“Gene needed help hanging a painting. I’m not really strong enough to hold it for him, though. Wanna come up? It’ll only take a second.”

I wiped my eyes and looked at the clock. 10:47. I was surprised I had fallen back to sleep. “Yeah, sure. Be up in like two minutes.”

I still felt horrible, not physically, but the other, far worse kind, a pain in my chest, as far down as the pit of my stomach.

I knocked at Gene’s door, then pushed through, yawning, down the hallway and into the living room. I stopped. My mouth dropped open and I stared in disbelief. In the center of the room Gene, Carolyn, and Linda stood smiling. Gene was in the middle holding a birthday cake covered in candles; Carolyn was to his right holding two wrapped gifts; Linda, wearing a black sundress with her hair pulled back, stood at his left holding a bouquet of helium balloons.

“Surprise!” they all yelled.

I just stood, unmoving, staring in disbelief. I thought I might tear up.

“Oh darling,” Carolyn said. She placed the gifts on the table and hugged me, cupping the back of my head with her right hand. “It’s your birthday.”

I gazed up at Gene.

“Happy birthday, kiddo. Now blow out these damn candles because I’m sick of holding this thing.”

I took a deep breath and made a wish, blowing out the candles with a single whoosh. Gene placed the cake on the table. Linda hugged me and slapped the balloons in my hand.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“Thanks, Linda. It’s great to see you again.”

“Nothing like fat and sugar at eleven a.m.,” Gene said, cutting four slices.

“I can’t believe this. I’ve never had a surprise party. You guys are great,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

“You bet, kiddo.”

Carolyn was beaming. She stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. We sat at the table and ate. The cake was good, homemade chocolate, thick, rich, loaded with icing. Gene made himself a drink. I looked at him, then at the clock on the wall.

“Bite me,” he said, in a seemingly crotchety mood, which I suppose is why he had made himself a drink in the first place.

There were two gifts, both meticulously wrapped, and Carolyn handed me the first.

“That’s from Gene,” she said.

It was a small package, an inch thick, probably six inches long, and somewhat heavy. I ripped away the paper. It was a green leather case with the name “Parker” etched into the side, an emblem of an arrow shooting through an open circle. I knew what it was and that it was pretty damn expensive.

“Well, open the damn thing,” he said.