“No problem.”
“Call me if there’s an issue.”
“I’m going to a five-year-old’s birthday party. What’s the issue?” he jokes.
Max shuts the door and turns to find his niece’s arms wrapped around my neck as she babbles about the latest adventures her Barbie dolls have been on. My hands rest at my sides, my spine straight. I frown, trying to keep up with his niece’s story. She’s talking about a mile a minute. I’m not used to people touching me.
“AndthenBarbie decided she was going on a camping trip, but she also wanted to take her dog, except they wouldn’t let dogs go camping, so she rode her horse there instead, and she made a campfire, and ate marshmallows, and saw pretty birds, and there were lots of stars, and—”
“All right, pretty girl,” Max laughs, coming over to relieve me. “Let’s give Kellan a break, hm?” Still chuckling, he pulls her into his arms, looking down at me. “Sorry about that. She likes meeting new people. You’re her new best friend.”
“It’s okay,” I say, though the words are stiff in my mouth.
He smiles, as if he knows I’m lying but is going to let us both pretend I’m not. “This is Chloe,” he says. “Chloe, this is my friend and teammate, Kellan.”
Noah,I think for some absurd reason.My name is Noah, and I have no idea how to play soccer. I’m here pretending to be someone else.
The girl smiles the sweetest smile. Two dimples appear on her chubby cheeks. It’s impossible not to smile back.
“Anyway,” Max says, “we’re heading to a birthday party. The offer is open if you want to join, but I totally understand if you bail.”
The words are spoken casually, in the way of friends, yet there’s something in his tone. A tension. It could be my imagination. The tension could be coming fromme, since this isn’t my usual space. But I don’t think it is. Max, I believe, wants me to go to the birthday with him.
Under normal circumstances, I’d head back to my apartment and put a few hours into Miaku. Sometimes I’m up until the early hours of the morning trying to work out another kink or add more layers to the story, the characters. It’s my routine. I’ve been doing it for so long it feels weird to be doing something else.Getting out of the house, as my mother likes to say. She thinks I spend too much time with video games, and maybe she’s right, but it’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t understand. It’s not a hobby. It’s a passion. To not be connected to it at all hours of the day feels off. A missing limb, if you will.
I have to admit though, today has been really nice. Max and I get along surprisingly well. He’s not what I expected from a soccer player. I guess I expected booze and bars, not Zelda and turkey sandwiches.
He’s still waiting for my answer. I look to Chloe, who twirls a piece of her uncle’s hair around her little finger, whispering to herself. Singing, actually.
“If you want company, I can go,” I say, setting aside the controller. The game is paused. It won’t kill me to put it on hold. I’m sure we’ll come back afterward. Maybe he’ll let me play for another few hours, even.
“Really?” His grin is breathtaking. “I don’t want to pressure you, but man, I do not want to go to a kid’s birthday party alone.” His laughter fills the room, deep and joyful, a touch relieved. Its resonance vibrates in my chest, and I look at him again, though differently. The way he’s holding his niece with such care, how there’s no embarrassment about having a small child to care for is surprisingly attractive.
Quietly, I release a slow breath. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’m thinking I need to take care where Max is concerned. I’ll cover for Kellan a few more weeks, but it’s probably best going forward to keep my distance. At the end of the day, I’m not here to make friends. I’m playing a part. Nothing more.
My childhood birthday parties were elegant affairs. String quartet—no joke. Catered food. A relaxed atmosphere, everyone dressed in their Sunday finest. My brothers and I all received the same treatment. Most five-year-olds don’t want a national dance troupe performing on their special day, but then again, most five-year-olds don’t know the difference. I’ve never attended what I would consider a normal birthday party, especially as an adult. And now, two hours after arriving at Chuck E. Cheese with Max and his niece in tow, I hope I never do again.
The place smells like pizza, antiseptic, and baby poop. The floors are sticky with spilled soda, and maybe child pee. Can’t really tell. The only thing louder than the Kidz Bop music is the sound of screaming children, all under the age of ten. On top of that, I’m pretty sure they’ve locked the exit doors. Once you walk in, you don’t walk out. This, I think, is where parents go to die.
Max and I sit at one of the tables in the area reserved for birthday parties. The other side of the building holds the arcade and massive indoor playground. Our table is littered with used paper plates, greasy pizza boxes, and wadded up napkins. The entire evening has been one huge daze.
“How are you doing?” Max asks, with some humor. I think he knows this isn’t my scene. It’s not his scene either, but he has an obligation to his niece, so he’s less out of his element. This is so far out of my element so as to be in a different time zone.
I reach for the water pitcher to refill my water, only to find the water gone. The only thing left is soda, which I don’t drink. Internally, I sigh. “It’s great.”
Max laughs and laughs, his eyes crinkling in one of those smiles that comes from happiness deep down in your soul as he watches Chloe run around the playground. He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. “You’re such a liar. But thanks for being a good sport about it. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh yeah?” The words come easy. Spending two hours with someone in the minefield that is a child’s birthday party brings you closer together. “How so?”
His head snaps toward me, curious. Gauging my tone. Was I serious? Teasing? I’m not entirely sure. It’s this place. It would make anyone go crazy. From the corner of my eye, I spot a mother trying to wrangle her two children into strollers, but they’re both crying, demanding that they stay. Once you enter Chuck E. Cheese, you don’t want to leave. After all, it’s a really cool place to be a kid.
“You can play more Zelda. However long you want. You can come over anytime.”
“Really?” Surprise tinges my voice. It’s a generous offer. And tempting.
As if sensing my consideration, he pushes his agenda a bit further. “I’ll even feed you.”
For some reason, that makes me shake my head. I fight a smile. “Feed me what?”
