I listen to the drumming beat of my heart in the hollow
canal of both ears. A deafening sound reminds me I am not dead. I can’t move,
yet felt compelled to lay down at the dizzying frenzy called celebration. A
maddening sore like an oozing infected splinter pokes my gut.
I can’t grasp the light weight feather of hope that seems to
tie my special needs brother to the sky every waking moment. What is it that he lives for? Birthday celebrations
only come once a year. Yet today he blinks with no less elation than the 13
years leading up to this one. Crunching, pouncing death seems to lurk under
each unblown candle that sits upon his cake. His morbid breath creeps with the
wind through the trees above the picnic table. He shrinks your shoulders down
under the oppressive August heat. Death reminds me before I have a moment to
forget, that he is still, and would always be grumbling.
Grumbling in the earth, grumbling in my stomach, grumbling
in my brother’s throat with a low pitched tick from the turrets.
Luke blows out his thirteen candles, spitting all over the
dolphin blue icing. Mom tied dolphin balloons to the edge of the two picnic
tables. They squirmed uncomfortably, unnoticed by the scarce attendance of
extended family. Aunt Jillian and Uncle Tom bolted, after their three kids
effectively painted their faces blue in a hasty attempt to eat and run. That
left Aunt Lucy and my scrawny cousin Mark who would rather be doing jailtime
for possession of marijuana than at his retarded cousin’s birthday party.
Someone forgot to anchor down the stack of dolphin napkins,
blowing a scattered paper sea of animals through Lingfield Park. Mom throws
confetti on Luke and shows him how to blow in to the party hat to make a funny
honking sound. The grumbling haunts again.
I force down a piece of blue cake and stick my food colored
tongue out at my brother. He claps and smiles with all five of his teeth, the
smile my mother refuses to have fixed. I watch as Sean pleads with his mother to
please leave. I watch her concerned and awkward side glace towards my ridiculous
brother. I watch as she turns in the opposite direction of his loud groans and
flailing arms, silent. Mom is too engaged in drinking up all of Luke’s enjoyment
to notice her sister Lucy walking swiftly behind Mark towards their silver
Nissan.
The man across the street mows his lawn. I watch him with my
fists under my chin. The machine moves across the lawn in neat rows, conforming
each blade of grass to exactly the same size. The man wipes his brow with the
side of his short sleeved shirt. He must be hot without the shade. His lips are
pursed, I imagine he’s whistling. I help mom by cutting the tail piece of the
blue dolphin and place it in front of Luke.
“For me?” He smiles, jumping as much as the benched picnic
table allows his over sized thighs.
The day lets out a heavy breeze to relieve the hanging
humidity. A rustle in the tree shading us chimes with the tang of the mower. My
mother laughs. Lucy keys the ignition. Death grumbles. For me?
