Nine
JACK
I’m sure there are still good potential partners out there. But I just haven’t met any yet.
—SOLO FEBRUARY CHALLENGE
My older brother, Marc, greets me at Allie’s front door. I hand him three big glittery pink gift bags with balloons attached, while I juggle the two huge cake boxes.
“Did you buy the entire party store?” Marc asks me, frowning, even as I free a single hand to give his a shake. I grip it hard, reminding him I’m not Piggy Jack anymore. He grips back harder, reminding me that in a pinch, he might still be able to strong-arm me into a closet. “Also, what the hell is on your face?” Marc frowns.
“I’m growing a beard,” I tell him.
“You look ridiculous.” Marc shakes his head. He helps me with the two cake boxes, taking them from my hands.
“Uncle Jack!” Allie cries in sheer delight. She jogs up to mewearing head-to-toe pink and purple, her brand-new bejeweled flashing sneakers lighting up the tile floor in a blaze of seizure-inducing light. I let the balloons hit the ceiling, and I give her a huge hug. She pulls away and squeals, “Are these for me?”
She grabs the pink gift bags in a flash. They’re almost as big as she is. “Thank you, thank you, Uncle Jack!” She looks at the cake boxes. “Is thatmy cake?” she asks innocently, batting those thick, dark eyelashes.
“You better believe it is,” I say with a grin. “Chocolate-chocolate!”
“Yes!”she cries, and pumps a fist in victory. “I love birthdays!”
Kylie, my sister-in-law, comes into the foyer then. She flashes her bright white smile, her dark hair long past her shoulders. Her mother was a nurse, born in Manila, and she met and married Kylie’s father, an army sergeant from Illinois, when he was stationed in the Philippines in the early 1980s.
“Did you say thank you to Uncle Jack?” she asks Allie, who nods vigorously. “Go on and put those presents with the others.” She gives me a hug. “Hi, Jack. Thanks for coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
“You did too much,” she cries, shaking her head.
“Never too much for Allie.” I want that cancer-fighting superhero to get everything she wants for her birthday. And I’m grateful to be here, since seeing Allie means I can’t mope around about Sora. It’s hard to feel bad for myself when I realize life is precious, and why spend my time moaning about setbacks when I’ve got my health and my family, and things aren’t really, actually so bad?
“Well, your parents brought gifts, too.” She nods to the other bags lining the hallway leading to the kitchen. “They just flew in this morning.”
Mom finds me as I’m shrugging out of my jacket. “Jack! You look so handsome!”
“Mom.” She gives me a hug so tight that I can’t breathe for a minute. For a small thing, she’s mighty.
We see them a little less now she and Dad retired and moved to Flagstaff. She’s wearing her trademark red cardigan, sensible flats, and her bobbed salt-and-pepper hair is perfectly combed. She’s half Chinese, via my grandmother, and part Portuguese, via my grandfather.
“Is that Jack? Hey! Hey!” Dad stashes his reading glasses on top of his full head of white hair. He’s Irish, German, Dutch, and a little Portuguese. He gives me a handshake strong enough to crush a weaker man. “Looking fit as ever, Jack! Been hitting the weights?”
“You know I have.” I grin. Dad smacks my biceps and then pretends he’s hurt his hand. Classic dad move.
A pack of wild glitter-bow-wearing girls flies by.
“Look out, they bite,” Dad jokes and he and Mom follow the partygoers to Allie’s room. Marc and I head to the kitchen with the cakes, where every available surface is covered in pink and purple.
“Looks like a glitter bomb exploded in here.” I shake my head.
“Ian’s not going to like it. He’s such a neat freak,” Marc adds. “Beer?” he asks me, grabbing one from the fridge. I nod.
“Where is he, anyway?”
Marc frowns. “Took a shift in the ER.”
“You’re kidding me. He’s missing Allie’s birthday party?” This I can’t believe.
