Page 53 of When Ben Loved Tim

My mom isn’t listening. She’s looking at the street, where my grandma has just pulled up. “Finally! Ben, honey, let your father know that we’re almost ready. I’m starving!” She smiles at Tim. “Get inside and make yourself at home.” And with that, she moves past us to greet her mother.

Tim waits until we’re alone before he says, “Can we talk? About everything. Please.”

“Sure,” I say, using my foot to push open the door behind me so he gets a good view of how many people are there. “If you don’t mind waiting. I’m sure Allison would love to finally meet you. A couple guys from school are coming by later. It’ll be fun.”

I expect him to make an excuse and flee. Instead he clenches his jaw a few times before nodding. “All right.”

I scoff at this. “I’m not going to swear them to secrecy. People might find out that you were here.”

He struggles with this before nodding again. “Okay.”

I stare in disbelief. Then I step aside. “Right this way.”

Allison’s eyes practically bug out when she notices who’s trailing along behind me, but she quickly puts on a friendly smile. “This is an unexpected surprise,” she says, a hint of a question in her gaze when she glances at me.

I’m not sure how I feel about him being here, so I shrug. “Allison, this is Tim.”

“Hey,” he says, grinning in a way that’s smarmy. “I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

“Name three,” she replies.

That catches him off guard. Allison will keep Tim on his toes while I’m busy. I have to greet my grandmother, and once I have, I’m ushered toward the table of presents so I can begin opening them. Most people blow out their candles first. Not us. We were always too impatient as kids, so it’s become a family tradition to do it in reverse. I get things I want and some stuff that I don’t, but the sentiment is appreciated either way. To be honest, most of it barely registers. After unwrapping each gift, I express my gratitude before my attention returns to Tim. At first he seems uncomfortable, often engaged in conversation with my relatives, but eventually he loosens up and seems more like the guy I know. At the moment he’s chatting with Allison. I’m dying to know what they’re talking about. I’ll get a full report later, no doubt.

“All right, everyone,” my father says. “It’s time for cake!”

“Not yet!” my mother cries, gesturing at Tim to come closer. “We have one more present.”

“That’s all right,” he says dismissively. “It can wait.”

“Don’t be silly,” she replies. “Bring it here.”

Allison gives him a little push. Tim’s face is red as the whole family turns toward him. The present is about three feet tall. I keep thinking it’s the painting off his bedroom wall, but it looks too big. He pulls out a chair to set his gift on the seat, so I’ll have an easier time tearing off the paper. I waste no time in doing so, revealing wild strokes of thickly applied paint. The colors vary, most of them warm, but orange is the most dominate. Especially the heart in the center, which blazes with a fiery passion. Beautiful, but also kind of lonely, until I notice the edge of blue behind it outlining another heart in its shadow. Tim’s eyes are guarded. Mine are wet with emotion, because whatever his intent, it’s an acknowledgement of how intensely I burn for him. And perhaps is a promise that I’m not alone.

“Isn’t that gorgeous?” my mother enthuses. “Did you paint it yourself?”

“I hope so!” my sister interjects. “I can’t imagine anyone paying money for it.”

“Karen!” my mother scolds before shaking her head helplessly. “Where did we go wrong with you?”

“She’s always had a critical eye,” my father says. “Not many people do.”

“There’s your answer,” my mother murmurs to herself.

“It’s gorgeous,” I whisper to Tim.

“Really?” he asks, as if he truly doesn’t know.

I consider the canvas again and am so moved that I have to wipe at my eyes. “I love it.”

He smiles in relief and opens his mouth again, as if there’s more he wants to say, before he glances around self-consciously.

“Later,” I promise him.

Tim’s face lights up, like he just received a gift of his own. I place the painting out of harm’s way. Then I turn my attention to my father, who carries a cake toward me while everyone sings. When they reach the end of the song, I wait. Allison belts out an extra verse all on her own, like she does each year, and it’s stunning. Especially after the untrained voices of my relatives. Everyone breaks into applause.

“Okay, okay,” I say over this. “She’s great, but let’s not forget whose special day this is!”

I wink at Allison before filling my lungs with air. You only get one birthday wish a year. I always make sure to spend them wisely. My eyes move to Tim, and I don’t try to hide how I feel.Him, I think.That’s all I want.I focus on the candles and blow them all out on my first try.