“Daddy! Did you forget? It’s my birthday today and I’m having a big party and me, you, and Max are gonna make an obstacle course so let’s get to it!” Dominic wriggled loose and jumped down to the ground. “C’mon!”
Isaac laughed. “Of course I remember. I need some time to change and talk party stuff with Mommy. Can you play in your sandbox for a while? I won’t take long, I promise.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing as he watched Dominic huff out a breath of air and cross his arms tightly over his chest, then pucker the muscles of his face together in the expression that Isaac always joked was his look of either deep concentration or serious constipation.
“Maybe. Can I use the hose?”
“It’s your birthday, right?” Dominic nodded vigorously. Isaac noted that Dominic’s arms remained folded across his chest. Clearly, his son meant business. Isaac couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Well, then of course we’ll let you use the hose.”
“Yes!” Dominic loosened his arms and pumped a fist in victory. Isaac watched him run off. An almost-overwhelming feeling of love swelled inside of him, beginning in his chest and radiating up to his head and down to his toes.
“Hey, Tiger?” He waited until Dominic turned in his direction. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Daddy. I’m five today!” He raised a hand, all five fingers outstretched, into the air and in one graceful motion swooped down to pick up the hose.
As Isaac watched Dominic drag it to the sandbox, he threw an arm around his wife and pulled her close. “Ready for today, Reese?” He kissed the top of her head.
Reese drew back slightly, but Isaac noted that she didn’t remove her arms from around his waist. He used the opportunity to pull her against him again. Not resisting his pull, Reese only half-heartedly complained, “Isaac. You’re still sweaty from tennis.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I still love you.”
Max’s voice abruptly reminded Isaac that he, Reese, and Dominic weren’t the only ones in the yard. “All right, Gretchen, my dear wife, time to test your love for me.”
“Don’t touch me, Max.”
“Ouch. Hurtful.”
Isaac watched Gretchen roll her eyes. He wondered about that. Such an interaction and gesture could be taken as playful, but he didn’t quite get that vibe just now. With her wrinkled nose and her swift step backward, Gretchen seemed truly disgusted. Sure, a sweaty white t-shirt stuck Saran Wrap style to a man probably wasn’t drop-dead sexy, and Max’s smell of victory was more pungent than fragrant. However, Isaac looked and smelled the same, other than the fact that his was the smell of defeat, and Reese wasn’t repulsed. Perhaps it wasn’t Gretchen’s reaction that was odd; it seemed quite fitting. Maybe it was Reese whose reaction was strange.
That same sensation of love he’d felt for Dominic moments before surged through him again. Reese was a remarkable woman. He’d known that from the moment he laid big, goofy eyes on her just over ten years ago. He had just graduated from college and was working where he still worked to this day, the Cascades Conifers, a minor league triple-A baseball team not quite creatively named after evergreen trees native to the Cascade Mountains, which themselves were, like him, native to Oregon. Isaac had worked for the team throughout his university years, actually. He had been hired as their mascot and spent much of his summers either in Portland State University classrooms or inside a tree costume on a baseball field in suburban Portland. During his senior year, he had interned with the organization as part of his degree in business administration. His successful internship segued into a career with the team—in the office rather than in a costume. For a few years, every now and then, he still played the role of mascot, and the night he met Reese, he was prancing around the stadium as an uprooted evergreen tree.
He encountered her during one of the between-inning activities designed for fan participation. As the mascot, he was supposed to stir up excitement for these games by acting wacky and messing with the contestants. He was romping around as the activity crew readied two fans for a spirited game of tug-o-war. His plan was to run back and forth between the two, picking up the length of rope behind each of them and pretending to pull on it but acting like it was too hard. When the game began, he careened over and then came to a screeching halt. Two women faced off, one of whom was the most naturally beautiful woman he had ever had the privilege to blatantly stare at from the safety of a tree’s interior. The way she smiled and laughed as she tugged on the rope nearly brought him to his knees. The game was short-lived, the beautiful woman won, and the crowd cheered. Had he not been hidden in a gigantic costume, he never would have had the guts to do what he did. He rushed over, grabbed her hand and raised it up in victory, like a referee does to a winning boxer, before looping her arm in the crook of his branch and skipping around, presenting her to the crowd, which cheered more loudly than before. As he returned the woman to her friend, he asked her if she would meet him at the gate after the game. She shrugged, cocked her head, smiled broadly, and said, “Maybe.”
The remainder of the game had moved so slowly that Isaac didn’t think he could stand it. He was so nervous, both that she wouldn’t show up and that she would, that he very nearly threw up all over the inside of the costume. Thankfully he hadn’t, which made it easier for him to clean up and make himself look—hopefully—halfway decent. When he approached the gate and saw her waiting for him, his heart soared.
Today, on the morning of their son’s fifth birthday, Isaac joyfully hugged Reese, the victorious tug-o-war contestant who was willing to meet him and give him a chance. He kissed her head again, then said reluctantly, “Well, I suppose I’d better go in and get cleaned up. Max, go home and do the same, and do it quickly. We’ve got a party to prepare.”
“Yes, Max. Go shower,” Gretchen grumped. “I’ll stay and give Reese a hand in the kitchen. Oh, and don’t wake up Elise. She finally fell asleep. I can’t believe she woke us up at four.” She paused; Isaac mused that Gretchen’s silence contained as much impatient irritation as her voice. “God, Max, don’t look so shocked.” She wiggled a receiver in the air. “I didn’t leave her unsupervised. I’m listening for her. This thing’s got a great range, and we’re just next door.” Without waiting for a response, she turned to Reese and said, “Come on. We’ve got Jigglers to cut.”
Isaac studied the stunned expression on his friend’s face. He elbowed Max lightly and said, “Go check on your little one. Bring her over when you come back. See you shortly.”
#
Four hours later, Isaac stood in the center of the backyard. With Dominic in the house with Reese, Isaac took the opportunity to enjoy a few final peaceful moments before the yard was overrun by overzealous preschoolers in frantic search of a sugar rush. He inhaled deeply and surveyed his surroundings. Fifty colorful helium-filled balloons, individually tied to various objects, danced gently in the light breeze. Fifty. Reese’s logic behind the number had been that fifty balloons equaled ten balloons for every year of Dominic’s life. The math did make sense; however, Isaac still puzzled over the logic behind it. It didn’t matter to him, though. Dominic deserved a fun, lively birthday party, and Reese deserved to design it for him. Isaac attempted to smile at the idea of his wife, son, and the balloons, but he couldn’t quite muster one.
His inability to smile had nothing at all to do with his love for them. He loved them both fiercely, and the swelling in his heart just this morning was one of his favorite feelings in the world. Too frequently, that sensation of warmth and tenderness seemed to seep through every pore and slither off to some unknown dark place. The loving sensations were always, always present in his mind. He could think about his love, and he knew intellectually that it was strong and deep, but he couldn’t always feel that love. He often worried that he was depressed. It did seem quite fitting, but it also kind of didn’t make much sense. He knew that he should be happy. And he was happy, at least on a cognitive level. He hated it when the feelings were stuck in his head and wouldn’t spill out into the rest of him. Stupid, selfish brain. Isaac didn’t