FIVE YEARS EARLIER
My brothers and I race downstairs first thing on Saturday morning, elbowing each other out of the way as we fight to be the first to burst into Mom and Dad’s bedroom. In unison, we sing out, “Happy birthday, Dad!”
They’re both already awake. Mom is sitting in front of her dresser, applying her makeup, and Dad is pulling on a T-shirt. It’s the weekend, so neither of them have work today. The sun is streaming into the room and the smell of coffee is in the air.
“You guys are up early!” he says as he turns around to look at us with a beaming smile on his face. Chase runs over to give him a hug, and Dad crouches down to draw him into his arms. Jamie joins them, but I don’t. I linger by the door instead, watching their embrace.
“Are you going to turn gray now?” Chase asks.
“I sure hope not for another twenty years!” Dad says, running both his hands through his thick, black hair as he straightens back up again.
“I hope not too!” Mom jokes. She gets up from her dresser and walks over, squeezing Dad’s shoulder as he flashes her an indignant look. “I’m just kidding, Peter. I’m sure you’ll look just as charming when you’re gray.” She kisses his jaw, and then throws her arms around Jamie and Chase’s shoulders. “Now who’s hungry? There’s bacon! Dad’s favorite.”
As she guides them out of the room and toward the kitchen, they all brush past me, but I don’t follow. I stay with Dad instead as silence falls over us. “Feliz cumpleaños,” I tell him. Happy birthday. I know he’ll appreciate that, and I smile at him too. It’s been two weeks now since he made his promise. It’s been two weeks now since he’s kept it.
His gaze meets mine, gentle and happy. “Gracias,” he murmurs as a grin lights up his face. He loves it when I speak Spanish without him having to prompt me first. He’s been trying to teach Jamie and Chase too, but they just aren’t picking it up as quickly as I did. “You don’t think I’m old, right?” Dad asks, teasingly raising an eyebrow as he walks over.
“No,” I say. “Not yet.”
“But I’m now officially halfway to sixty!”
We both laugh and he spins me around, places both his hands on my shoulders and walks me through to the kitchen. Mom has the TV on and there’s bacon cooking on a skillet, and she is swinging her hips back and forth, humming as she pours two cups of coffee. Chase is drumming at the table with two spoons, and Jamie is chugging milk from the carton. Gross.
“Open up your cards,” Mom says as she turns around and slides a cup of coffee into Dad’s hand. She takes a sip of her own and watches us all with a sparkle in her eye as Dad and I sit down at the table, her hand resting on the back of Dad’s chair.
There’s a stack of cards on the table from us, from relatives, from friends. There’s also some gifts. Mom picked them out on our behalf, and she picked out the cards too. We signed them late last night.
“Open mine first,” Chase says eagerly, swiping one of the envelopes from the pile and thrusting it into Dad’s hands, almost knocking his coffee over.
“Sure,” Dad says, rolling his eyes. He sets the cup down on the table and opens Chase’s card, then Jamie’s, then mine. I watch him closely as his eyes run over the message I wrote. It’s short and it’s simple and it’s Spanish.
I wrote: Feliz cumpleaños! Te amo, Papá.
Dad glances up from the card. The smile he gives me is wide and sincere, reaching his eyes, lightening them. My cheeks flush with color and I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. Maybe it’s because I mean it for once. Maybe I’m not just saying it to keep him happy. I can’t look at him now, so I reach for the orange juice and pour myself a glass.
“I have something to tell you,” Mom tells Dad as he begins to open her card. He pauses, the envelope half torn in his hands, and glances curiously up at her. She leans over his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him from behind, and she buries her face into the crook of his neck. “We . . .” she murmurs, “are going to Vegas. Next weekend. Just us two, baby. Happy birthday.” She plants a kiss just below his ear.
“Vegas?” Dad repeats, his eyes widening. The pitch of his voice always increases when he’s surprised, and he reaches for Mom’s hands as he tilts his head back to look up at her. She’s still leaning over him, still grinning. Dad is blinking fast. “Ella, really? You didn’t . . . You didn’t need to do that.” He puckers his lips at her and she leans down to kiss him again, upside down, and he squeezes her hands. “You’re amazing.”
“Why can’t we come?” Jamie asks. He glares across the table at Mom and Dad, but they’re too busy smiling back at one another that I don’t even think they notice. I love how deeply they love each other.
“Because Vegas is very much twenty-one and over,” Mom tells him with a laugh, finally tearing her eyes away from Dad. She glances at Jamie, then me, then Chase. “Sorry, guys, but you’ll be staying with your grandparents next weekend.”
“How about,” Dad says, “we all do something fun today first? Starting with ice cream.”
Chase releases a gasp of excitement and he looks at me, his smile young and innocent, half his teeth missing. I smile back at him. Dad hasn’t taken us out for ice cream in forever. It means he’s happy. We’re happy. I’m happy.