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it for a few days. It’s like driving a stick shift.”
    “Maybe that’s my problem.”
    “You’ve never driven a manual transmission before?”
    “Nope.”
    “Man, that’s a shame.”
    Matthew turned to go but then stopped and said, “One last thing. Someone asked me yesterday what La Tazza Magica means. I felt like an idiot because I didn’t have an answer for her.”
    “Your generation doesn’t know how to use Google Translate?”
    Matthew grinned. “I think she was just flirting with me.”
    “It’s Italian for ‘the magic cup.’”
    “Oh, cool.”
    “I always wanted to open an enchanted coffee shop. Pretty stupid, huh?”
    “Not at all. Look, you provide jobs for college students. I don’t know if I’d call that enchanted, but it’s definitely not stupid. If I haven’t said thank you for hiring me, well, thanks.”
    “You’re welcome. Now up front. And don’t forget. Colleen’s in charge this weekend while I’m gone. Whatever she says goes.”
    “Sure thing, boss.” Matthew grinned. “Oh, and since I won’t be seeing you tomorrow, happy birthday.”
     
     
    W HEN I AN got home after closing, he poured a glass of red wine and sat in his dark kitchen. He downloaded John Denver’s Greatest Hits and both Dime Box albums onto his phone for the plane ride. He glanced at the time. It was after midnight and officially his birthday. He got up and went to the counter. He had bought a six-pack of cupcakes as a treat, and he put one onto a plate. Ian rummaged through several drawers until he found a box of candles and some matches. He pressed one of the candles into the chocolate icing and lit it. The glow from the flame threw shadows around the kitchen as he sang “Happy Birthday” to himself. Then he closed his eyes and blew out the candle. Since no one could hear him, Ian didn’t see any harm in saying it out loud.
    “I wish I could go back and do it all over again.”

CHAPTER TWO
     
     
    T HE NEXT morning at six, Ian stood at the foot of his driveway and waited for his best friend, Mark. A single piece of rolling luggage rested beside him. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour and a half, but the temperature had already climbed into the sixties. Spring in Austin could be unpredictable, but Ian never considered living anywhere else.
    He pulled out his phone and swiped the screen. He opened up Grindr out of habit. No messages. He scrolled through the thumbnails of headless torsos and the occasional face pic. Barely anyone over thirty. What did he expect in a neighborhood so close to campus? A flash of headlights appeared at the end of the block, and Ian put his phone away. The car stopped in front of his house, and the trunk popped open. Ian laid his bag next to Mark’s, slammed the trunk closed, and got into the passenger seat.
    “Happy birthday, sunshine.”
    “Thanks,” Ian said. “Although I don’t see what there is to be happy about.”
    “You’re not going to be grumpy all weekend, are you? Haven’t you ever heard of aging gracefully?”
    “I’m the birthday boy. If I want to be grumpy, that’s my prerogative.”
    “Great. I can tell this is going to be a cheerful and upbeat two days.” Mark put the car into drive and headed back to the main road. “I want to point out, however, that I wasn’t grumpy on my fortieth birthday, last year.”
    “You had a hundred people at your party. What did you have to be grumpy about?”
    “Well, maybe if you had something in your life other than that damn coffee shop, you’d have more friends than just me.”
    “I used to have lots of friends. It’s not my fault everyone ended up married or in rehab. Besides, I’m supposed to have dinner with someone next week.”
    “A date?”
    “Not exactly. The architect.”
    “He asked you out? Oh my God, why didn’t you text me? That’s huge!”
    “He didn’t ask me out. He said we should have dinner next week. As friends. We didn’t even exchange phone numbers. Besides, you know