The Birthdays (30 page)

Joe was listening to Daniel talk about his work. Her husband was a man who could hear what a person was really saying and really meaning better than anyone she knew. It was, she thought, a rare talent.

She closed her eyes and listened to the voices of those she loved pool around her.

“I’m just warning you that the weather here is terrible in the winter. All those nor’easters, and snow like you’ve never seen it. And if you’re thinking about buying here one day, the property taxes are outrageous,” Jake said to Hilary, not that she’d ever be organized enough to buy a house here or anywhere else, for that matter. He couldn’t believe that he’d let Liz talk him back into this just now. (“She needs this from you,” she had said, and in the moment, it seemed like the noble thing to do.) Hilary’s eyes drifted around the room as he spoke. Facts and practical advice merely bored her. He wanted to tell her that over a hundred people heeded his advice every day at work. “You’re really going to do this, move here?” he finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Our kids will be able to see their cousin a lot,” Liz said quietly.

“I know, I thought of that too,” Hilary said. She had responded more to Liz than to him this whole weekend. “And since I doubt they’ll have brothers or sisters, I think that’ll be important.”

He craved another glass of wine but there was no more, and anyway, he supposed he’d had enough. “Maybe you’ll meet some great man and get a great job and have some great life here. You never know what kind of things could pop up along the road, the path or whatever of life when it comes to our futures.” He’d meant to sound positive and inspirational, not drunk.

Hilary shrugged.

Liz set her hand on Hilary’s knee and said, “There’s always Alex,” and Hilary shook her head and said, “How about the cake?”

The two rushed off to the kitchen. Would they become good friends, his wife and sister? Would they share their secrets or even talk about him to each other? He shuddered. And who was this Alex? He supposed it wouldn’t be so completely terrible if Liz and his sister became friends. If nothing else, it might make Hilary like him a little more.

Jake turned his attention to Daniel and his father’s discussion of tax laws and was happy to correct them when they bemoaned the new deductions. “No, they haven’t disappeared,” Jake said, and explained the restructuring of the laws, the rationale for the government to withhold a slightly higher percentage on income taxes, but offer breaks on other
deductions. “It’s actually pretty progressive,” he explained. As he continued, he sensed they weren’t quite following what he was saying.

Liz returned to the living room and handed him a glass of water. “Drink this,” she whispered. “No more wine, okay?” His mother sat across from him with a faint grin on her face, her eyes closed. And in the other easy chair, Brenda looked through him, an almost ghostly expression on her face. Jake rose to find a blanket or a magazine, something, anything, to give her.

“I’m thinking of hiring an accountant this year,” Daniel explained, mentioning someone their friends had used who’d saved them thousands the year before. Just as Jake opened his mouth to suggest his own accountant, the lights in the room dimmed and Liz and Hilary drifted in from the kitchen carrying a large white cake ablaze with a ring of candles. Everyone sang “Happy Birthday” and his mother added the harmony as always. Brenda didn’t open her mouth, and Daniel barely made a sound, and at the end of the song, the women stood in a cluster before his father. Everyone watched Joe gather air into his lungs and blow the breath from his body, flattening the tiny flames and turning them to dark strings of smoke.

Jake reached forward and plucked the candles from the cake. He walked into the kitchen and stood against the counter for a moment, willing away a sudden rise of melancholy. He counted to three and thought of happy sights—his bright green lawn, Liz’s sleeping face on the pillow next to his each morning. He closed his eyes and grew a little dizzy, so he opened them, and after the dizziness had abated, after the sadness had ebbed, he walked back into the living room to rejoin his family.

Liz was cutting the cake and Hilary handed each person a slice. Jake imagined this room full of them and their twins and Hilary’s child, three generations of Millers all together. It was a welcome image, a room brimming with energy and chatter, the excitement and bustle of children.

The light outside gradually began to dim, and after they brought their plates into the kitchen and Liz made coffee, Jake led everyone out to the back porch. The seven barely fit here—he would have it extended farther out so it could accommodate them, as well as the twins and Hilary’s child and whoever else might join the family someday. Daniel’s chair occupied at least half of the porch. Liz awkwardly perched on one arm of his chair (
For God’s sake, be careful!
Jake almost said.
We don’t need any more accidents in this family!
) and Hilary sat on the floor on the other side of him. They began a game of fish, the only game everyone knew how to play. Joe dealt the cards and Ellen reminded them of the simple rules.

As they played, Jake kept his eyes on the low waves rolling onto the beach, the rocks tossing in the water and spilling onto the sand. The sun had dipped into the horizon, but some measure of light remained, a muted shade of apricot that seemed almost to rise from the ground. For a short while longer, they could stay out here and still see each other’s expressions—for a short while longer, it would be neither day nor night.

The cards sat in a messy pile on the small wooden table and at one point a few of them lifted into a breeze. Jake stood to grab them before they flew too far. “Ha, got you,” he said. “Now my family’s going nowhere. I’ve got you in my hand.”
He slammed the cards down on the table too hard, and the glass top of the table shook a little.

“At least for now,” his father said, and Ellen grinned at Jake with a strange mix of pride and bewilderment.

Brenda, seated in an Adirondack chair, lifted her knees to her chin. She carefully plucked a card from her hand and set it on the discard pile. Jake watched her face and was struck by the sudden sensation that he might not see her again. He wanted desperately to say something that would endear him to her, as well as to the rest of them. He thought of mentioning the way Daniel first described her after they’d met as “young but only in looks, and funny, and incredibly smart,” or how his own parents had met, how his father had sold his mother’s parents a car just to get to know her, or how he and Liz often talked about wanting to fly the whole family to Disney World one day. But he didn’t know Brenda well enough to sense what would win her over. She’d always remained quietly by Daniel’s side, a little unsure of where or even whether she fit into this family. Perhaps it was her age or her nationality that made her always seem almost like a stranger among them. Or perhaps it was just her desire to remain at a distance from the center of things. Whatever it was, it was a desire Jake didn’t understand at all.

The evening grew darker and it became difficult to see the cards in the waning light. After Daniel had won (Jake had secretly slipped him the strongest hand when it was his turn to deal), everyone headed back inside. But Liz stayed to gather the cards and straighten the chairs, and Jake helped her.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked. He reached out his hand.

Liz took it, moved closer to him and pressed her cheek against his.

Her face felt cool and plush, and he smelled the frosting on her breath. “I love it here,” he said. Without thinking, he reached his hand around her back and pulled her even closer, then slipped his fingers up her shirt and touched the side of her breast. She didn’t wince or swat him away. “This is okay?” he whispered, and she nodded. He wanted no more than this right now. He didn’t want anything more from her at all, and for this he was grateful.

The two stood silently until they could no longer see the ocean and the sky had gone black. Then they turned and went inside.

They’d all said good night to each other and gone off to bed, and now Hilary found herself staring up at the ceiling of her room. Her pillow was too soft. She’d grown sweaty beneath the sheets, but once she tossed them on the floor, she became chilly. After a while she stood and wandered down the hallway and through the living room, where Daniel and Brenda lay on the fold-out sofa. Jake and Liz had insisted they take their bed, but Daniel had said the bigger room would be easier for him to navigate. Hilary looked down at them and wondered whether either was really asleep right now.

She crept past them, carefully pushed open the front door and closed it as quietly as she could behind her. The night was cool but not cold, and she could hear the distant buzz of an airplane as she stood on the front steps in her pajama pants and old T-shirt. After the buzz faded, the only sound she could hear was the waves pushing again and again onto the sand. She made her way down the driveway, cursing to herself as the sharp gravel dug into her feet. Across the street, she
found a tree stump shaped like a chair. She eased herself onto it, shifting over a forked ridge near the side, and remembered the many times she ran away as a kid, when she sat high above her house in those trees. What was it that sent her away in the first place? She looked back at Jake’s dark house, everyone in their beds inside. It had always been the smallest things: her mother’s insistence that she clean her room before going to a friend’s house, Jake’s refusal to let her borrow his calculator. Each no seemed an infringement. She supposed she hadn’t changed all that much. Nothing riled her more than a boss asking her to complete a project differently than she had, or a boyfriend wanting her to drive slower. Such minor requests made her feel sewed inside a tight sheet, and now she wondered why.

A bird squawked down by the shore, and she looked around. The road was a rich auburn, the sky the darkest maroon—everything had taken on warm colors. If a night here could be so hospitable, she thought, if people could leave their cars unlocked, if this Vanessa person was so interesting and welcoming, then this island would indeed make a good home.

She saw a car’s headlights in the distance, and as it approached, she wondered if for some reason it was Alex. But why did she keep thinking of this person who undoubtedly had a girlfriend, or maybe a few? Soon enough he would become just another part of her past. Her future was the baby, herself and an entirely new life.

As the car drew closer and then stopped, she saw to her surprise that it was him. He pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the ignition and stepped out. She was suddenly embarrassed to be sitting outside alone in her pajama pants late at night.

“I had this strange sense that I should check in on you. I just finished up at work,” he said.

“What if I hadn’t been sitting out here? Would you have rung the bell?” She gestured toward the dark house.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Lucky I’m out here, then,” she said. He came closer and sat down on the ground next to her. “Were you on your way to see that girl?”

“What? Who?”

“The girl you work with?” She didn’t want him to have to cover something up.

“No,” he said. “You know what? I’ve been a little worried about you since you came into the store last night.”

“You have?’

He nodded. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s managing, I think.”

“Does it make you scared that, well, something might happen to your baby?”

She smiled. “Not really. Maybe it should. But I guess I’m just not letting myself think that way.”

He wrapped his fingers around her ankle and held on as she swung it in the air. “What happened between us,” he said, “you know, at my place—I’m sorry about that. I really am. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t alone. It wasn’t only your decision.”

“I guess you’re right. But still, I mean, you’re pregnant. You’re, what, six months’ pregnant? And we’d just met? It’s not exactly Boy Scout behavior.”

“Do you do this all the time? Sleep with people you’ve just met?”

“No. Do you?” he asked.

“Every day.” She glanced down at him and smiled. “I enjoyed it, to be honest.” What was the point in lying now?

“You did?”

“I really did.” She rested her hands on her belly.

“Okay,” he said, and let go of her ankle.

“You didn’t? You thought it was too weird.”

“No, I liked it too. I promise. But Hilary, you know, I can be an asshole. I’m completely unreliable. I’m selfish, I tend to leave people in the lurch, and you deserve better than that.”

“Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I get the sense that you’ve said this so many times, it barely means anything to you anymore. You don’t need to break up with me,” she said, and set her hand on his shoulder. “And you don’t need to apologize for sleeping with me. You certainly shouldn’t apologize for that.”

He kicked a pebble onto the road.

“And one more thing, just for good measure. I don’t do this sort of thing all the time either.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“Really?”

He looked up at her, and though she could barely make out his face in the darkness, she thought she detected a smirk. He stood, turned to her and said, “Hi, I’m Alex.”

“Hi, Alex, I’m Hilary.”

“Do you need a ride somewhere? Is that why you’re sitting out here on a tree stump in the middle of the night, Hilary?”

She considered suggesting that they go for a drive and then maybe, just maybe, they’d end up at his place again, but then
she thought of her family just feet away from them, of Daniel and Brenda, of her father, her now-seventy-five-year-old father, and said, “No thanks. I just came out here to clear my mind, and I think I should head back inside now.”

“All right,” he said, and shoved his hands inside his pockets.

“Oh, and I have a bit of news for you,” she said. “I’m going to stay here on Great Salt for a while. I kind of like this place, and my brother offered me his house—well, my sister-in-law did really, but that’s another story.”