The Birthday Room Read Online Free PDF Page A

saying.
    â€œ. . . and it’s a feeling I can summon up immediately,” she finished, and then she, too, saw the sky over his shoulder and out the window, and couldn’t help but smile.

Part Two
    THERE

    Â 
    4
    S AME WALK , same hands, same worried forehead. Same droop of the shoulders, same tilt of the head.
    Ben recognized his uncle instantly, because looking at the man approaching them in the airport terminal was like looking at his mother through the dense, swirly glass of the French doors between the living room and dining room.
    Same long nose, same pale gray eyes, same thin coppery hair.
    The three of them took in one another without blinking, saying nothing. After a long moment, Ben said shyly, “Uncle Ian,” and stepped forward. His mother shadowed him, joining him in a tentative hug with Ian. The uncle. The brother.
    Three voices all at once: “Hi.” “Hi.” “Hi.”
    And then Ian said firmly, “I am so happy to see you. Both,” he added in a whisper. His eyes seemed to be following an invisible bird from Ben’s mother’s shoes to Ben’s shoulder to an exit sign above their heads and away. He rubbed his chin, then ran his thumb along his eyebrow.
    Ben’s mother nodded with pursed lips.
    â€œMe, too,” said Ben. Suddenly he became aware of his hand and jammed it into his pocket. But that seemed awkward. He pulled it out, letting it drop at his side like a weight.
    â€œIt’s too bad that Ed couldn’t come with you,” said Ian.
    â€œYes,” said Ben’s mother. “He wanted to. The store, you know. Someone had to be there.”
    Ian coughed. “I know.”
    â€œHe sends his love.”
    They hadn’t moved. The waiting area was emptying. People rushed by, alone and in clusters, colored blurs vanishing down the long hallway. At the fringe of his vision, Ben spotted a joyful reunion with tears and hugs and balloons and flowers and flashing cameras and a banner that read WELCOME HOME, BUNNY ! Ben hadn’t quite pictured that grand a production for his mother and uncle, but he had expected something more than what was happening right now.
    â€œMy throat’s dry,” said Ben’s mother. “I could use some water. I’ll be right back.” She left them, walking briskly toward a drinking fountain several yards behind them.
    Ben and Ian waited.
    Ian shook his head. “You’re all grown up.”
    â€œYou are, too,” Ben replied automatically. He couldn’t believe how stupid he sounded. He blushed, his eyes circling shyly as if a proper response were hanging in the air. “I mean, you’re a real person.” The tips of his ears were bright red. Just as stupid, he thought.
    â€œYes, I am,” said Ian, laughing.
    The laughter broke the ice, released tension, and Ben laughed as well.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” asked Ben’s mother as she rejoined them. The corner of her mouth was wet and glistened when she stepped into the light. Her shoulder bag brushed against Ben’s arm.
    â€œOh, nothing,” said Ian.
    â€œNothing,” echoed Ben.
    â€œLet’s get your luggage and head out,” said Ian. “You two must be exhausted.”
    The scent of pine laced the air, and the air was clear and cool and very different from the air in Wisconsin. Ben took deep breaths until he was light headed. He shivered.
    He shivered again in the car, then sat absolutely still. His mother had nudged him into the front seat, saying, “You’ll be able to see better. I’ll sit in the back.”
    It’s night, Ben thought, there isn’t much to see.
    The dark world out the windshield was open and big. Miles and miles away, a light was moving across the sky. The space inside the car was made smaller by the uncertainty of how things would turn out and by what seemed like shyness to Ben. Shyness all around. But how could a brother and a sister