No wife in sight.
We arrive at the Tower, and instead of going to the fourth floor for dinner, we take the elevator to the roof top. I ask Bennie what’s going on, but he smirks as he opens the double-doors. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Marshall.”
I step through, and the sound of the world’s worst song floats through the air. A few hundred people stand in suits and dresses, smiling and singing along as if we have all been the best of friends since my birth forty years ago. I glance around the area, taking a deep breath of cool, autumn air. The lights strung from poles are pleasant, the fire in the middle of the floor is warm, throwing hues of blue and green in the mix, and the jazz band in the corner is playing a riveting rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
I glare at my assistant, but then I find my wife standing by Mother’s side, making their way to me pushing a cart with a giant ten-layered cake, and my frustration at a surprise party fades.
The crowd erupts in applause, and I shake my head at the two women approaching me. “Why?” I mouth to Hayden, but I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face at the joy she’s radiating right now. It’s infectious. I shift my eyes to Mother and nod once in appreciation.
“Blow out the candles, Killjoy,” Hayden whispers against my ear before kissing me hello. I oblige, blowing out forty candles.
After smoke rises from the put-out candles, I make a self-effacing joke. “You’re married to an old man, Divine Princess. How does that feel?”
“Like I won the lottery. Because it’s you.”
I wrap my arms around her and kiss her in a deep but appropriate-for-people way. Then I hug Mother. “I’m so glad this isn’t a cross-party dinner.”
We laugh, and then I’m swept into a frenzy of hellos and happy birthdays from the crowd of politicians, businessmen, and media personalities. If Mother and Hayden had to throw a party with a bunch of people I don’t really care to celebrate with, at least they chose the rooftop location of the Tower and decorated it with black and gold colors. There’s a Gatsby feel to the night, and oddly enough, I like it.
An hour later, I want to kick everyone else off the roof and keep the handful of people who I know, without a doubt, are joyful about my birth: Mother, Ren, and Hayden. The three of them stand together around me, and I look each of them in the eyes and try to portray my gratitude. But Hayden’s tilt of the head and curls falling to one side—I love it when her hair is down like this—says my look portrays disdain.
Can someone out there teach me appropriate facial expressions to convey specific desires and emotions?
Ren approaches with a holler and claps me on the back.
“I know I called you old man at thirty, but now that I’m thirty-eight and you’re forty, I’m going to redact the statement and say:Nowyou’re an old man.”
I laugh, pulling Ren into a typical man hug. If guests weren’t around, I’d probably embrace him fully. “You’ll change your mind in two years.”
“Move, Ren. My turn.” Hayden’s arms form a wedge between me and Ren. She shimmies into the middle, and Ren steps away with his hands held high in surrender. “Hi,” she says, looking up at me as she loops her arms around my waist.
“Hello again, my Divine Princess.” I wrap my arms around her shoulders and tug her snug against my body, loving the way her lioness hair fills my face. It smells like yellow daisies and sunshine. This woman has become my warmth in the midst of this frigid world. “Thank you for this wonderful party.”
Her eyebrow quirks. “You really like it? Ruth and I tried to throw something together that would fit your style but also be media-worthy of a future president.”
“You did a great job.” I kiss her forehead, then we reluctantly pull apart. The last couple of months of true marriage has been a beautiful learning curve. Our bickering hasn’t changed, but now we sit down and talk through annoyances and issues instead of reacting to them. Hayden has taught me how to do that. She’s also taught me that it’s okay to enjoy life’s nuances even if they are challenging to me.
“Happy birthday, my son,” Mother says, placing a gentle hand on my arm. Tears form in her eyes, and I wrap her in a tight hug.
“Thank you, Mother. Thank you for all of this.” I close my eyes, memories of hugs with this woman throughout my life flashing across my mind. “You’ve always been here for me. I should be the one throwing you a party today.”
She sniffles. “Nonsense. You’re the light of my world, the only gift I need.” She steps away, and I let my eyes fully examine the three people in front of me—my wife in a stunning little black dress with painted red lips, my mother wearing an emerald-green dress that brings out the warmth in her brown eyes, and my best friend in his snazzy navy-blue Canali suit. Three people who love me and support me. Three people I love and support.
“Happy Birthday, Mr. Marshall,” someone says from behind me. I turn around, pasting a smile on my face when I see Marcus Loveless and Priscilla, hand-in-hand. My smile falls and my stomach sinks, but I recover quickly when Hayden steps up to my side and loops her arm around my waist with a gentle squeeze. I pray a silent prayer that Hayden doesn’t think my reaction has anything to do with me still wanting Priscilla. It doesn’t. It has everything to do with the fact that she was seeing my opponent’s son while we were engaged.
“Thank you,” I say through a forced, gritted smile. “How nice of you two,” I flick my eyes to Priscilla, “to come.”
She softly smiles like this encounter is just as awkward for her. How does Marcus walk up to me nonchalantly, anyway? He knew I was engaged to his fiancée while he wooed her. He knew that I was going to marry the woman he now holds.
I’m glad I didn’t, obviously, but pride is an easily wounded thing that doesn’t forgive quickly.
“Could I steal a moment of your time, Mr. Marshall? My dad wouldn’t approve, especially after having his face plastered everywhere with a bruised eye and broken nose a couple of months ago because of you. Oh, I don’t blame you for what you did; it wasjustified because of what he said about your wife. I’m sure you know his polling has taken a hit because of it. But anyway, I want to run an idea by you. Your app has been extremely successful, and I have a plan for an app that you might want to invest in.” Marcus’s smile is hopeful, and as I look at his blond hair and blue eyes, his build, so similar to my own, I can’t help but see a younger version of myself—a version that was just as hopeful when he started his own app endeavor. And maybe helping him out is a way to stick it to his father.
“Sure. Let’s go grab drinks and chat by the fire.”
He releases a breath and thanks me profusely. I kiss Hayden’s cheek and she whispers, “You got this,” before I walk away with Marcus already beginning to tell me about an app that will enhance COFFEE. I have to admit, I’m intrigued with the young man and his grit and passion.
I glance back while I sip scotch and listen to Marcus. Hayden and Ren are talking, Mother is chatting with a few political action committee donors, and Mr. Sato is talking animatedly on the phone off in a corner, his eyes constantly shifting to his son.
