Happy Birthday to Me

by Brian Rowe

  The dream had come true under not the best circumstances. But it had happened.

  We’re going to State.

  Wesley helped me off the ground. “You OK?”

  “Spectacular,” I said with sarcasm.

  “You did good. And I got it all on film!”

  “Including me falling on my ass?”

  He laughed. “The best moment of the whole game.”

  Wesley helped me to the sidelines. My teammates were still cheering, but I could tell they weren’t receptive to my enthusiasm. That was OK. I was just happy I got to play.

  I glanced to my left to see Ryan kissing Charisma, and I darted my eyes in another direction as fast as I could.

  I tried to keep my mind on the journey ahead, but seeing that quick glimpse of Charisma reminded me of that pesky little dance coming up.

  I turned to my right to see Wesley filming me again.

  “So what do you say, Cameron? You gonna celebrate tonight by hittin’ the town with your teammates?”

  “Actually,” I said, peering up at top of the bleachers, “I had something better in mind.”

  ---

  The extremely late dinner, even by my own teenage standards, was on the table by 10:30, and Mom and Dad sat in front of me. Kimber had eaten earlier and was now in the midst of violin practice. All of her training had paid off, as her mastery of the musical instrument had started showing itself night after night. Lately I’d find myself at home, studying my face in the mirror, reading up on Progeria on the Internet, listening to her music in the background as if it were the soundtrack to my new life.

  “This looks great, honey,” my dad said to my mom, setting his napkin down on his lap.

  I had already inhaled half of the mild but tasty pasta dish when he took his first bite.

  “This is delicious,” he said, turning toward me with a smile. “Wow. Isn’t this nice? The three of us… eating together as a family?”

  He turned his smile toward my mom before he took another bite. He seemed to be in a good mood, too good of a mood.

  What’s wrong with him?

  “Honey,” my mom said to my dad, noticing his weirdly joyful behavior, too, “is everything all right?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m just beside myself. It was a pleasure to watch Cameron play in the game tonight. Wasn’t that exciting? I didn’t think he was going to play, but I’m really glad he did.”

  My mom furrowed her brow, like she was waiting for the other half of the truth.

  “I’m so thrilled for our son,” he continued, turning to me with a bigger smile, one that looked as phony as his behavior. “By the way, how was school today, Cameron? Did you learn anything interesting?”

  He brought his fork down toward his plate, when my mom grabbed the utensil out of his hand.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “What are you—”

  “What’s going on with you, Stephen?” she asked.

  “Nothing! Why?”

  “Oh, that’s bullshit! That’s bullshit and you know it!”

  I started cowering in my seat. I had never heard my mother use that word so forcefully.

  “Honey, calm down,” he said.

  “I’ll calm down when you explain yourself. You gonna act all nice to our son and fool him into going back to get a face lift? Or a brow lift? Or how about a face transplant! You want to give our son a brand new face? Would that make you happy?”

  He looked at me, this time more sympathetic, not forced in the least.

  “OK,” he said. He threw his napkin on the table and brought his elbows down in front of it. He looked at my mother. “Here’s the thing. You know Arthur and Joy Clement, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” my mom said. “I haven’t been in touch with Joy in a while, though. Why?”

  “Yeah, well, Arthur came in today to get some work done to his face. He was in a car accident a few days ago.”

  “Oh God,” she said. “Is he all right?”

  “No, he’s in pretty bad shape. It was a rough accident. He’ll need at least three surgeries to correct the damage done to his nose and chin.”

  “Jesus,” my mom said. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She paused. “But what does that have to do with—”

  “Arthur’s son Jonathan was in the car with him, in the passenger seat. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt.”

  I hung on my father’s every word. Whatever his story entailed, I hadn’t heard my dad open up like this in a long time.

  “Jonathan was a senior at Eldorado High over in Sparks,” he said. “He was Cameron’s age.”

  “Is he all right?” my mom asked.

  “He’s dead.”

  My mom gasped. “Oh my God. How did I not hear about this? I have to call Joy. Oh my God, that’s so horrible.”

  “Jonathan was a great student,” my father said. “He was just accepted to Stanford. Had some of the best scores in his class. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

  My dad looked at me in a way I rarely saw anymore. It was a look of unconditional love.

  “I realized today that I’ve been hiding from Cameron’s condition, not helping. I’ve been so intent on him being perfect and being everything I wasn’t in high school that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be a dad.”

  I started getting choked up. I couldn’t help it.

  “And now,” he continued, “after everything that’s happened, I want to be able to spend as much time with my boy as possible, because…” He turned away from me. He bit his bottom lip and stared down at the table, his eyes welling up with tears. “…because… Cameron… I can’t lose you, too.”

  He put his hand out. I placed my palm on top of his.

  My mother tried to control her tears, but they started spilling out, anyway.

  “I love you, Cameron,” my dad said. “I love you more than anything.”

  It didn’t take me long to answer back. “I love you, too, Dad.”

  Nobody said anything for another minute. We just looked at each other, all of our eyes wet with tears, sharing a moment that could only be described as perfect.

  17. Fifty

  The Odyssey Bookstore sat at the back of the Star Bridges Mall, which also housed a jewelry store, a calendar store, and the Millennium Cinemas, the only decent movie theatre in all of Reno. The charming independent bookstore had a cute café and generous book selection inside, and I found myself going here the last few Saturdays to find some peace of mind and commit myself to as much medical research as I could about my disease.

  “Your latte, sir,” the waiter said. It was Aaron.

  “Hey Aaron. You don’t have to call me sir.”

  He looked different out of his jersey. He wore a goofy, turquoise golf shirt with a pair of tan, neatly ironed slacks. His long black hair, usually hanging down by his shoulders out on the basketball court, was fastened tightly in a ponytail.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said. “I get used to saying it.”

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “Oh, gosh. Two years, I think?”

  “Well it’s good to see you,” I said, bringing my eyes back to my books.

  “You too,” he said with a giant smile. “Is there anything else I can get you? A scone, maybe?”

  “I’m fine for now. Thanks.”

  I thought I made it clear I wanted some privacy, but the guy hovered over me so close I could feel his breath on my face.

  “Thank you, Aaron.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “See you at practice?”

  I nodded.

  “Great. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  I felt like I had aged another year by the time he walked away.

  It wouldn’t surprise me.

  I had aged another year today. The dozens of little changes were apparent in my face. I looked like what my dad would look like ten years from now. My gray hair for the first time started disappearing from the top of my head, only to be replaced as large hairballs in both of my gro
wing ears. While I still looked handsome, for my age I guess, the lines and wrinkles were multiplying at an alarming rate.

  Just one day at a time, Cameron. One day at a time.

  But when time runs out…

  I picked up a couple of books from my giant stack that towered almost six feet high. They all dealt with abnormal diseases, three of which concentrated on Progeria. After reading through five books about it, I found myself fascinated by a disease that I was pretty certain I didn’t have. Progeria was a condition found primarily in young children. Even Werner Syndrome Progeria, which starts manifesting in older teenagers and causes accelerated aging throughout one’s twenties and thirties, didn’t seem right. I wasn’t seeing an odd growth spurt over the span of five or ten years. I was aging a whole year every day. And, weirdest of all, I was feeling healthy, aside from some of the typical aches and pains associated with middle age.

  I couldn’t understand it. I found myself watching films and TV shows to try to find something to make sense of it. I watched all of Jack, that stupid movie starring Robin Williams, where he ages four times faster than normal, eventually looking like a forty-year-old in a ten-year-old’s body. But fiction wasn’t helping me, either.

  What I was suffering was real. And I was running out of options.

  What in the world is doing this to me?

  “Is this seat taken?”

  I looked up to see an adorable redheaded girl, her face buried in a thin paperback book. Her long, luxurious hair fell below her shoulders, and her dark red lipstick brought out the striking blue in her eyes.

  I looked over to see that all the other tables were taken. “Oh, sure, of course you can.”

  “Thanks.”

  I brought my eyes down to one of my books and found myself skimming through a chapter about Otto Werner, a German scientist who was the first to discuss Werner Syndrome. I read for a few seconds, and then brought my head up to take another glance at the girl. She was tall and cute, a slight smirk on her face as she read a book called Willa: A Year and a Day. She looked immersed, not lifting her eyes once over the next few minutes to look at me.

  “That any good?” I finally asked.

  She didn’t appear to hear me at first, but then she smiled and veered her eyes in my direction. “It’s all right.”

  “What does Willa mean? Is that the name of the main character?”

  She laughed and analyzed the cover. “Yeah. Sure it is.” She scooted her chair toward me. “I should ask you how your books are. You’ve got every book in the store on that stack. The poor kid who has to put all those away is just gonna love you.”

  As she talked I felt an odd, surging sense of déjà vu. “Wait a second. I know you, right?”

  She smiled even bigger. “Well I certainly know you. I just don’t know if you remember me.”

  “Do you go to Caughlin Ranch?”

  “I do indeed.”

  I looked into her eyes. That’s when I remembered. “It is you! You were jogging outside my house the other day!”

  She pursed her lips with annoyance, like I had given her the wrong answer. “Was I?”

  “Yeah, it was weird. You looked right up into…” I stopped. I didn’t want to reveal that she had stared up into my window and creeped me out for the rest of that day. “Anyway, I’m sure it was you.”

  She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. A smile formed on her face that seemed more devious than before. She stared at my stack of books for a moment, and then shifted her eyes back to me.

  “So how have things been going?”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, with your illness and everything. I heard about what’s happening to you. It’s so sad. Must be hard now that you’re…”

  “Now that I’m what?”

  “You know. Old.”

  I could sense an underlying of cynicism in her words. “Well it sucks… obviously. Of course it sucks. That’s why I’m here. I’m doing all the reading I can to try to find the source of my problem.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing, right? I mean, when was the last time you actually stepped inside a bookstore to read?”

  I did a double take. She was starting to sound like Mrs. Gordon. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You know… reading. I didn’t really take you for someone who did a lot of that before you started aging.”

  Her tone was now cynical and condescending.

  Who the hell is this girl?

  “Uhh… No, not really. I’ve never been much of a reader.”

  “And how about your girlfriend? Charisma? She left you, didn’t she?”

  “Charisma?”

  “Yeah, as soon as you started changing, she broke up with you. The love of your life, as soon as she found flaws in your appearance, just up and bolted… forever.”

  I threw my hands up. “Whoa. Hey. I’m sorry… did I do something to upset you?”

  She looked agitated, like she was an old girlfriend I couldn’t place. She shifted her eyes to the ground. “You really don’t remember me?”

  “I told you. I saw you jogging.”

  She shook her head and put her book down on the table. “You’ve come to my restaurant probably thirty times in the last year. Uncle Tony’s? On McCarron? I don’t serve you every time, but still…”

  I slapped my hand down against the table. I knew I had recognized her from somewhere else. “That’s it! I’ve been trying to place it ever since you sat down!”

  “Sure you were.”

  “You’re the waitress at Uncle Tony’s! God, I love that place. You guys make the best pizza in Reno, I swear.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said. She looked hurt and disappointed about my inability to recognize her from the restaurant. I brought my arms down against the table and tried to smile at her. “Look…”

  I took her right hand. I could feel a jolt inside of her from the surprise of my gesture. I thought she would rip her hand away, but she didn’t.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t recognize you,” I said. “You look so different, so much prettier without that dumb wardrobe.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, it’s not the most flattering work attire in the universe.”

  I laughed along with her. “And wait, I think I remember your name, actually.”

  “Oh, please, you wouldn’t—”

  “Liesel, right?”

  She looked stunned, like she had just gotten the wind knocked out of her.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s right.” There was a long, drawn-out pause. “You remembered.”

  “Let me guess,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You just think of me as some annoying jock who disrupts your restaurant from time to time with his rowdy group of idiot friends. A sea of retards, I like to call them.”

  “Well…”

  “When was the last time I went to Uncle Tony’s?”

  “A few weeks ago,” she said. “You were with a large group. You guys had just won one of your basketball games.”

  “I see. Was Charisma there?”

  “Yes. You were drunk. And all over her.”

  “Oh God, really? I don’t even remember that night. I bet I was a loud, slobbery mess, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes. You were being really rude and disgusting, actually.”

  “Wow.” I always did love a girl who spoke her mind.

  She turned away from me for a moment. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete idiot. More times than I can count.”

  She finally looked back at me and took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t call you an idiot.”

  “I am. Do you have any idea what this weird disease has done for me? It’s gotten me to finally wake up for the first time and recognize just what a shit I’ve been to so many people. And for what? To make myself feel better? To send my teammates into a laughing fit? I don’t even like most of those guys.”

  I saw Aaron
staring at me from the front counter of the café. I cleared my throat in embarrassment, hoping he hadn’t heard me.

  “Anyway, yeah, I like to think there’s a new me now,” I continued. “I’ve changed. At least I hope I have. You kind of have to when you see your whole life flashing before your eyes, knowing any day it could be over for good.”

  “If you had to guess,” she said, “you know, how old you were today…”

  “Yeah?”

  “…how old would you be?”

  “No guessing,” I said. “I have a little calendar on my phone that tells me. You know how old I am today?” I paused for effect. “I’m fifty.” I posed for her, placing my right hand on my chin. “How do I look?”

  “Fifty?”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. Fifty’s the new seventeen. Didn’t you know that?”

  She didn’t even chuckle at that one. Instead, she stood up, knocking her book to the floor. “Oh, damn it.”

  “Here,” I said, crouching down below the table. “Let me get that for you.”

  I grabbed the paperback, so small it looked like reading for an elementary school student. I handed her the book. “Here you go.” I stared at the title again. From my perspective the L’s in the first word of the title now looked like C’s.

  She grabbed the book from me. “Look… I, uhh… I have to go.”

  “Oh, already?”

  “Yeah, I’ve gotta report to work. You know how it is.”

  “I know how it is.”

  She sighed. She seemed to be having trouble looking at me. “Well, I’ll, uhh… I’ll see you around, I guess.”

  “Yeah, OK.”

  She raced down the steps toward the front of the bookstore and almost tripped in the process.

  That girl’s definitely on somethin’, I thought.

  I glanced back at her one last time to see her walk toward the front entrance.

  What the?

  I was probably just seeing things, but it appeared as if her hands didn’t even touch the door before it swung open. I laughed and assumed that it was just one of those automatic opening doors, the kind that existed at most every store in North America.

  I went back to my books. I still had another four hours of research ahead of me.