my plaid skirt and horses T-shirt in honor of Emme. She will absolutely hate it but Joe will approve.
When the doorbell rings I pull it open with panache, expecting to see the birthday boy on the other side. Instead I see Luke. I drop my arms in a flash from the ridiculous pose they had struck a mere second before.
“Oh,” I say. “You’re you.”
“I am?”
“Yes. I wasn’t expecting you. Sorry.” I want to say ‘what’s up?’ in a casual tone, but I can’t bring myself to say such a modern slang expression in anything that passes for casual.
“Can I come in?” He looks a little bit awkward, like he’s regretting coming or perhaps like he doesn’t want to be here at all. Trust it to me to make a man feel awkward within seconds of arriving at my door.
“Of course.” To make up for my lack of graciousness, I open the door wider and smile at him. A real smile, full of what I hope is warmth and good cheer. Well, actually I hope it’s full of beauty and mysterious charm, but warmth and good cheer is more realistic. Whatever my smile is full of it seems to have the desired effect and Luke relaxes his shoulders immediately and comes into our party. I forget to ask him why he’s here but instead get him a glass of ice water and an empty plate, which if I know him at all, he will have piled high with Prue’s cooking in no time.
The next time the doorbell rings it really is Joe and Emme and Bea and we all yell “Surprise!” and Joe is delighted and bounces like a kangaroo through the living room. He is awestruck by the sight of all the gifts (wrapped by me, all with borrowed wrapping paper from Gladys. Most of it is pink and very feminine but he doesn’t notice). Emme says he can open them and he starts tearing through them at lightning speed. He is happy enough with the bear and the lollipops and the books but he is enthralled and enamored with the train set. Within minutes he has Luke sprawled out on the carpet with him, putting it together.
“Such a lot of presents for a little fellow,” sniffs Prue. “He’ll hardly be able to play with all that, now will he?”
“Aw, that’s what big sisters are for,” says Emme, not missing a beat. Her voice doesn’t waver and she sounds as happy as ever – nothing in her voice or demeanor suggests anything but a proud older sister looking on as her little brother grows up. I steal a glance at Bea and she is every bit the actress as well; adopting the part of mother when she should be grandmother. Bea is the one who says no when Joe asks for more chips and the one who reminds him to chew with his mouth closed.
Israel comes downstairs and says hello to Bea and Emme, his car keys in hand. He has taken to keeping them on him at all times now, I’ve noticed. He tousles Joe’s curly red hair in greeting and stiffly nods at Luke, who still sits on the floor amidst a complete train wreck, literally. Luke twitches his right arm as though he is about to offer his hand, thinks better of it, and nods back.
“Sonnet, is there another plate?” Israel asks me.
“I thought you had to work?”
“I changed my mind. I can’t miss this, right, Sport?” he swings Joe up by his knees and dangles him like a pendulum.
“Right!” Joe squeals in delight, from upside down.
“Right,” I mutter. “Sure. One plate, coming right up.” I get his plate and since his hands are still full of brand new seven year old boy, I go ahead and fill it with the foods I know he likes. Since I’m still a little on the outs with Israel it would make sense that I’d fill it with the opposite of his favorites but it’s like my waitress/barista instincts kick in before I can help myself. I bring him his plate of Prue’s delicacies and then I find myself being held captive against my will as Emme combs out and braids my hair.
“Not too elaborate,” I instruct as she yanks a section of hair and the comb gets caught. I wince. “This isn’t Regency England anymore, it’s the twenty first century and a pony tail will do just fine, thanks.”
“A piece of clay doesn’t tell the potter what to make