The Breaking Point (Part 3)

SHORT STORY MONDAY

The Breaking Point
(Part Three)

Monday. Cassie's birthday. Carl was gone with the dawn, like those vampires of old who disappear with the break of day. It was impossible, of course, for Cassie to sleep in, and she immediately went down to make coffee after hearing his pickup pull out the drive.

"What are you doing up, Mom?"

After exploring for a minute -- in the living room, then the kitchen and all the closets, yawning and bleary-eyed, pushing back the curtain of sleep -- she began wondering the same thing. How could she explain that she was looking for, expecting, something special; like maybe a banner? a card? a signal of remembrance? ...that it was her birthday.

Hasn't your dad told you it's my birthday? Are you playing a game with me? Is this charade going to last all day? She was quickly in a frump.

"Mom, can Rick come over today?"

"Why don't you go to Rick's house?"

"Rick's mother is kind of mean sometimes."

"That's not very nice," she said carefully. She was glad her kids' friends didn't feel that way about her. "Your friends can come over, but only if you play out in the yard today"

"Thanks, mom"

Noon. No special calls. No flowers. No mention of anything from anyone.

Two o'clock. Call from sister Val. "Did you see As the World Turns?"

"This old TV set is practically --"

"Oh, Happy Birthday!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hey, what's up?" Val had already expected the worst; never did trust Carl; called him Carl the Cad when Cassie first met him years earlier.

Cassie was confused. "I don't know." She wanted to tell Val she'd been crying. "I feel like such a heel. Here it's my birthday, and Carl's probably surprising me with this nice present and I'm all peeved because I think he's forgotten. It's like I have this dread he's forgotten my birthday and I can't explain this damned receipt from Montgomery Wards."

"Give it time, sweets. He's probably trying to build some excitement for you." Val's attempt to sound sincere was taken at face value. Cassie was looking for even the least shred of comfort and Val was not about to dish out her own unpalatable interpretation of Carl's actions.

"Thanks, sis." Cassie said, and then, "Thad's outside crying about something. Gotta run."

~~~

Five o'clock, Carl walks into the kitchen, sees Cassie leaning on the counter, staring out the window; she hesitates, then turns and studies him. Come over here you big sweet lovable jerk, she wants to say, but the words don't come; she's holding out limp hands, but it's only a half-hearted gesture of invitation, and he fails to notice its significance, peeling off his shoes and kicking them into a corner.

"What's up, hon? No dinner tonight?"

You're just putting me on, right, big guy? "You don't have to play with me, Carl. I already know. I just can't stand having to wait any longer and--"

"Know about what?" Carl pulled back his head a notch as if peering through the lower lenses of a pair of bifocals, his chin jutting out, lips parted slightly.

"You know," she said hopefully.

"Hey, really, I'm lost. I mean I am toe-tally in the dark. So where's the eats? You gonna starve the kids, too, or what?"

"I'll pick something up at MacDonald's while you take a shower."

"Like what's the occasion?" Then he covered his face with his hand and mumbled, "Oh shit."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry. Today's your birthday! Where do you want to go? God, I don't know where my head is at sometimes." It was a tradition of theirs to take each other out to eat on their birthdays.

Cassie turned away and looked out the window again. For what seemed like a very long time she watched her son romping in the back yard with a soccer ball. Carl stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen. He knew Cassie well enough to know this wasn't a time to leave. She's unpredictable, that's certain. He was stupid to be so forgetful; that was certain, too.

Without speaking, Cassie grabs her purse and shoves her hand into the middle of it, feeling around for a thin piece of paper which she has kept folded in her checkbook. She pivots to face her husband and holds out the bill. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Hey, cool your jets," Carl says, stepping forward to examine the paper she’s holding out to him. He sees the Montgomery Wards logo on the bottom and says, "It looks like a bill."

"Know what it's for?"

Carl scrunches up his face to read it, shrugs. "How should I know?"

"It's on our account. I didn't buy it." She makes the I emphatic.

"Why would I go out and buy a color TV? We've already got one."

"I just thought--"

"Honest, Cassie, I really don't know what this is about. I'll call the store tomorrow. I'm sure it's some kind of mistake." Trying to smooth things over he says, "Let's try that new place, what's it called? Finnegan's?"

Cassie mutters "Sure, Finnegan's" through clenched teeth and they both go through the motions of letting the mix-up be nothing more than that.

STAY TUNED FOR NEXT WEEK'S FINALE