Birthday Wishes

     Oh no. I see them bringing the cake. I can almost feel the tension mounting as they draw nearer to the table. How am I gonna put this? I’ve been keeping silent for so long, waiting for the right moment to lay it all out there. Shit. They’re at the table now, setting the cake down in front of me.
     Force a smile.
     Play along.
     They’ve spent plenty of money on you. Carried you this far.
     Maybe I should wait. They’re all singing now, and the smiles on their faces are killing me.
     Do it.
     Now.
     “Yeah. Excuse me. Thanks. For all of this. Really, it means a lot. You all mean a lot to me. Hell, if it wasn’t for all of you … I’d be nothing.”
     Their faces again. All smiles. They all look at each other, a collective “aww” escaping their mouths. For me. I had a life of no worries. No bills. Everything was handed to me. I knew my father was planning on giving me the company when he stepped down. I might not exactly be qualified for the position, having never actually worked a day in my life. But still. Without batting an eye, he was gonna give everything to me.
     My palms are clammy. Throat dry. I reach for my water. Almost down the entire glass.
     Here it goes.
     Now or nothing.
     “I’m leaving.”
     Their smiles fade. Jaws drop.
     My father, there to ground everything, scoffs at me.
     “Leaving? What are you talking about? Where would you go?”
     “I don’t know, exactly.”
     “How would you get to ‘you don’t know’? You’re definitely not taking your car, that’s for damned sure.”
     “Walk, I guess.”
     “Don’t be an idiot, son.”
     My mother chimes in, saying, “Clifton, don’t be ridiculous, sweetie. What your father is trying to say is that you’re better suited for the company. You were born to -- ”
     “Born to what, ma? I’ve never done anything on my own. You guys have bought my way through everything.”
     The rest of the family is dead silent. But not my father.
     “Don’t talk to your mother that way, boy. She went through --”
     “Just give me a chance. I could actually make something of myself if you gave me a goddamn chance to pick myself up. I’m not afraid to fall down, Dad.”
     Finally a moment of silence for all of them. My grandmother looks close to tears, but I refuse to acknowledge that. I stand up, push my way through the wait staff and make my way for the door.
     Outside, the air feels new now that I’m free. Finally, I feel like an adult. Like I can make something of myself. Prove my worth. I dig in my pocket and grab out my wallet.
     Fuck.
     I navigate my way back to the table where my father has taken on consoling my grieving mother. I’m such an idiot. I feel like an asshole.
     I clear my throat. All eyes on me, only this time, they’re judgmental.
     Deep breath.
     Do it.
     Now.
     “Can I have some money, Dad?”

Frankie's Grillin'

     A long silence hung in the air after I completed my order and I was about to turn the radio back on, when I heard the sort of conversation I’d always dreaded hearing at Frankie’s Grillin’.
     “What do you mean off? Like completely?”
     “Yeah. Middle finger’s down to the nub.”
     “Dude! How?”
     “Jenny wasn’t paying attention when she was choppin’ the steaks and she cut right through the bone.”
     Another voice in the distance chimed in, gradually getting closer to the man with the headset still audible to me.
     “That’s not how it happened.”
     “How would you know?”
     “I was there. Saw the whole thing.”
     “So … ?”
     “It was a challenge, y’know? Jenny was braggin’ on her skills with the knife. Said she’s been practicin’ along with the Iron Chef shows at night. So Donny asked her to demonstrate. Said he was lookin’ forward to seein’ her fail. Then the rest of the guys in the back started eggin’ her on, cheering ‘Jenny! Jenny!’ until she caved in and started dicing onions paper thin. Pretty impressive. Donny dismissed the whole thing, sayin’ that’s amateur stuff. He learned how to do that just by watchin’ his grandma cook. So he sets another knife down on the counter. Says to impress him, she needed to up the ante. Two hands, two knives, y’know? She tried backin’ down, but the chants started up again. I mean she was so good with one knife, really, what’s one more? She gets a hunk o’ steak. Starts to do the whole tartare thing, and she’s doin’ it good, too. So good, that Donny left the back, pissed off. We’re all cheerin’ her on until she finally stopped. She sets down the knife from her left hand, the hand she’s not the best with, and for added flare, she tosses the other knife in the air. Gives us all a wink, and that’s when the blade came right down on her finger. Cut it clean off. She starts screaming until she faints. Joey calls the ambulance over and they just carted her away.”
     “Wow.”
     “Shit, man. They gonna reattach it okay?”
     “Nah. That’s the worst part. They couldn’t find the finger.”
     I pulled up to the window, feeling a little sick to my stomach. The window slid open.
     “Here’s your “Frankie’s Steak Special.”
     Before he could hand the sandwich over, I sped away.