Bad Birthday

It was the morning after the first snowfall. A fickle sun peered through thick clouds over a winding neighborhood nestled against rugged mountains. Cars lined the snowy curbside of Rockwood Avenue, and the neighbors were as curious as they were perturbed by the unsightly disruption that cluttered the otherwise immaculate street where Ari lived. In the yard, large placard letters were dug into the frozen ground, proudly displayed in front of their neatly manicured and well-maintained cookie-cutter home.

"OK, open your eyes."

His eyelids crept open, and Ari felt a rush of splendor on a day where anything was possible. Just as a gust of cold wind tussled his disorderly oaken hair, his grin widened when he saw a huge display of his name, three times the size of his timid personality.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARI, read the massive letters.

Ari followed his dad along a winding concrete path that led them to the front door. He held an oversized stack of pastel-colored birthday presents, each elaborately adorned with silky ribbon. When Jordan opened the door for his son, Ari's biggest fears came true.

"Surprise!"

The thunderous roar of a vibrant crowd startled him at once. He instinctively hid behind his presents, but it was too late to hide from a party thrown together in his honor.

He recognized their guests. Some were prominent parents from the school's volunteer committee, while the others were their vivacious kids that Ari often avoided wherever possible. The adults were holding up their phones to capture a rare moment when Ari was beaming with equal apprehension and delight as he scanned the crowd for his mother's comforting face.

When he found her, she was holding a tall, monumental cake sure to spark envy of its onlookers. Candles protruded above lavish blue frosting, and it almost looked too perfect to be edible. When his focus shifted to his mother's radiant smile, all of his bubbling anxiety evaporated instantly.

"Come blow out your candles honey," said Hannah.

Her meager voice barely rose above the cheerful chatter of the crowd, and Ari hurriedly made his way through a maze of modern furniture before standing in front of her. It was only then that he noticed the candles were unconventional, breaking a pattern from the years passed. Their artificial sparks twirled around like miniature dancing fireworks, and Hannah could see the magnificent display in the reflection of her son's wide, gleaming eyes.

"Make a wish," she said through an exuberant grin, her tone low enough that only he could hear her.

Ari shut his eyes and desperately thought of something to wish for, but then he peeked around the congested space of his home and realized he was the unwanted center of everyone's attention. The startling discovery caused his mind to go blank, and he suddenly couldn't draw upon any desire to wish for. He returned his gaze to the darkness behind his closed eyes, and instead thought about how thankful he was.

He thought about the near-fatal accident that upended his life a year ago. An accident he could only remember fragments of. They told him that no one could have survived what he did. By some miracle of chance he lived to hear the story of his own triumph, although how, he wasn't quite sure. The refined narrative of what did happen was too limited to make enough sense. His family didn't want to frighten him with grotesque details that would only stir unease within their child. All he knew was all that mattered, that a team of doctors saved his life. Every day was a blessing he was too young to understand, and yet somehow he understood it vicariously through the emotional recount of his parents. They looked at him as if he were a walking miracle, and that's exactly how he felt.

After he inhaled as much as his lungs would allow, he released a burst of air at the candles, blowing out all but 4 of 12 whose O² sensors failed to recognize his stammered breath. He looked to his mother, who was blowing out air of her own to finish what he couldn't. That was how she was – Always there to pickup the pieces when he least expected.

"What did you wish for?" she whispered, as if requesting a forbidden secret.

"I'm not supposed to say mom," answered Ari. "If I tell you it won't come true."

Hannah carefully cut the ice cream cake into impeccably symmetrical portions. After giving Ari the first, she went around handing slices to the other guests, engaging the other moms with her classic witty banter. Meanwhile his father was surrounded by a group of men who shared hushed jokes and subdued laughter, likely the kind of humor unfit for a kids birthday party. He was easy to spot because the tone of his skin was darker than the others, although he didn't stand out in any other way.

The kids Ari's age formed a group so exclusive that he didn't feel welcomed enough to join, not even in his own home. As he turned to walk away, he noticed a girl near his age staring back at him. It was Zoie Luther, his crush who would often wave him down with curious eyes through crowded hallways and the chaotic cafeteria at school. Whenever he saw those eyes he would try to avoid her, using other kids as shields to hide behind. He avoided her because she was too good to look at, and he was too shy to try. No matter how much he shied away, she would eventually reappear before him, and the two would end up inching closer to each other as if they were pulled together by some magnetic force.

The fact that she was a guest at his party was more than a random anomaly. One that could've only been the result of his mother's tricky handiwork. Although he tried glaring at her for the presumptuous move, she didn't seem to notice. He figured he'd scold her later in private, and until then he planned to hide in the kitchen. Far from the possibility that his crush would strike up a conversation, and even further from any chance of embarrassing himself.

He skimmed through a collection of artisan goods that lined the interior of the refrigerator, pretending to make a selection he didn't truly care to make. When he shut the fridge door, he was shocked by what he found. Zoie was standing right in front of him, as if she teleported to where he was without making the faintest sound. The mere sight of her caused his eyes to grow round with alarm.

"Hey Ari," she said, glowing brightly. "It's so weird to see you outside of school."

He was so startled he couldn't speak. Instinctively, he glanced down at the ground, away from her blinding beauty. He figured he could try to say something, but he was concerned it wouldn't impress her. He reached into his pocket for his inhaler to buy time, but it wasn't there. He forced himself to think of something to say, awkwardly drumming the sides of his legs in silence.

"Didn't expect to find you here," said Ari.

"Yeah well, my mom insisted we make an appearance."

Although it wasn't insinuated, he presumed she and her mother were also there as a statement of support. Practically the entire school heard about what happened, and there was no way to disregard the months of school he missed following his surgery.

In a town as small as the one they lived in, myths traveled faster than facts. If you didn't move fast enough to dispel a rumor, it would most certainly spread like a cataclysmic virus. His light fingered mother was good at extinguishing gossip from the quick convenience of her phone. If it wasn't for her, the whole county might have believed that Ari survived a rock climbing accident.

"I like your necklace," she said, pointing at a gold coin threaded with a small silver chain.

It was then that he realized he was wearing one at all, and he picked it up to observe it from her perspective.

"What is it?" Asked Zoie, combing her long silky hair with every finger.

It was a metal fragment from the scene of the car accident. His father turned it into an accessory as a relic of valor, against his mom's wishes. He was about to explain it's significance, but it would've meant talking about the accident, and he didn't want to do that.

"It's just something I found on the road."

In his next breath, he felt an onset of a sharp headache that threatened to overtake his undivided focus on her. He dismissed the feeling defiantly, pretending everything was okay for as long as he could, when in reality he was becoming worried. He fought the urge to appear pained in any way because he was talking to the girl he was rarely brave enough to be around.

At the other end of the house his mom was making her rounds, checking in with everyone as she carried the rhythmic flow of their conversations. She went around gathering used plates and cutlery at the exact moment they were no longer needed, keeping their presence as effortless as she could. She was busy ensuring the house was spruced and orderly, when suddenly, the sound of shattering glass cut through the ambient chatter, stealing everyone's attention, and bringing with it a bitter silence.

Hannah froze instantly, using only her eyes to search the living room for the source of the sound. As she looked around at the worrisome faces of the guests, she realized she couldn't find her son. In a sudden rush of maternal fear she quickly paced from room to room before she found Ari crouched on the kitchen floor. His face was burrowed into his lap with hands pressed against the temples of his head.

"What's going on in here?" whispered Hannah, tucking a lock of hay colored hair behind an ear as she furrowed her brow in confusion.

Hannah swiftly glanced around before starting for the kitchen, careful to not attract further attention to the scene of the crime. After a few steps towards Ari, a faint crackle emanated from underneath her shoes. Startled, she glanced down, and upon further inspection discovered that she was standing on scattered shards of broken glass.

"Oh no, sweetheart!" exclaimed Hannah, realizing what happened.

When she noticed that Zoie was standing only feet away from Ari she instinctively asked her to flag down his father. Anything to get her out of the room as quickly as possible because in truth, she was only trying to shield her son from further embarrassment.

Hannah rapidly began picking up pieces of broken glass from the floor, pretending everything was alright before anyone became suspicious that it wasn't. After the evidence was disposed, she gracefully lowered herself to the floor where Ari was, and as she took in a better view of him, she could see he was on the verge of tears, cringing from unbearable pain.

When Ari finally looked passed her, he was surprised to find dozens of lidless eyes staring back at him. She followed his trail of sight before discovering the same dreadful audience, and she could feel his humiliation. Without a second thought, she draped him into her arms before he spontaneously moved away from any display of being coddled in front of the other kids from school. He rushed through the parting crowd, and sprinted through the house and up the stairs headed towards his bedroom without daring to look back at the distressed faces of his guests There was only silence, then came the loud thud of Ari slamming his bedroom door shut.

No one knew what to say, and Ari's parents didn't know what to do. Hannah rushed towards her husband and whispered for him to bring the party to an end, resigning her efforts at keeping her son's big day perfect. Jordan ushered the guests out of the house citing his son's unpleasant migraine as the cause. They had experienced the same situation many times before, and the chances of his condition improving in the next few hours were exceedingly slim.

Upstairs Ari cowered underneath the covers of his bed, casting aside a birthday party he never asked for, or wanted. If it wasn't for the party, he would've been better off. He would've made it through yet another painful migraine without the embarrassing display that now stained his memory.

Hannah braved her way into his room and seated herself at the edge of his bed, gazing into the hazy turquoise light that came from his bedroom lamp. She thought of the long road to get him to where he was. The overnight stays at the hospital. The ceaseless follow-up appointments. She wanted to make things better for him, but she knew she couldn't. All she could do was comfort him through the shadowed journey to a normal life. Maybe things wouldn't be the same, but rather, a new normal.

"Look, I know things didn't go as planned but I promise everything will get better," said Hannah, rubbing one of his legs over a warm, plushy blanket. "Do you know how much I love you?"

She waited for a moment to hear a reply that never came, imagining what he was going through. She rose to her feet to get a better look at Ari through the dark shroud of his bedroom. Staring into the back of his head, she presumed him to be asleep. She carefully adjusted his comforter before creeping across the floorboards using a pirouette of light from the hallway to guide her path.

But Ari wasn't asleep. He was staring at the wall beside his bed wishing everything and everyone would simply go away. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, and he couldn't see past the setbacks of the life he now lived.

From the other side of the shut the door, Hannah's phone rang, and after rushing to the privacy of her bedroom she answered the call.

"How's he holding up?" asked the voice from the other end of the phone.

"I feel like it gets worse every time," replied Hannah. "I'm really worried about him."

"You tell him I said to hang in there," said the doctor "If it's okay with you, I'd like to get him scheduled for another MRI. In the meantime, I'll get him something for the pain."

What good will another MRI do? Wondered Hannah. He endured enough testing to last a lifetime. Ari's doctors confined him to an endless series of checkups, bloodwork, and lab tests with no meaningful results. They couldn't explain why he was still experiencing horrendous migraines so long after his surgery, and instead of trying something new, they simply rescheduled him for another round of the same tests.

Even though they didn't understand what was causing him such torment, she was grateful. To her, they were a small price to pay for a second chance at life, but to a little boy, each incident felt like the entire world was crashing down on him. Every time she'd have to pick up the pieces, offering him what little she could to make things more bearable. And every time she felt like she was lying by giving him the false hope that kept him moving forward, but what else could she do?

Amid a condition he battled daily, she wanted answers for her son. Answers they didn't give. They were the medical team that raised him from a coma, but for whatever reason couldn't diagnose a reoccurring headache. The idea that the medical institution who could do what no one else could couldn't find a solution to such a simple problem was bewildering to Hannah. Every now and then, the idea that Ari's doctors knew more than they were telling her occupied her mind, but then she'd cast away such a preposterous notion.

After all, what would they be hiding?