It all started out pretty good. I was dreaming of steam trains winding their way through tunnels, erupting volcanoes, and other obvious metaphorical images, when I was slowly awakened by a deliciously familiar sensation just below my navel. They say dreams only really last a few seconds, so maybe I was just projecting, my subconscious focusing on all the stimulation in the real world. Very soon I was fully awake and the dream fantasies were quickly replaced by a much more satisfying reality.
After the words, my wife, Penny, turned to me with a smile and said, “Happy birthday, sweeties.” She’s cute that way. I smiled back, panting a little, and gasped out a deep thank you. This particular birthday was not one he had been looking forward to. It was one of the big ones, the ones that end in zero, and there had been too many of them. At least he still could, well, you know.
We had a nice leisurely breakfast at a little mom and pop place not too far from home. It’s the kind of place your doctor warns you about; all those artery-clogging, cholesterol-laden, calorie-packed treats piled too high, smugly daring you to leave something behind. I rose to the challenge, took no prisoners and walked out, full and not feeling the least bit guilty. After all, it was me day.
Then things began to slowly unravel. We were going into town, taking the commuter train because no one in their right mind drives there, even on a special birthday weekend. The plan was to go to the art museum, have lunch, do some shopping, and top it off with a “it’s my birthday dammit” dinner. Our sense of adventure is limitless.
Shortly after boarding the train, Penny called our daughter, Theresa, who lives just north of downtown. She was going to join us for dinner and Penny was calling to set things up. She did not answer the phone, neither landline nor cell. After several tries, still nothing. Worry began to flutter at the edges of Penny’s face. Every time she called and got no answer, she got worse. Panic began to elbow its way in and I felt, as the perceptive fellow that I am, a change in the direction my day was taking.
The cause of all this turmoil had occurred several days before. We had been out of town for a pre-birthday vacation. You don’t want to procrastinate too long when AARP is on your neck, as she has been for some time. We were in Las Vegas of all places. None of us gamble and the idea of gambling on the early bird buffets just scared us. We’ll never be old enough to thatwe said.
We’re mainly looking for the over-the-top shows and maybe a glimpse of COPS filming a new episode. We also thought it would be fun to dine at trendy restaurants with celebrity chefs with slot machines playing in the background. With age comes great wisdom, you know. Also, it was sunny. Most of the time. Except when they got their annual 4″ of rain while we were there. On the plus side though, we were only accosted by a few drunks wanting quarters for the peep shows.
We were sitting in our room, exhausted from yet another great Circque du Soleil show, when the phone rang and a small, shaky voice said, “I’ve been mugged.”
We were, of course, instantly shocked and worried. She was fine, she said, she had not been raped, but she had a head full of ugly bruises, 2 black eyes, a split lip, all the ugly result of a brutal attack. She had fought back, she said, and that was probably what saved her from a worse outcome.
When we got back home and saw her, we asked, “Where’s Theresa?” Her face was unrecognizable like that. There hadn’t been any real damage that she hadn’t healed, but wow. You’re just not ready for something like that. So we hugged each other and we started to cry and we said that everything would be fine, that it would be in a short time. She is a tough woman and this was not going to affect her.
And it was not so. She made a quick recovery, though it took her a while to revisit the place where it happened and get over it. Soon she was back to her old self and was back to wearing high speed urban girl clothes.
Penny was now completely in mom mode and said we had to go over to her house to see why she wasn’t answering the phone %^*&. Penny doesn’t actually say things like %^*&, but that was the intention. I, of course, could not object, even though she was my day and I knew that there was a logical explanation, that everything was fine, just fine. However, towards the north side we went.
At his apartment, there was no answer to our call, naturally, so we had to go find the supermarket to open the door. It took a bit of coaxing (Penny can coax, let me tell you) but she finally relented and let us in. Theresa and Penny were out of it to see our daughter lying in an alley somewhere, or kidnapped, or something equally horrible. Nothing he could say mattered, so I just stood there looking worried and thinking unkind things. Me, being incredibly naive and living in my own fantasy world, knew that she was fine.
The door opened and Theresa walked in, not a care in the world, oblivious to the immense pain and suffering she had caused. Say oh! So she was right! she knew it. She had just gone out and left her cell phone at home, careless and selfish girl that she was. Penny kind of imploded, hugging her and chattering about her dark thoughts. I joined the hug and we slid out, like Mary Tyler Moore and the gang did when Chuckles the Clown died.
So now the day was pretty much over. It was too late to go to the museum and to go shopping and, well, how were we going to go shopping after all that? We killed time for a while and the three of us went out to dinner.
It just so happened that our reservations were at a restaurant where Theresa worked as a server, so everyone knew her well. I had been warned that she would be the center of attention and not me because of her recent trauma and that she should just sit there and behave and nod appreciatively from time to time. It’s fine by me, as long as the whiskey kept coming. All through dinner it was “Birthday Oh Theresa, poor thing, does it still hurt? She really looks so much better, you’re a very brave person” and so on. I silently praised myself for taking the right path and not resenting the attention I was getting, being a great dad and all.
After gorging ourselves on steak, wine, and the obligatory complementary dessert, we left our princess with her court and headed back to the train station. For reasons I still can’t figure out, we were taking the bus. It was full of people and I was standing in the aisle and a beautiful blonde in her early 20s was in the seat across from me. She had the whole package; Silky hair, big blue eyes, long shapely legs. Why she was also on the bus, I don’t know either.
She looked at me and smiled and I smiled back, puffing up a bit. Wow, I thought, I still have it, yes sir. Then she said, “Sir, would you like my seat?”
At that moment, my world and my day just collapsed. I felt like Jimmy Stewart in vertigo Everything began to dissolve and I was looking down on myself. “Sir, would you like my seat?” The nerve of some people. If I had had it with me, I would have crumpled up the last ad I got from AARP and thrown it at him.
So what made this a good day? My daughter survived a horrific stroke and came back stronger than ever, my wife and I can still touch each other so much, I got through another one of those milestone birthdays and the little girl smiled at me. Let’s leave it that way.
