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Thirty-Six
It was his birthday, and Lucy wouldn’t let him do anything. So Matt parked himself at the table and supervised, because if he couldn’t be useful he could at least be in the way.
“What do you mean you don’t have a boss. You’re an intern.”
“Nobody does. That’s what I’m telling you. You just pick a project and show up. They have desks on wheels. You literally roll over to whatever you want to work on.”
“Why stop at desks? Put everyone in chairs. Great way to move around.”
Lucy pulled the cake out of the fridge. “Danny, where’s the cheese.”
“I’m cutting it.”
“You’re butchering it. Cubes. Like a human.”
The cubes were uneven. It was killing him.
“I can do the drinks,” he tried.
“Danny’s handling drinks,” Lucy said.
“You’d rather trust him?”
“Hey. They trust me at work.”
“You just said there’s no boss.”
Lucy started placing candles on the cake. He counted them as she went.
Thirty-six.
The doorbell rang.
Matt got to the front door before Lucy could stop him. Ben and Josh stood on the porch.
“Happy birthday,” Josh said.
“Thanks. Come in.”
They followed him back to the kitchen. Ben handed him a bottle of wine.
“Josh picked this,” Matt said.
“What makes you say that.”
“Because it’s nice. Just like that truck in my driveway.”
“My old truck was also nice.”
“It smelled like a wet dog and the heater was a fire hazard. Nothing could kill it. Then your boyfriend enters the picture and you suddenly have a decent truck.”
“Are you done.”
“I think it’s sweet.” He turned to Josh. “I told him to junk that thing for years. Years. How did you do it?”
“I didn’t—he asked me to help—”
“He asked you?” Lucy exclaimed. “Oh, no wonder Matt’s jealous.”
“…And I thought you were the normal one,” Josh said.
“She married Matt. Willingly.”
“What can I say?” Matt said. “Normal people have taste.”
Lucy lit the last candle. Everyone gathered around the counter.
“Make a wish, bro,” Danny said.
A wish meant wanting something you couldn’t have. He had a long list. Not that it would’ve made a difference.
Matt leaned forward and blew them out.
“Happy birthday, Matt,” they said, voices overlapping.
Lucy passed him the knife.
“Does this mean I’m allowed to work in my own kitchen now?”
“Only the first slice.”
He could settle for that. Not a bad day.
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