The Birthday Room Read Free

sorry this happened on your birthday.”
    â€œI’m not.”
    She seemed stung by this comment, and Ben tried to choose his words carefully, but he had a hard time holding back. “Mom, this is my only uncle, my long-lost fugitive uncle, my only relative except for you guys and Gramma Lu. . . .” His voice cracked, excited, then trailed off as he saw her eyes rest on his left hand. Nonchalantly, he slid his left hand behind his right. “Don’t even worry about the finger thing. If I’m not mad about it, you shouldn’t be.”
    The bell on the front door rang, announcing someone coming or going.
    â€œIt’s a free vacation,” Ben joked, trying to make his mother laugh, something he was usually very good at.
    â€œYou can’t understand,” she said simply, oblivious to his attempt at lightheartedness. “And I don’t expect you to.”
    The letter lay open between them on the ancient, wavy pine table at the far end of the store office. The paint on the table was robin’s-egg blue and blistering. When Ben was little, he often amused himself while his parents worked by pretending that the tabletop was a great sea, the deck of cards stored inside the table’s one drawer was his personal fleet of fifty-two ships, and he was an admiral. Kneeling on a chair piled with oversize books, he guided the ships through dangerous waters infested with sleek paper-clip sharks and translucent cough-drop stingrays.
    All at once, Ben’s mother grabbed the letter. “Wait here,” she said, holding the letter away from her body. “I’ll be right back. I’ll see if your father’s done up front. I want him to read this.”
    â€œOkay.”
    She moved purposefully through the office, negotiating the maze of book cartons.
    With his thumbnail, Ben broke open a cracking bubble of paint on the table. He blew the paint chips aside to reveal a honey-colored patch of wood. He wondered how much he didn’t know about his uncle, how much his mother did. He decided that his mother was a bottle of secrets, and he wanted to know everything he deserved to know.
    About ten minutes later, Ben’s father entered the office alone, tapping the folded letter against his thigh.
    â€œWhere’s Mom?” Ben asked.
    â€œWith a customer,” his father answered. “Someone looking for a cookbook who did not want to be waited on by a man. Weird,” he added, shaking his head in disbelief.
    Ben was still at the table, sitting now. He had been counting the money in his wallet again for something to do while he waited. Jerkily, he flipped the wallet shut and replaced it in his pocket. He gulped before he spoke. “Well, what do you think?”
    His father slid the letter across the table to Ben. “Yours,” he said. “What do I think—I think this is a pretty emotional thing for your mother. It was all so sudden. Give her some time.”
    â€œBut what do you think?”
    â€œIt’s not up to me. Ian’s your mother’s brother.”
    â€œDad, you can still think something.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know.” One corner of his father’s mouth curved up toward a smile. “I suppose I’d like to see him again,” he said with an aimless wave. “After all, he is family. And there aren’t very many of us, that’s for sure. But you and I don’t know what it’s like to have a brother or sister, so—” He broke off as though a new thought had come to him, making him forget what he was about to say.
    â€œBut it should be up to me ,” Ben said. “I mean, the envelope has my name on it.”
    His father drew in his shoulders. “Well, actually, that’s part of the problem. Your mother thinks Ian should have written to her .”
    The air conditioner kicked in loudly, causing both their heads to turn. The roar filled the room, sounding to Ben as if they were