Fire Down Below

by Andrea Simonne

  My birthday happens to fall on a Saturday this year, though my party doesn’t start until six o’clock tonight. I’m expected at my parent’s house first and then Ben said he wanted to take me out for lunch downtown.

  Suzy and Lauren already called with Happy Birthday wishes, both of them asking how I’m doing, a slight tinge of worry in their voices, since I’m the first of us to experience the ancient age of thirty-five. I assured them that I’m fine and it’s not as bad as it sounds. They both seem relieved. Suzy doesn’t turn thirty-five until next year and Lauren still has two years to go, so I’m the guinea pig of our group. When Declan calls he does the same thing he did last year. He sings Happy Birthday to me in Irish.

  “Very impressive,” I say when he’s finished. “But how do I know that’s really Irish? Maybe you made it all up.”

  “I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “Now that I think about it, how do I know this whole Irish thing isn’t made up? It could be a ruse to meet women. You probably grew up in Nebraska.”

  “You found me out little lady,” Declan says, twanging his voice, although it sounds more like his nose is stuffed. “I’m nothin’ but a Nebraska cowboy. More than anything I enjoy riding mah’ horse and shooting mah’ pistol.”

  I laugh as I picture Declan wearing a cowboy hat, fumbling with a horse and pistol. The image is more than comical. “Hmm, you must be who you say you are. Nobody could fake an accent that bad.”

  “Hey, I take offense to that. I think my cowboy accent is fairly good.”

  “It might fly over there in Ireland, but trust me, you’re not fooling anybody here.”

  “Shows how much you know. So how is the birthday girl today? You sound as full of piss and vinegar as ever.”

  “Ha.”

  “Thirty-five isn’t so bad. It could be worse.”

  “Yeah right. Someone at work yesterday told me that I look young for my age. Isn’t that sad? I’m so old that the best compliment people feel they can give me is to tell me I look young.”

  “But you do look young.”

  “Don’t say that!” I moan.

  “All right,” Declan says, “I won’t say another word. Women are impossible. It’s like you get insulted no matter what. Even if I’m saying you look good it’s considered an insult.”

  “That’s because we know how to read between the lines. When someone says a woman looks young for her age, what they’re really saying is it’d be better if she were young.”

  “You really are taking this birthday hard, aren’t you?”

  I sigh. “I just have this strange feeling that my shelf life is nearing its expiration date.”

  “Listen, you can’t let other people’s expectations determine how you feel about yourself.”

  “I know. You’re right. It’s not easy swimming against the current though. Let’s change the subject. Are you coming to my party tonight?”

  “Of course. It’s okay if I bring my cousin Paul, right? He flew in a couple days ago and I haven’t been able to spend much time with him. He still has jet lag, but I’m sure he’ll enjoy your dinner.”

  “Sure, bring him. The more the merrier.”

  We talk a little more about how Declan and Sev have signed on three more clients. Apparently their start-up is doing well and they’re planning to hire a couple more software engineers to help with the workload. I’m really pleased for him. It’s inspiring to see someone live their dreams, especially when they’re successful.

  After the call from Declan, I head on over to my parent’s house. Lauren convinced them to drop by tonight for a little while, but I know they prefer to give me my gift and ply me with cake at home. My mom likes parties, but my dad usually prefers quiet evenings with fewer people.

  I park behind another car in their driveway that I recognize as belonging to a couple of their best friends, Marcia and Bill Goodman, whom they’ve known since before I was born. I can hear them talking excitedly when I walk into the house and at first I’m confused thinking it’s about my birthday, but when I find them in the kitchen they’re pouring over maps spread out on the table.

  I stand there for a few seconds before my dad finally notices me.

  “Hey kiddo!” he says, coming over.

  “What’s going on?”

  Everyone looks up. My mom, Marcia, and Bill are all grinning, holding glasses of wine. My parents are drinking wine at eleven o’clock in the morning?

  “We’ve been invited on a cruise to Greece!” my dad tells me. “Bill has managed to get us space on a two-week tour.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Bill says, speaking to everyone and waving around his glass. “This cruise has been booked for months, but a couple of days ago we discovered there were cancellations and our names were at the top of the waiting list.”

  My dad tells me the tour is being led by a top archeologist in Greece and that they’ll be going to an actual dig site. Since his retirement my dad has gotten more interested in both ancient history and archaeology, and being his family originally came from Greece, he’s taken a particular interest in that area.

  He pulls me over to the table and points out all the places they’ll be traveling. “It’s a terrific opportunity,” my dad continues. “The dig is on Crete and as you know that’s where our family comes from!” He beams at me.

  “Here, sit down,” Marcia says, scooting over to make room for me at the table. “Your mother and I were just talking about you. Happy Birthday!”

  “Oh gosh, that’s right—Happy Birthday!” My dad gives me a big hug. My mom gets up and gives me another hug and I smile at everyone, feeling like a five year old again, though not in a bad way.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” My mom asks.

  “No thanks.” My feelings of being five quickly evaporate. Judging by the glow in everyone’s eyes I’m guessing they’ve all had at least a couple glasses already. “So when is the cruise?” I ask sitting down next to Marcia.

  The room grows quiet.

  “Well, that’s the thing,” my dad says uneasily. “We wanted to talk to you about that. It turns out, and it’s the craziest thing, but we’d have to been gone for the holidays.”

  Picking up a croissant from a plate that has a few pastries on it, my stomach reminds me that I haven’t even had breakfast yet. “The holidays?” I ask, taking a bite.

  “Christmas,” my mom says quietly.

  It all makes sense now. She’s saying I’d have to be alone for Christmas. That’s why my dad is so uncomfortable, and that’s why the room has grown silent again as all eyes are on me, measuring my reaction. I feel like a freak. A thirty-five year old woman who doesn’t have a family of her own and has to spend Christmas every year with her mommy and daddy. Marcia and Bill have four daughters, all of them younger than me, and all of them married with kids. They have half a dozen grandchildren, and whenever I see Marcia she’s pulling out a new baby photo, showing me their most recent addition. How did I get into this situation? This is not the life I envisioned for myself when I was a little girl growing up. To my horror I can sense tears threatening to fill my eyes.

  I swallow my bite of croissant, aware that I’m taking too long to respond. “It’s fine,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’ll spend it with Ben and his family. No biggie.”

  My mom is studying me and I know she can see the lie. She knows it’s not fine, but she also knows that I would never deny my dad a once in a lifetime opportunity.

  “I could stay home,” she says. “I don’t really have to go to Greece.”

  “No! Don’t do that. I want you to go. You guys will have a great time.” And I know they will. My mom may not be into history or archeology like my father, but she loves to travel and is quite adventuress. “It’s really okay. Ben and I were talking about skiing at Whistler around the holidays and I’m sure it’ll be fine if I stay with him and his family for Christmas.”

  So there, see? I’m not a loser after all. I am, at least, in
a serious relationship. Ben and I have been dating for almost five months now.

  “Hey,” Marcia leans into me. “I hear you’re having a big birthday dinner tonight. That sounds wonderful.”

  I smile and tell her how nice it was of Lauren and Suzy to throw it for me, and how they’ll be friends there I haven’t seen in ages. My dad gets my birthday present, which turns out to be the latest edition of Photoshop—exactly what I wanted. I thought I’d play around with it using some of the photos I’ve been taking with my camera. Thank you, I tell them both. It’s the perfect gift. My mom brings out the birthday cake she got for me at Bellini’s Bakery. The same German chocolate cake I’ve been having on my birthday since I was a kid. She cuts everyone a slice and as we’re eating, they all go back to talking about their trip. My mom and Marcia debate whether they should take a class to learn some Greek, while my dad and Bill talk about the different Islands they’ll be traveling to.

  I sit there and smile, nodding politely, but inside I feel awful and in truth I can’t wait to leave.

  ***

  Needless to say I have quite a dark cloud hanging over me by the time I meet with Ben. He’s in something of a mood himself and between both our dark clouds we’re practically snarling at each other. He keeps criticizing my driving, telling me I’m driving too slow, but I know this neighborhood and there are always police handing out tickets.

  “You’d know that if you lived here,” I say pointedly.

  When we get on the freeway he tells me I’m driving too close to the car in front of me. I was close for about five seconds while I was changing lanes, I inform him, but that’s it. He complains about it anyway, telling me how legally I’m supposed to leave a three car gap and that he notices I never do that. I finally point out that it’s my birthday and—could you please stop lecturing me? That shuts him up for a few guilty minutes, until we get downtown and are looking for a parking space.

  “You’re never going to find a spot this close to the Market,” he complains. “You should pull into a garage and pay.”

  “No, I have good parking karma. I never use a garage.”

  “I know, but it’s Saturday and packed with tourists.”

  “I always find a spot,” I say stubbornly, circling the block for the third time.

  Ben doesn’t say anything, just sits there silently fuming. I’m determined to find a space on the street. I figure the universe owes me that much. When I drive down 1st Avenue for the sixth time Ben starts ranting.

  “This is ridiculous—do you want to spend all afternoon circling the block? Just pull into a garage!”

  “No,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going to find a spot.”

  I know this has gotten absurd and that I should admit defeat and pay for garage parking, but I can’t do it. I’m on a mission now. A quest. It’s my birthday and I’m going to find the most perfect fucking parking spot if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t care if I’m still out here at midnight. I don’t care if my car runs out of gas and I have to get out and push it down the street.

  When I swing down the block for the eighth time Ben is having a nervous breakdown and even reaches over to take the steering wheel from me.

  “Let go!” I shriek.

  “Right there! Look, there’s a garage with a Free Space sign. Just pull in. You’re never going to find a spot on the street!”

  “YES. I. AM.”

  By the time I begin my tenth circle the veins in his forehead are popping out and he has a crazed look in his eyes. I think he’s going to physically remove me from the driver’s seat.

  And then when all hope seems lost the miracle happens.

  A car pulls out from a parking space right in front of me—and not any old space either. This space is directly in front of Pike’s Place Market—a space so rare, so difficult to obtain, that it’d be easier finding a Unified Field Theory or proof of alien intelligence. I can count the number of times on one hand that I’ve ever gotten one of these primo spaces. Even Ben is stunned into silence.

  I slide my car easily into the spot and then turn to him with a smile. “See, I told you I have good parking karma.”

  He stares at me.

  Once we’re out of the car, he calms down and asks me where I’d like to go for lunch. I tell him about Jane Moon and the necklace that I’m going to buy myself as a birthday present, and that I’d like to go there first.

  “You’re buying yourself a birthday present?”

  “That’s right.”

  He looks uneasy. “Maybe I should get it for you? You shouldn’t have to buy your own birthday present.”

  “No, I want to do this myself. Besides it’s expensive.”

  He shrugs. “How expensive are we talking?”

  “Very expensive, but don’t worry. Like I said, this is a gift to myself.”

  Ben doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but we head down to Jane Moon’s anyway, with me leading the way. The Market smells like fish as usual, but there’s also a mishmash of other smells—vanilla, patchouli, fresh cut flowers. There are a lot of people shopping, so we have to wind our way through the crowd. When we finally get to Jane Moon’s I’m excited. What an indulgence, finally getting myself this gorgeous ruby necklace. I can’t wait to put it on. It’s like a defining moment—buying myself a piece of signature jewelry.

  Jane Moon’s is busier than usual and when I finagle my way to the front of the display case I don’t see my necklace anywhere.

  “Hi,” I say to the girl behind the front counter, who nods at me in recognition. “I’m looking for that Egyptian necklace with the rubies. It’s usually on display in the corner case.”

  “It’s not there?”

  “I don’t see it.”

  She walks over and takes a look, nodding her head. “Jane must have taken it out for cleaning,” she says. “It’s probably in back. Let me check for you.”

  “I plan to buy it. So go ahead and wrap it up.”

  “Good for you!” She smiles. “It’s a beautiful piece. I know you’ve been admiring it for ages. Jane will be so pleased to hear that you’ll be its new owner.”

  I smile back. I’ve met Jane a few times. She’s nice, if not a little eccentric, though that’s hardly surprising for an artist.

  Ben comes over and I explain that they’re bringing the necklace out from the back where it’s being cleaned.

  “Wow, there’s some really crazy prices in here. There are some earrings over there that cost five hundred dollars. They’re not even diamonds or anything. And there’s a necklace that’s almost two grand. Is that how much you’re paying for yours?”

  “Something like that,” I say noncommittally.

  “Don’t you think that’s too expensive?”

  “No, I don’t. You wouldn’t blink an eye at spending that kind of money on mountain climbing gear or snowboarding equipment would you?”

  “Well, no...but that’s different.”

  “Why is it different?”

  He laughs. “Because this is just a little trinket to hang around your neck. Climbing gear is rugged and lasts for years, plus I use it constantly, the same with snowboarding. I’ve had the same board for three years and I’m out there every weekend during the winter.”

  “I plan to wear this necklace for years to come. I’ll probably own it for the rest of my life. Doesn’t that make it worth the price?”

  “Come on, Kate. You’ll wear it a couple of times then throw it in a drawer and forget all about it. I know how you are.”

  “That’s not true!”

  I can’t believe he’s so insulting and I’m ready to tell him how wrong he is, when the salesgirl comes up to us. She has an apologetic expression on her face which I assume is because it’s taking so long, but instead she tells me they no longer have the necklace.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m so sorry. But apparently we’ve sold that piece.”

  I stare at her in shock. “How is that possible?” Though I know
exactly how it’s possible. I never should have waited. I should have bought that necklace ages ago.

  “Apparently it’s been a while since it sold. I could show you some other pieces we have that are similar if you’re interested. They’re really quite lovely.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “That’s all right. Maybe some other time.”

  She nods sympathetically. “I understand.”

  Ben and I walk out into the crowd, him leading the way this time. I feel completely deflated. It’s my birthday and, except for that glorious parking spot, nothing is going right. And now I find out that someone else is going to be wearing my necklace. I know it’s silly and materialistic to be upset about a piece of jewelry, but I can’t help it.

  When we get back out onto the cobblestoned street in front of the Market, Ben asks me how I’m doing.

  “I’m really bummed,” I say, tears once again threatening to fill my eyes. Some birthday—I’ve already almost cried twice.

  “There are other jewelry stores. We can get you a necklace somewhere else if that’s what you really want.”

  I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  He studies me and I know he doesn’t understand. One necklace is like any other to him. What’s all the fuss about? I can tell that’s what he’s thinking. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get me. And then suddenly I have this flashback from years ago, driving in Ben’s car, where I felt exactly as I do now, where I knew with absolute certainty that he doesn’t get me and that he never will. It’s like I’m caught in some sort of endless cycle. The Hindu Wheel of Life, re-living the same mistakes over and over again trying to learn.

  Ben looks over my shoulder. “Hey, I just remembered there’s a juice bar down the street from here. Let’s go get some wheat grass juice.”

  “I don’t want to drink wheat grass juice.”

  “Come on, it’s good for you.”

  He takes my hand, such a rare thing for him to do in public, that I allow him to lead me down the street. We walk down the block searching for the juice bar. Once we find it, he orders juice from some purple-haired girl while I wander over and sit at one of the empty tables. He comes back carrying two large shot glasses.