BooksBarbecue
Back At Dawn
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
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  39. Copyright

I lifted the top. Inside was an acrylic black and gold fountain pen, elegant, stylish, far too nice for me to ever use. There were two refills and a manual. Gene had bought me a pen that came with a manual, which I found absurd. I removed the pen and ran my thumb down the length of it and felt several etchings. I twirled it to see “Stratton Brown” engraved in its side.

“Jesus Christ, Gene,” I said.

“If you can’t write a book with that, then you can’t write a book at all,” he said.

“Thank you so much.” I shook my head disbelievingly. It must have cost at least a couple hundred. Far too much for him to spend on me.

“You’re welcome.”

Carolyn handed me Linda’s gift next. It was again thin, but long and wide. I smiled knowingly at Linda.

“You bought me fancy paper to go along with this didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. Did I?”

I tore away the wrapping. It was a soft black leather portfolio, smooth and polished looking. Inside was a legal pad of fine paper, a pen sleeve, compartments for loose papers and notecards. I took the pen in my hand, uncapped it, signed my name on the top sheet, the ink sliding thick and heavy and soaking into the page in a dignified way.

“Thank you so much,” I said to Linda. “I love them both. How in the hell is an asshole like me supposed to get used to nice things like these?”

“You’ll find a way,” Gene said.

I capped the pen, slid it into the sleeve of the portfolio. It fit perfectly. I took a deep breath and looked at everything, the cake, the balloons, the gifts, then at Gene, Linda, and Carolyn. “You guys are too good to me. I mean, really, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much all this means.”

“It’s your birthday, kiddo. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Gene.”

“So, dinner tonight?” he asked.

I looked at Carolyn. I didn’t necessarily want to do anything other than spend a quiet evening at home, but how could I say no? Plus, it’d be good for me to get out of the apartment, which I hadn’t been doing very much of.

I shrugged. “Sure, why not? Where do you want to go?”

“We’ll figure it out. Let’s say seven.”

3

I carried the gifts and balloons downstairs, Carolyn carried the cake. I sat at the desk and started doodling in the notebook. The pen felt comfortable and the ink went on thick, which is what I preferred when I wrote by hand.