“Whose birthday is it again, Aunt Alice," my nephew Eli asks, his mouth full of cake batter.
I wipe a stray drop of the chocolate batter from his cheek and tell him, "June 30 is Linda Day. My mom--your mom's mom, too--was Linda, and we celebrate her birthday every year to remember her and talk about how much we love her, even though she's not here with us." It's hard for a five year old to grasp, but today is a big day for my family.
My brothers are both here, wearing nice pants and clean shirts for a change. We all get takeout from Mom's favorite barbecue place and every year, I bake her favorite cake. Rich, flourless chocolate cake pairs nicely with fresh raspberries this time of year. My sister took the boys out wandering to pick some in the wild along the trails in Highland Park yesterday.
I'm about to slide the cake into the oven when I hear a knock at the front door. "Ry!" I shout to my brother. "Can you get the door? I think that's the food."
He walks to the front door with my nephew Ethan slung over one shoulder and I hear him fling the door open. As I shut the oven, I look up to see the dour face of my boss standing on the front mat.
I freeze, and Ryan crumples his face. "You're not the guy from Showcase." He pauses a beat, assessing Tim, who looks like he's just come from an intense sweat session. "Can I help you?"
Eli runs over to his brother and uncle and points at Tim. "That's the angry man from Aunt Alice's work! The one who yells!" Tim's cheeks flush and I walk over to try to salvage the situation.
"Ry, this is my boss. Do you remember Tim Stag? Aim said he went to school with you all. Grew up in the neighborhood."
Ryan nods as he lowers my nephew to the ground. "Stag. I think so. What's up, man? You need something?"
I've never seen Tim at a loss for words. At work he's always so confident. In total control. Except when he was yelling at my nephews I guess. And when he dragged me off into the conference room for sex…at the memory, my own face flushes. "Tim," I say, "Come inside for a drink of water?"
He seems mortified and lingers in the doorway. "I don't know what I was thinking," he says, quietly. "I was at my grandmother's house for pancakes and she said she saw you and…"
He drifts off, looking around at my extended family. Dad, Dan, and Doug are watching the baseball game on TV and my sister is flitting around setting out plates and napkins. The actual delivery guy starts climbing the porch steps, and Ryan sort of shoves Tim into the house as he squeezes past to pay for the food. Tim looks into my eyes. "I'm interrupting something here. I'll just see you tomorrow, Alice."
"Wait!" I shout, before thinking twice. "Please stay."
He looks as if I've asked him to lend me a kidney, but he enters the house. "Everyone," I shout above the normal family chaos. "This is Tim and he's here for ribs."
My brother and brother-in-law don't turn from the TV, but my dad glances up. "Stag!" he says, waving. "Good to see you again, son. You still over there on Euclid Ave?"
Tim nods. "Yes, sir. My grandmother lives there, although I own it now." He pauses and looks at me. "I'm not sure why I said that last bit."
I pat his arm and tell him to have a seat on one of the bar stools. I slide him a glass of water, saying, "There's just a few minutes left until the cake comes out of the oven, then we'll eat while it cools." I smile at him. It's good to see him, to be near him, no matter what the circumstances.
He waves around at my family as my nephews start firing Nerf darts at him. "What is all this?"
As I explain Linda Day to Tim, I see his face shifting. His emotions are all over the place as he listens to me explain. I know that his mother is gone, too. I lean closer to ask him, "How does your family remember your mom?"
His face is ashen and stiff. He shakes his head and his mouth moves a bit, but no sound comes out. Finally, he whispers, "we don't speak of her. Ever." Suddenly I'm overcome with sadness for him. For all the pent up grief he must carry. I know his brothers are gregarious and friendly. I'm so sad for them that they don't share their feelings about their lost mother, even to remember what they loved about her. I walk around the counter and wrap my arms around Tim. He melts into my chest and I see my sister Amy looking at me strangely, but I don't feel like worrying about her right now.
Tim is breathing fast and heavy, and I rub his back until the timer beeps on the oven. Reluctantly, I break our embrace to pull out the cake. He props his elbows on the counter, head in his hands. My sister calls everyone to the table to eat and I touch Tim's shoulder. "Come join us," I say. And he does.