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?”