The Romantics(12)

He stared at her, shocked. “A birthday present?” he whispered angrily. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Just take it,” she said. “I had to order it special.”

She shoved it into his hands and smiled.

“What’s that?” his mom asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Vertigo!” his mom said. “I introduced this to you, Gael, remember?”

“I know, Mom,” he said.

She took it out of his hands. “Deluxe edition and everything. What a thoughtful gift. Is this from you, Anika?”

“Yes, Mrs. Brennan,” Anika said sweetly. She sounded so fake. Had she always sounded so fake? Gael wondered.

“Well, you sure know Gael, I’ll say that much,” his mom said. “He loves old movies. Unlike Arthur.”

In the past, his dad would have responded by delivering an impassioned argument about why new movies were so much better than old ones, but his parents didn’t have those types of playful discussions anymore. His dad just shrugged.

“I never watched any Hitchcock before Gael got me into it,” Anika said. Her voice was super high-pitched, about an octave higher than normal. Mason, for his part, was staring at his fork, avoiding everyone.

“It’s not that amazing to buy a movie,” Gael said. “One click on Amazon. Boom. Anyone could do it.”

His mom gasped. “Gael. I think it was a very thoughtful gift from your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he spat.

Everyone went quiet, looking at him like he’d just farted, including perfect little gift-giving Anika. She stared at him like this was somehow his fault.

Gael didn’t want to do this here, not in front of his family—and Mason and Sammy and the whole freaking restaurant—but he couldn’t stop. “You seriously think a stupid gift will fix everything?”

“Gael, stop.” Anika’s eyes started to well with tears. “Don’t do this.”

Gael threw his hands into the air. “It’s not even from the Criterion Collection!”

“They don’t have Vertigo in Criterion,” Anika said meekly.

“Well, if you really knew me, you’d know I’d have wanted to wait until it comes out in Criterion,” he said, his voice fully a yell now.

“Hey, come on, dude,” Mason said, placing a hand on the back of Anika’s chair.

Anika didn’t look at Mason. Instead, she closed her mouth and put on her saddest, feel-bad-for-me eyes and said: “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Of course you didn’t. You two only think about yourselves.”

Gael turned to face his audience. “Guess what, family? Since we’re all here together, watching me have a total breakdown, you might as well know that she cheated on me! With him!” He pointed to Mason.

For the briefest of moments, Gael saw a look of shock pass across his dad’s face—or was it actually guilt? Gael paused. His parents had never given him a reason for why they’d split, and over the past couple of weeks, Gael had started to wonder if it might be his dad’s fault. His dad had taken to running into his bedroom when his phone rang, answering with the door firmly shut, almost like he had something to hide. Maybe his own father was no better than Mason or Anika.

But he didn’t have time to figure it out. Because that’s when the waiter came out with a caterpillar roll with a lit candle in it, a group of people around him, singing in Japanese to the tune of the “Happy Birthday” song.

(I’d tried to delay this: In the kitchen, the candle went out no fewer than four times due to a mysteriously overactive exhaust fan, but unfortunately, all the waiters had lighters in their pockets.)

Gael pushed his chair back and jumped up before anyone could stop him. He tried to avoid the eyes of his parents and Sammy and his little sister, but it was impossible not to see the shock and confusion on their faces. He attempted to make a break for it, but the waiters had surrounded him, their chanting morphing from the birthday song into “Make a wish! Make a wish!”

Gael glared down at the celebratory sushi roll in front of him. “Fine, sure. I’ll make a wish.” The waiters cut off their refrain, the restaurant suddenly unnaturally silent—other diners had finally caught on that something more interesting was happening than the average birthday party. But Gael was far past caring about making a scene. He squeezed his eyes shut, and with a big exhale, blew out the lone candle. He made a big show of opening his eyes and looking around the table expectantly.

“Nope,” Gale pronounced. “You’re all still here. Guess it didn’t come true.”

Then he pushed through the waiters and stormed out of the restaurant.

(I told you Romantics were dramatic.)





love and the art of relationship maintenance


At this point in the narrative, I might as well come clean about my not-so-little mistake. In order for you to understand the gravity of the situation, I must delve ever so briefly into the past.

In the midnineties, I encouraged the romance of two young intellectual types in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. It was a good relationship, one in which I had utmost faith. These two were freaking perfect for each other.

I probably don’t have to tell you this, but they were Gael’s parents. One of my favorite success stories, to be honest.