I nod and kiss her on the forehead. "I'm ready whenever you are."
Ma disappears to her room and I decide I need a cigarette before we leave since I don't smoke in Ma's car. I'm out on the driveway, holding the flowers I bought for Mikayla this afternoon, coughing my way through cigarette number two, when I hear the front door open and close behind me. That's my signal to snub it out in the ashtray in the garage.
"You want me to drive, Ma?" I always ask.
She always declines. She's always been staunchly independent. "I'll drive."
I'm relieved, because I plan on drinking my share tonight. I'm not going to get sloppy, but I'm going to sedate.
I look to Impatient. "You wanna ride shotgun?"
She shakes her head without meeting my eyes. Fine. I'm just trying to be nice. Whatever.
Ma smiles at me as I'm fastening my seatbelt and asks, "What was your number?"
I smile back because this woman knows me. She knows I was thinking it, so I answer, "Nine."
She raises an eyebrow. "Not five? First guess is always five. Nine is risky."
I agree. "Nine is risky. What can I say, I'm a rebel."
She laughs, and it warms my heart. "The number was eight. Your rebellious streak is rewarded tonight."
Bright Side and I used to fight over shotgun. Every time. It was a rivalry held over from our childhood. To settle it Ma used to think of a number between one and ten and whoever was closest got to ride up front in the passenger seat. I suspect Ma kept track in her mind and alternated evenly between rewarding each of us with a win.
Ma's eyes are on the road as she speaks, because she's always been a cautious driver. "The flowers are lovely. Lilies. Mikayla's favorite."
They are Mikayla's favorite. I always give her lilies for her birthday, because Mikayla's like family, my favorite pseudo-auntie. I hold up the bouquet wrapped in cellophane resting in my lap. "Only the best for Mikayla."
A smile breaks out on Ma's cheek. "She'll love them."
Ma reserved a private room at Mikayla's favorite seafood restaurant, Delgado's, for the retirement party. The room is expansive, with high ceilings and white linen tablecloths. There are twenty employees from the office and they all came, most with spouses or dates. It's a good turnout and I'm glad. Mikayla deserves a proper sendoff.
Mikayla predictably goes overboard when she sees me. "Oh my gosh, who's this handsome stranger?" She reaches up and pats my hair. It's grown out to hit my mid-back, but it's still shorter than my waist long she saw last. She pulls me in for a hug.
I laugh off the compliment, set the flowers down on the table behind me, and wrap the little woman up in a hug and lift her off the ground. "How's my favorite Mikayla?" I ask.
She giggles like she does every time I do this. It's one of my favorite things about Mikayla, she's sixty-five years old, but she giggles like a child. Her laughter is pure and free of the cynicism that plagues most adult's laughter. It's also a curious juxtaposition to her serious nature. She's so smart and driven career-wise, that's something that always made Ma and her click so well. They're cut from the same cloth. But when Mikayla laughs, she lets all of that go. I've always loved that.
When I set her down and reach behind me for the bouquet, she gushes over the flowers. "Oh Gus, they're just beautiful. Thank you, sweetie."
I nod and wink. "Anytime, Kay."
After we catch up for a few minutes I excuse myself to the bar to order a Jack on the rocks. Everyone else wants their time with Mikayla too, so I make myself scarce for the moment.
When I return to the dining room everyone is taking their seats for dinner. I slip into an empty chair at the end of the table next to Ted, the mailroom dude—my replacement when I left to go on tour last fall with Rook. He's a quiet guy, but super mellow, I think it's all the weed he smokes.
Dinner is excellent. Ma went all out. It's special-occasion fancy, with whole steamed lobster for the shellfish fiends and some kind of pasta dish that I call heavenly-mind-blowing-noodle-fucking-fantasy for me. And wine. Lots of wine.
Dinner segues into dessert, which segues into more wine, which segues into ... you guessed it ... more wine. Even though my cough still clutches at my throat, and is persistent as hell, I'm enjoying myself. A bottle or two of red will do that.
After a quick stop in the restroom to empty the bladder, I step outside for a cigarette. Ted's already outside smoking, too. He finishes up before I do and announces, "I gotta take a piss, bro," and walks away. I turn and take a final drag before tossing what's left out into the street. When I turn back I walk right into Impatient.
"Whoa, hey," I say. Then, "Sorry," because I knocked her off balance. Her high-heeled shoes don't help matters.
She nods quickly as she rights herself. "Audrey's looking for you. They're cutting the cake for Mikayla."
I rub my belly, because there's always room for cake. "Sweet." I could do with some cake. And besides that, I'm pleasantly buzzed.
A loud train whistle emits from my pocket. It's Franco's text alert. I slip out my cell and take a look as we walk back into the restaurant. The message reads, Been here 5 minutes and already got laid! Attached is a photo of Franco, Jamie, and Robbie standing at the entrance of a hotel wearing colorful leis around their necks. Looks like they made it to Hawaii.