic dome lid. Jake, Ro’s old roommate from his freshman year, motions a loose salute in my direction, his bold facial hair joining him as if it has a whole personality of its own.
“Those whiskers are growing in pretty well, Jakey,” I comment, gesturing a finger at the sharp ends of his handlebar mustache. “Soon you’re going to look like the Pringles guy.”
“Ha!” he exclaims, the mocking tone in his flat laugh bouncing off the walls. “The birthday boy has jokes.” He lightly punches my gut, making me bow, and we laugh it off as he adds another birthday greeting to the many I’ve received today.
After Olive let the word spread that I am officially over this proverbial hump everyone reaching the grand age of thirty seems to fear, I got a few more greetings throughout the day.
Add to that a few text messages from my brothers and the random acquaintances who send me emails or texts only on special occasions, it’s been a pretty steady flow of birthday wishes.
Except I haven’t gotten one from a specific someone.