Happy Birthday: A Novel

“Merry Christmas, Mike.” She smiled as she hung up. It was funny to think about, she was almost four months pregnant with his child, and he had just asked her out for their first date. And she was thrilled.

The day after Christmas, at the appointed hour, Jack showed up at Valerie’s building in a Cadillac Escalade SUV, with a driver. He was sitting in the backseat, and she hopped in beside him. He was wearing a big shearling coat and a turtleneck sweater, and she had dressed casually too. He had warned her that dressing was still difficult for him. They had both worn jeans, and she was wearing a short fur jacket. One of the nice things about April’s restaurant was that you could wear whatever you wanted.

She and Jack chatted easily on the way downtown. He said that he had spent Christmas with his son, who had left to go skiing with friends that morning. He said he was on good terms with his ex-wife, who had remarried shortly after their divorce sixteen years before and had three young boys. Valerie said she was on great terms with her ex too, whose second wife she liked immensely, and they had two daughters.

Jack admitted readily that he hadn’t been a great husband. “In fact,” he said, looking sheepish, “I was awful. Too much temptation. And I was way too young. We were married for ten years, and I have no idea why she stayed as long as she did. It’s heady stuff being a quarterback at the top of your game. I thought I was hot stuff, and I guess back then I was. I had way too much fun, and I have to admit, I have since then too. This last birthday kind of got me thinking. Could be it’s time to get out of the fast lane and slow down. The night before my birthday damn near killed me.”

She smiled at the memory. “You looked pretty bad when I saw you.”

“I thought I was dying. I was in bed for two weeks with that disk. That never happened to me before. I figured it was some kind of message.”

“And what would that be?” she teased him. He looked in good spirits despite his recent injury, and he didn’t look like he was slowing down to her. He was out for dinner less than a week after he’d been shot.

“I’m not sure what the message is,” Jack said, smiling at her. “Get thee to a monastery maybe. Or at least slow down. I’ve been raising hell for a long time. I was thinking about it in the hospital too. We could have all been killed. I think I want to put more thought into how I spend my life, and be a little more selective about who I spend it with.” The models he went out with were beautiful, but essentially he knew better than anyone that they were just a string of one-night stands. He hadn’t had a serious relationship in years. He was beginning to think he was ready for one now. He knew he hadn’t met the “who” yet, but the rest was coming clear, since the terrorists had taken over the network.

They arrived at the restaurant, and when April saw them getting out of the car, she came out to meet them and helped Jack in. She had given him a table with easy access, and was happy to see her mother. Together they settled Jack on a banquette, with his injured leg on a chair. He said it worked, and Valerie sat next to him on the banquette. It was a cozy table, but everyone in the room had recognized him when he walked in. Even on crutches, he was a striking man. He was six four and still weighed 240 pounds. Her mother was a tall woman, but she was dwarfed beside him, as was April. And of course people had recognized Valerie too. They always did.

April had gained a little weight recently, and she was losing her waistline, but in the apron she wore constantly, so far no one had noticed. It would be a while still before the baby showed. She knew she would have a lot to explain then. No one had any idea what was coming.

Jack ordered all his favorites that night for dinner. He had crab salad, and hot, fresh Maine lobster. Her mother had a cheeseburger, which she said she had been craving for days. And they shared a double order of April’s delicious French fries. And after serious debate between a chocolate soufflé and a leftover Yule log, they decided to share a hot fudge sundae instead. Each of them was delighted with what they ate, and spent ten minutes praising April.

“So tell me about your show,” he said to Valerie, as they dove into the hot fudge sundae. And April had left a plate of homemade chocolates on their table for good measure, with truffles and delicate butter cookies she had learned how to make in France. “How did you get to be the authority on everything in the home?”