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Random Mayday

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sad-birthday/a>

“Isn’t it weird,” my Dad said to my Mother from the front seat of the 1989 Nissan Maxima as they picked me up from school, “that she died on the same day someone else was born.”

My knees were up against the back of my mother’s seat and she didn’t yell at me. My Dad was using his quieter than usual we’re keeping this from the kids voice.  I knew something was up.  I heard what my Dad said and sat back.

“Someone died,” I leaned over and whispered to my sister, who at 6, was oblivious to anything but the stickers on her lunchbox and the dirt on her red wire framed glasses.  “That’s why they’re being quiet.”

“How you know?” she said and leaned up, “Mommy, Adrian said someone died.” she said in the same tone she always uses to get me in trouble.

My Mom spun around and gave me the ‘your mouth is too open’ look.  “Yeah, one of your aunts died today in the morning.”

“Which one?”  I’m Spanish. I have a shitload of aunts.

“It’s your Great Aunt’s sister, you never met her,” my father answered.

I stopped caring almost immediately.  I didn’t like to think about dead people or dead things.  I’d never seen a dead body.  I did see a guy get hit by lightning when I was five from the front window of my house.  He survived. I thought about it a lot.

A few minutes into the car ride I thought ‘who the fuck’s birthday is today?’  My dad’s was sometime in October, my mom’s and everyone else’s was in June, a couple March birthdays, but no May birthdays.  I went through all the birthdays I could remember but couldn’t find one that matched.

“Hey mom, who’s birthday is today in our family?” I asked getting out of the car, gearing up for the two block walk to our apartment.  This was the closest spot.  I lived in New Jersey.

My mom looked at my dad.  He shrugged his shoulders and my mom responded, “It’s your birthday.”  She turned around and went inside.  My dad quickly followed holding my sister’s hand.

My birthday was a month away. What the fuck was she talking about?

“Mom, my birthday is next month.” I answered expecting her to say silly me and move on.

“Yeah, I know your birthday is next month, but today is the day you were born.”

“Isn’t that what my birthday is supposed to celebrate?”

“Yeah, and it was, until you were five.  Julio, tell him.”  My mom turned her attention to my sister who was stuck trying to take her backpack off.

“Come here.” My dad said and had me sit on the couch as he pulled out my baby book.

Holy fuck I thought.  I must be adopted.  What the fuck?  I always had a feeling.  And then I started thinking about what if my family is super rich and they take me away from this two block walk to my very own driveway.

He showed me my birth certificate.  “So you were born on May 29th, and until you were five we celebrated it then.  When we moved to the United States, they somehow used the wrong date, and used your baptism date as your birthday.”

“So I was born a month before I think I was born?” I asked, wondering what other things they were lying to me about.

“Well, it’s just a mess-up, but to get it changed you’d have to get a whole new social security number and we’d have to refile everything we’ve filled out for you.”

“What?  Why don’t you do that?”

“It’s a lot of stuff.  So we never told you, and we just started celebrating it in June.”
“I can’t believe you guys did that to me.”

“It’s not like you knew.  You didn’t care about your birthday as long as you had a party.  Now you know.  If you care that much; you can change it all when you’re 18.”  He didn’t say another word about it.

I felt betrayed. I had been lied to by the people I never expected would lie to me; about something I never thought I could be lied to about.  I was being over dramatic and realized this pretty quickly.  M sometimes annoying tendency to douche things up—a trait I’m afraid still clings to me to this very day—immediately started wandering into the realm of self-righteousness, that even for an 11 year old was a pretty serious complex.  I WAS the only kid with two birthdays I knew of, maybe the first of my kind; And how, being the great son I am, and for having taken this news—News that to a lesser boy would have left broken and shamed, I could turn to a strength and use to my advantage.  I figured at the very least I deserved two birthdays from here on out.

My mom yelled to me from the kitchen that dinner was ready.  I sat down with my family.  Ughh, beans, rice, a chicken leg, a tortilla, and some cheese; Don’t break the bank mom and dad, it is only the birthday of your eldest son.

“What’s wrong? Eat.” My dad said noticing I was just staring at my food.

“Nothing. I’m not hungry.”  I responded using my won’t look you in the eyes stare I get when I want them to keep asking me what’s wrong.

“You got to eat.  You can’t get up from the table until you’re done. You know the rule.  Besides, you don’t eat dinner; You don’t get desert.”

“You have desert?  Is it birthday cake?”

“Birthday cake?  Kind of like a birthday cake.”

“What’s kind of like a birthday cake?”

“It’s a cheesecake.” He said finishing up his meal.

“Is it for my birthday?”

“No. Your birthday is next month.”

That’s right.  I forgot.  My birthday is next month.  Today is a Tuesday. Happy ‘hey your great aunt you never met just died and by the way, you were really born today and we’ve been lying to you all your life’ Day to me. I’ll never forget that Random May 29th.


Filed under: memoir, The Complete Works of an Incomplete Mind Tagged: birthday, Funny, humor, may, memoir, short story

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