Post by Christian Moynahan on Dec 29, 2014 23:44:19 GMT -5
We drink to your coffin. May it be built from the wood of a
hundred year old oak tree that I shall plant tomorrow.
-Irish birthday blessing
29 December 2014
The reason for Christian’s visit to Áine was simple. He was checking his mail. There was a Christmas card he was expecting but had not yet received. He knew his mother usually sent the card to arrive the day before Christmas. This was the twenty-ninth, four days late. And, coincidentally, Christian’s birthday.
Christian’s family had never celebrated his birthday. They were too frugal for that. Sandwiched as it was between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, Christian’s birthday tended to pick up the leftovers. His Christmas gifts were also his birthday gifts, and any cake or treats he got were the same that were served at the New Year’s party his family always gave.
The first special recognition anyone had given Christian’s birthday had been from what was then an unlikely source, one Maurelle Lacroix. It hardly felt as though a year had passed since then… and he hardly felt as though he were thirty-five.
Unlike that of most people, Christian’s life had gone more or less how he had expected. He was now the head of a multimillion-dollar and now mostly respected corporation, where he was able to work and experiment as he wished, where every day brought a new and exciting challenge. Marriage and children had never factored into it. His family likely felt differently, he thought, but, well, while he did love them, he did as he wished, not what they wanted.
Rather than bother Alain, who was deep in the middle of an Ark project, Christian had simply driven himself from Ark headquarters to Áine. The tall, dark-haired half-Irishman was no longer an uncommon sight in the neighborhood, nor was his white Honda Civic, which, inexplicably, he still drove despite being able to easily afford three Ferraris.
After securing his car in the double garage he only used half of, Christian made his way over to the mailbox. There were a few bills, but, surprisingly, also two cards, both from his mother, one for Christmas and one for his birthday. He decided he was either dreaming or going mad. Nevertheless, he took the mail into the house and set it on his living room table to read in a few minutes.
His cell phone rang as he returned from the bathroom. The name that appeared on the screen surprised him. Curious, he picked up the call and answered cautiously. “Hello?”
“Hello, Christian. Happy birthday.” His mother’s voice, despite being filtered through technology, was unmistakeable.
Yeah. Probably dreaming.
“Thank you, Mother,” Christian answered, still cautious. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’ve been well.” She sounded as though she was in a moving car. “And you, darling?”
“I’m doing well.” That was his default response. “And the family? How are they?”
“Oh, just fine. They wish you a happy birthday too. And a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Did you get our cards?”
“I did, just now. Haven’t had a chance to read them yet.” Heading back into the living room, Christian picked up the envelopes and settled into a sofa.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Whenever you have time. Just remember to keep in touch. And tell me about your life. I don’t want to just read about it in the papers.”
“Will do, Mother.” Christian found himself smiling. “You keep in touch too.”
“I will, darling. Until then, you-“
The doorbell rang. “Hold on, Mom,” Christian said, getting to his feet. “There’s someone at the door. Give me just a moment to find out who it is.”
“Of course.” There was something in his mother’s tone that sounded strange, and when Christian opened the front door, he realized why.
With a look that was part laugh and part smirk, Christian’s mother tapped her phone, ending the call.
“You…” Christian took a moment to process the sight. His mother was standing in front of his father and sister. His mother chuckled.
“A simple ‘Hello’ would work, darling,” she said to the still-shocked Christian. He stammered out something that might have been a greeting.
Definitely dreaming.
“I see you’ve managed to keep house well enough,” Mrs. Moynahan commented once she and her husband had settled in with drinks. Cameron had left to buy a fresh birthday cake. “And this certainly is a big house.”
“It is,” Christian said with a chuckle. “I didn’t pick it out. My partner Gabriel did.”
“It’s a family home, just like the rest of the ones on this block,” she went on. “When do you plan on settling down?”
Christian Moynahan was tongue-tied. Truly, only his mother could do this to him. “I hadn’t exactly set a date, Mother.”
“Oh, don’t be coy. You know what I meant.” Mrs. Moynahan gave him a sly look. Christian glanced at his father with a look that said get me out of this!!!
“He’ll come around in his own time,” Mr. Moynahan offered. “He’s still young, and look at him. He’s our son, and he’s made us proud. Any woman would want him.”
“Oh, I know,” Mrs. Moynahan said in that almost-pleading tone, reaching for Christian’s hands. “It’s just that… well, darling, you’re thirty-five now.”
“We didn’t come here to tell him that,” Mr. Moynahan interrupted. “We’re just here to celebrate his birthday. Back down, woman.”
Mrs. Moynahan laughed. “At least you don’t live near us, Christian. Cameron gets this from me all the time. It’s only fair.”
“I suppose.” Christian let himself chuckle. If a little tensely.
The doorbell rang then, and Mr. Moynahan got up to let Cameron in. “We found your dining room,” Cameron called.
Christian helped his mother up and led her to the dining room. There, Cameron was lighting candles in the shapes of a 3 and a 5. “Sorry,” Cameron said with a lopsided grin. “We couldn’t fit thirty-five candles on the cake without setting off your smoke alarm.”
“Thanks for the show of caring,” Christian said dryly, giving his little sister a big hug. “I’ve missed you, Cam.”
“Yeah, right, Chris,” she shot back, punching him lightly in the arm. “Okay, maybe I’ve missed you too.”
Mrs. Moynahan was peering at Christian. “Are you sure there isn’t a woman in your life, Christian? Or a man?”
“I never said that,” Christian said, in a much better humor now.
“Ooooh,” Cam said, bouncing. “Do we get to meet her? Or him?”
“No,” Christian said, giving her a light shove. “Now let me blow out these candles.”
Each Moynahan raised a glass. “May your glass be ever full,” Mr. Moynahan said, in Gaelic. “May the roof over your head be always strong, and may you be in Heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead!”
“May the doctor never earn a cent out of you!” Cameron declared.
Mrs. Moynahan nodded. “And may the Good Lord take a liking to you…”
They all shouted, “But not too soon!”
They touched glasses, drank deep, and cheered as Christian blew out the candles. Then the whole group came together for a hug, for ruffled hair and pats on the back. “Happy birthday, Christian!”
And for the first time in years - decades - Christian felt as though he had a real, blood family.
Christian’s family had never celebrated his birthday. They were too frugal for that. Sandwiched as it was between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, Christian’s birthday tended to pick up the leftovers. His Christmas gifts were also his birthday gifts, and any cake or treats he got were the same that were served at the New Year’s party his family always gave.
The first special recognition anyone had given Christian’s birthday had been from what was then an unlikely source, one Maurelle Lacroix. It hardly felt as though a year had passed since then… and he hardly felt as though he were thirty-five.
Unlike that of most people, Christian’s life had gone more or less how he had expected. He was now the head of a multimillion-dollar and now mostly respected corporation, where he was able to work and experiment as he wished, where every day brought a new and exciting challenge. Marriage and children had never factored into it. His family likely felt differently, he thought, but, well, while he did love them, he did as he wished, not what they wanted.
Rather than bother Alain, who was deep in the middle of an Ark project, Christian had simply driven himself from Ark headquarters to Áine. The tall, dark-haired half-Irishman was no longer an uncommon sight in the neighborhood, nor was his white Honda Civic, which, inexplicably, he still drove despite being able to easily afford three Ferraris.
After securing his car in the double garage he only used half of, Christian made his way over to the mailbox. There were a few bills, but, surprisingly, also two cards, both from his mother, one for Christmas and one for his birthday. He decided he was either dreaming or going mad. Nevertheless, he took the mail into the house and set it on his living room table to read in a few minutes.
His cell phone rang as he returned from the bathroom. The name that appeared on the screen surprised him. Curious, he picked up the call and answered cautiously. “Hello?”
“Hello, Christian. Happy birthday.” His mother’s voice, despite being filtered through technology, was unmistakeable.
Yeah. Probably dreaming.
“Thank you, Mother,” Christian answered, still cautious. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’ve been well.” She sounded as though she was in a moving car. “And you, darling?”
“I’m doing well.” That was his default response. “And the family? How are they?”
“Oh, just fine. They wish you a happy birthday too. And a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Did you get our cards?”
“I did, just now. Haven’t had a chance to read them yet.” Heading back into the living room, Christian picked up the envelopes and settled into a sofa.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Whenever you have time. Just remember to keep in touch. And tell me about your life. I don’t want to just read about it in the papers.”
“Will do, Mother.” Christian found himself smiling. “You keep in touch too.”
“I will, darling. Until then, you-“
The doorbell rang. “Hold on, Mom,” Christian said, getting to his feet. “There’s someone at the door. Give me just a moment to find out who it is.”
“Of course.” There was something in his mother’s tone that sounded strange, and when Christian opened the front door, he realized why.
With a look that was part laugh and part smirk, Christian’s mother tapped her phone, ending the call.
“You…” Christian took a moment to process the sight. His mother was standing in front of his father and sister. His mother chuckled.
“A simple ‘Hello’ would work, darling,” she said to the still-shocked Christian. He stammered out something that might have been a greeting.
Definitely dreaming.
~~~
“I see you’ve managed to keep house well enough,” Mrs. Moynahan commented once she and her husband had settled in with drinks. Cameron had left to buy a fresh birthday cake. “And this certainly is a big house.”
“It is,” Christian said with a chuckle. “I didn’t pick it out. My partner Gabriel did.”
“It’s a family home, just like the rest of the ones on this block,” she went on. “When do you plan on settling down?”
Christian Moynahan was tongue-tied. Truly, only his mother could do this to him. “I hadn’t exactly set a date, Mother.”
“Oh, don’t be coy. You know what I meant.” Mrs. Moynahan gave him a sly look. Christian glanced at his father with a look that said get me out of this!!!
“He’ll come around in his own time,” Mr. Moynahan offered. “He’s still young, and look at him. He’s our son, and he’s made us proud. Any woman would want him.”
“Oh, I know,” Mrs. Moynahan said in that almost-pleading tone, reaching for Christian’s hands. “It’s just that… well, darling, you’re thirty-five now.”
“We didn’t come here to tell him that,” Mr. Moynahan interrupted. “We’re just here to celebrate his birthday. Back down, woman.”
Mrs. Moynahan laughed. “At least you don’t live near us, Christian. Cameron gets this from me all the time. It’s only fair.”
“I suppose.” Christian let himself chuckle. If a little tensely.
The doorbell rang then, and Mr. Moynahan got up to let Cameron in. “We found your dining room,” Cameron called.
Christian helped his mother up and led her to the dining room. There, Cameron was lighting candles in the shapes of a 3 and a 5. “Sorry,” Cameron said with a lopsided grin. “We couldn’t fit thirty-five candles on the cake without setting off your smoke alarm.”
“Thanks for the show of caring,” Christian said dryly, giving his little sister a big hug. “I’ve missed you, Cam.”
“Yeah, right, Chris,” she shot back, punching him lightly in the arm. “Okay, maybe I’ve missed you too.”
Mrs. Moynahan was peering at Christian. “Are you sure there isn’t a woman in your life, Christian? Or a man?”
“I never said that,” Christian said, in a much better humor now.
“Ooooh,” Cam said, bouncing. “Do we get to meet her? Or him?”
“No,” Christian said, giving her a light shove. “Now let me blow out these candles.”
Each Moynahan raised a glass. “May your glass be ever full,” Mr. Moynahan said, in Gaelic. “May the roof over your head be always strong, and may you be in Heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead!”
“May the doctor never earn a cent out of you!” Cameron declared.
Mrs. Moynahan nodded. “And may the Good Lord take a liking to you…”
They all shouted, “But not too soon!”
They touched glasses, drank deep, and cheered as Christian blew out the candles. Then the whole group came together for a hug, for ruffled hair and pats on the back. “Happy birthday, Christian!”
And for the first time in years - decades - Christian felt as though he had a real, blood family.
Birthday toasts!
