Happy Birthday to You (Birthday Trilogy, Book 3)

by Brian Rowe

  “Story of our lives,” Liesel added.

  “My life,” I said. “And now everybody’s life.”

  “But they’re not going backward. They’re going…”

  “Forward.”

  The woman next to Liesel woke up and wiped the bottom of her chin. “Has the movie started yet?” she asked.

  Liesel just shook her head. “No. It’s starting right now, actually.”

  “Anything good?” the woman asked.

  “The main character dies in the end,” Liesel said. “It’s sad… tragic…”

  “Oh, my word,” the woman said, closing her eyes. “I hate stories with unhappy endings. I’m going back to sleep.”

  Ten seconds later, she was snoring.

  I stayed close to Liesel for the rest of the flight, hoping that we would touch down in San Francisco sooner rather than later. We would then have a short one-hour flight from San Francisco to Reno, and Liesel and I could start focusing on our big, scary adventure.

  I turned back and looked at my family. My mom was reading a magazine, and my dad and Kimber were both sleeping soundly.

  I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  I don’t want to say goodbye.

  COACH WELSH

  The temperature was reaching ninety-nine degrees when Theodore Welsh exited his two-bedroom home on the corner of Kietzke and Vassar to go for a brief jog before dinner. Standing a massive six-foot-six, and weighing nearly three hundred pounds, Theodore typically found it both easier and more enjoyable to use elliptical machines at his local gym than to go for a strenuous run in the heat. But there was something he loved about running outside; it was a passion ingrained inside of him since his track school days at Caughlin Ranch High way back forty-something years ago.

  Known more as Coach than as Theodore around the high school campus, he always thought of himself as a misunderstood man who many believed to be nothing more than an egotistical jerk. He had a tough personality to deal with; he knew that. On the court, he was the scariest man on the planet, not only because of his booming voice and sheer height, but because of his will to win, every time out. He now had enjoyed two straight years of winning the State Championship, and he was ready for a third. He had been coaching basketball for nearly sixteen years, and this had been his first time enjoying two straight wins in a row. He didn’t want the momentum to stop.

  As he started running down Kietzke, he thought about how much flack he would receive if any of his students found out about his true love—writing poetry. He didn’t get much of his writing published, and when he did, he published it under his pen name—Thomas Winters—but it was something that gave him creative and mental clarity every morning before his busy day began. He would often wake up as early as 4 A.M., read poetry for an hour or so, and then sit down at his desk in the corner of his bedroom and write. A lot of his material he threw away in the trash. Some of it he put away in a folder to come back to later. There were pieces he had been working on for weeks, months, even years—in fact, he had been working for over five years on a piece about his nephew Joey, who had died in the early 2000’s in a tragic car wreck. He loved the work, and it gave him a chance to distance himself from the stress of his job.

  Theodore was lost in thought as he started running across an intersection, not recognizing that he had just missed the light to cross. A truck started speeding toward him.

  “Whoa!” Theodore shouted as the truck driver slammed on his brakes and promptly stopped just a few feet from his face. Theodore gasped and tried to catch his breath.

  “Watch where you’re going, you jerk!” the driver shouted, as he backed up a few yards, and then swerved around him.

  Theodore found a bench to sit on at the other side of the intersection. His heart was racing, and he could feel his head pounding. He’d only been running for fifteen minutes, but he could tell his sixty-five-year-old heart couldn’t take all of this arduous exercise any longer. He stood up, headed back toward the intersection, and decided he would just walk home.

  “You’ve got a busy week ahead,” he said to himself. “Let’s not tire yourself out, Coach.”

  This time he made sure it was safe to cross before he started walking, and he was happy to reach the other side of the intersection without facing a premature death.

  He allowed himself to complete a half jog in the last mile home, and when he arrived at his house, he had sweat stains on his forehead, his cheeks, under his armpits, and down his back. His dog Eddie greeted him at the door, and he made his way into the shower for a quick rinse.

  At 6:00 Theodore made himself a light dinner—half a barbecued chicken breast with some buttered broccoli. He sipped on some of his favorite beer—the strong and rich Imperial Stout—and enjoyed the newest issue of Poets & Writers Magazine.

  At 6:30 he sat down on his couch and turned on the TV. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to watch a movie or the local news. He decided on the news for now, and then maybe at 7:00 he’d start a movie. He wanted a comedy. Something with Will Ferrell, or Jim Carrey maybe. He didn’t hate Ben Stiller, but he preferred Will or Jim. He saw that something goofy with Will Ferrell was starting at 7:15 on HBO, so he decided he’d check that one out.

  Before he changed the channel, he noticed that the reporter on the local Channel 2 news was saying something about babies growing at a rapid rate around Reno. But Theodore didn’t pay much attention to it. By the time he had settled in on the couch, his eyelids had already started shutting tight.

  By 6:45 Theodore Welsh was asleep.

  His heart gave out five minutes later.

  3.

  The house was ominously dark when we returned a few minutes after midnight. The alarm hadn’t been set, which agitated my dad, but everyone mostly kept to themselves as they brought all the luggage into their appropriate bedrooms.

  Kimber looked about ready to pass out as she headed downstairs to her bedroom. My mom started checking messages on the answering machine as my dad yawned and headed upstairs. It had been a long day for everybody. It was time to get some sleep.

  But not for Liesel and me. While I had assumed we’d be taking off in the morning, to wherever Liesel thought we should go, she told me we had to leave as soon as my family headed to bed. There was no time to rest and relax. She said we had a long drive ahead of us, and that it was best to leave now. I was barely able to keep my eyes open, but thankfully Liesel had gotten plenty of sleep on the plane and looked wired enough to skip sleep for a whole week.

  Liesel and I left our luggage in the car, telling my mom we would bring it in in the morning. We had to take in our cosmetic bags just so no one would suspect we were skipping town, but we both decided it illogical to have to bring in our heavy suitcases and then bring them right back out again a half hour later.

  As Liesel sat down on my bed and tried calling her grandfather, I headed back upstairs. I knew my parents would be asleep within minutes. I knew that my time with them was limited.

  “You guys need any help unpacking up here?” I asked, entering their bedroom. My mom was already in bed, while I could hear my dad urinating in the bathroom. I sat down on the end of the bed and started petting our dog Cinder, who looked overjoyed to see me.

  “Well that’s really sweet of you, Cam,” my mom said, sitting up in bed and smiling at me. “No, we can handle it. We didn’t have that much.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “OK.”

  I stood up but didn’t leave the room yet. I needed to say good-bye. But I didn’t know how to do it in a way that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

  “Anything else?” my mom asked. “You should get to bed. It’s late.”

  “Yeah, I know…” I stood there for another few seconds. “Mom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I just… I just wanted to say…”

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  My mom scooted toward me, a frown appearing on her f
ace. “Oh my God… Cam… are you OK?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Cuz if something’s happening again…”

  I shook my head. “It’s not. I promise. I swear a thousand times. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  You just have to worry about you. And Dad. And Kimber.

  “Then what…” my mom trailed off.

  “I just… thanks for everything, really. I’m so lucky to have you and Dad around to help me, to support me. You guys are just… you’re the best.”

  “What’s going on?” my dad asked, entering the bedroom and taking a seat on the bed. He had his back turned to me, as he was focused on removing his dirty socks.

  “Nothing,” my mom said. “Cameron’s just being the sweetest son a mother could ever ask for.”

  “What?” my dad asked, finally turning my direction. “What’s he saying?”

  I’m saying good-bye.

  “I’m saying I just really love you both.” I could feel tears coming on. I had to fight them. If I started crying, they would know something was up. And I didn’t want that. “You guys have been really great, and I’m gonna…” I’m gonna miss you. “I’m never gonna forget how much you guys have sacrificed for me, how much you’ve… you know… put up with me. Kimber and I are so very lucky.”

  My mom looked about ready to cry, but my dad appeared suspicious. “What’s this all about, Cam?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “A sentimental moment. That’s all.”

  I walked up to my mom and gave her a big hug. “I love you, Cam,” she said. “Thanks for coming this weekend.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

  I thought I could see a smile on my dad’s face. That gave me enough reason to give him a hug, too. I couldn’t remember a time I had hugged my dad when I wasn’t near death. I put my arms out.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Trying to hug my father,” I said.

  It took him a few seconds, but he warmed up to my hug. He slapped me on the back a few times and nodded.

  “OK,” he said. “Better get to bed now.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Good night.”

  As I exited the room, I turned around one last time. Before my dad turned out the overhead light, I could see the remnants of a tear on his cheek.

  I smiled, closed the door behind me, and headed downstairs.

  I would never see them alive again.

  ---

  When I stepped into my bedroom, I caught Liesel standing in the corner, ominously silent. As I made my way up to her, I could start to hear her crying.

  “Leese?”

  She turned around and wiped tears from her eyes. She tried to act like she hadn’t been sobbing, but it was too late for that. “Hey. Sorry.”

  “What is it?”

  I looked over her shoulder to see that she had been staring at a framed photograph on the edge of my desk of me and my family, taken two years ago on a vacation in Cabo San Lucas. We looked like the happiest family in the world, a family who would never be broken apart by anything or anyone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot about that photo.” She walked over to the bedroom door and turned to me. “Are you ready?”

  I didn’t answer her right away. I too stared at the photo for a moment, trying to remember those joyous, less complicated times. I licked my lips and cracked my neck.

  Don’t cry, Cam. Please don’t cry.

  “Almost,” I said, taking a deep breath and turning around. Liesel and I shared eye contact for a few seconds. She knew what I still had to do.

  She reached her hand out for mine and I embraced it, briefly. I entered the hallway and knocked on Kimber’s door. I didn’t hear a response, but the light was on so I slowly opened it.

  I looked in to see her bed unmade, but Kimber nowhere to be found.

  “Cam?” Her voice echoed down the hallway. I turned around to see her in the bathroom brushing her teeth.

  I nodded and smiled. “Oh, there you are.”

  “What is it?” she asked nonchalantly, not having a clue that it was unlikely we would ever see each other again. Liesel tried to infuse in me the positive thinking that we’d be slaying the evil Hannah within a few days, with nobody in the world having to suffer at all. But that seemed pretty far-fetched, especially since I just discovered Liesel crying over a freaking photo. I could tell she knew the odds of us winning this fight were slim to none. But I remained hopeful. If I didn’t have hope, there’d be nothing left.

  “I just wanted to say goodnight,” I said to Kimber as I reached the doorway.

  She finished brushing her teeth and started wiping her mouth with a towel. “Well… that’s kind of weird.”

  “And I wanted to say how amazing you were in D.C. You’ve really made me a proud older brother.”

  She set her hands on her hips and squinted her eyes at me. “OK, what’s really going on?”

  “Huh?”

  “You rarely go out of your way to say goodnight to me, let alone complement me. What’s up? Please don’t tell me you have another aging problem, Cam. You’ve gone forward and backward. There’s nowhere else for you to go. Except…”

  “Sideways.”

  “Sideways. Exactly.” She paused, chuckled, and said, “What would sideways aging be?”

  “Maybe I could jump back and forth. Like wake up seventy tomorrow, then twenty-two the next day, then three the day after that, then 119 the day after that.”

  “You’d have some aches and pains.”

  “It’d be awkward,” I said.

  “It’d be Hell. Hella funny, that is!”

  She started laughing, and even though her little quip was pretty lame, I laughed along with her. She looked so cute right now, smiling and guffawing in the bright bathroom with the fierce overhead fluorescents shining down on her.

  “Anyway,” she said, “was that all?”

  “That was all.”

  I knew it’d be less suspicious to turn around and head back to my bedroom, but I couldn’t resist. I took a step inside the bathroom and gave Kimber a big, unexpected hug.

  Before I could even recognize my sadness, a tear rolled down my cheek.

  “Cam?” she asked.

  I took a step back and wiped my eyes. “Goodnight, Kimber.”

  “Cam.” There was no smiley face, no chuckling now. She stared at me with an ultra-serious look, like she wanted to viciously attack me. “What the hell is going on?”

  I didn’t tell her what was going on. I couldn’t. I said, “Whatever happens, just know, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  I nodded and stepped out of the bathroom. “Goodnight. I love you.”

  I headed back toward my bedroom when I heard Kimber say, faintly, “I love you, too.”

  My hug for Kimber might have been a surprise, but her hug from behind surprised me most of all. She wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head against my back. I knew she knew something big was coming.

  I turned around and tried to force a smile. “Take care of Mom and Dad for me,” I whispered.

  She nodded. “I will.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. And Kimber…”

  She took a deep breath and smacked her chapped lips together. “What?”

  “You have to trust me, OK? Please trust me.”

  “I will, Cam.”

  When she took a step back, I turned to my left to see Liesel standing in my bedroom doorway. She and Kimber locked eyes for a moment, and then Kimber looked back at me.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I said, taking Liesel’s hand.

  “OK,” Kimber said, and she looked down, with sadness, as Liesel and I passed her.

  I held onto Liesel’s hand as we stepped outside into the night and heard the door lock behind us.

  We grabbed our suitcases from my dad’s car, which I had kept unlocked, and threw them into my
Toyota 4Runner. I pulled the car out onto the street and looked back at the house one last time, until it disappeared behind a bunch of trees.

  I turned to Liesel. “One more stop?”

  “One more stop,” she said. “And then we’re kissing Reno goodbye.”

  ---

  The apartment complex was as dark and ominously quiet as the first time I visited it, when I was a sixty-four-year-old on his way to his senior prom.

  “Grandpa?” Liesel asked as we stepped inside the apartment.

  “Shhh,” I said. “Leese, it’s almost 1 A.M.”

  She just shrugged. “He doesn’t sleep much, don’t worry.”

  “Really? How old is he again?”

  “He’s eighty-four,” she said. She looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. “Well, let’s see. He’d be… eighty-seven now.”

  She turned to me, and I stared at her for a moment. “That’s right, Leese… you’re right—”

  “Grandpa!” Liesel shouted. It was as if it just occurred to her that her aging grandfather could be in trouble. While most everyone we knew sixty and younger wouldn’t be facing problems for at least a week or two, Dom would be in serious trouble in a few days, if not now. “Grandpa! Answer me!”

  She stepped into his bedroom to see his bed made, the room super clean.

  “Is it possible he could—” I started.

  Liesel stepped back into the hallway and turned toward Dom’s bathroom. The door was open a smidge, and she could faintly hear the drip-drip-drip of water dropping down from the showerhead.

  “Oh no…” she said.

  I decided not to follow her inside. As I heard Liesel start sobbing, I backed myself up against the wall behind me, wanting to leave her alone. Her crying told me one thing: Grandpa Dom is dead.

  I figured it had been a heart attack. But it could’ve been anything.

  It’s the first casualty. With Dom’s death, the crisis has now officially begun.

  “Cameron?”

  I leaned my head in. “Yeah?” I whispered.