Fifth Place
Copyright© 2006 by RPSuch
Chapter 15
People wandered into and through and out of the house. It was our first annual open-house birthday party.
Getting people to come to this one was easy: they wanted to see Jacob, just nine days old.
All three of our kids' birthdays fell in less than a three-week span. Given that we are homo sapiens, I discounted an annual cycle and chalked it up to chance. It was attended by relatives, neighbors and friends.
Alexander and Melinda each had their own parties with their own friends. He was five and had an idea who his friends were, but we still assisted three-year-old Melinda with picking hers.
They each requested, actually demanded big brother Harry the Babysitter, that was his full name as far as they were concerned, be in attendance.
Harry insisted on bringing along Nancy and Justin completely on his own - after I had a conversation with him about it.
Any party we held that included children included my other three kids and also Betty, under her official name, Harry's Mommy.
All five children loved each other and loved to be with each other. I give Karen a lot of the credit for that.
We were lucky they were the first to arrive. Alexander and Melinda were doing the home equivalent of, "Are we there yet?" They started right after breakfast with, "Are they here yet?" We must have heard that at least a hundred times in less than four hours. With their arrival came blessed relief.
Betty looked at us and a range of emotions played across her face like the views of a hologram seen from different angles. It wasn't difficult to read. I had seen them before. Looking at the five of us, a happy, if noisy, family seemed to bring her a unique kind of pain. She knew, but for her own actions, it could have been her in that portrait instead of Karen.
She had seen both Karen and me with the look. Betty said she would give anything to be the giver and recipient of the look. She had come to terms with her actions over these five years, but the look and the fulfillment Karen and I represented this day would pain her until the day she died.
She said it softly, but Karen and I could hear. "This could have been mine."
It was wistful and rueful. It reminded me of the exchange we had last time she brought Harry and his siblings over to baby sit.