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strange way it’s not enough. There’s got to be more. Morefood. More dancing. More time. They’re already bringing out the birthday cake. Everyone knows the party ends once the cake is served. Why are they bringing out the cake? Can it really be three hours into the party?
    Then comes one more toast. It’s the toast that almost ruins the evening.
    Of Lev’s many brothers and sisters, Marcus has been the quietest all evening. It’s unlike him. Lev should have known something was going to happen. Lev, at thirteen, is the youngest of ten. Marcus, at twenty-eight, is the oldest. He flew halfway across the country to be here at Lev’s tithing party, and yet he’s barely danced, or spoken, or been a part of any of the festivities. He’s also drunk. Lev has never seen Marcus drunk.
    It happens after the formal toasts are given, when Lev’s cake is being cut and distributed. It doesn’t start as a toast; it starts as just a moment between brothers.
    â€œCongrats, little bro,” Marcus says, giving him a powerful hug. Lev can smell the alcohol on Marcus’s breath. “Today you’re a man. Sort of.”
    Their father, sitting at the head table just a few feet away, lets out a nervous chuckle.
    â€œThanks . . . sort of,” Lev responds. He glances at his parents. His father waits to see what’s coming next. His mother’s pinched expression makes Lev feel tense.
    Marcus stares at Lev with a smile that doesn’t hold any of the emotion a smile usually comes with. “What do you think of all this?” he asks Lev.
    â€œIt’s great.”
    â€œOf course it is! All these people here for you? It’s an amazing night. Amazing!”
    â€œYeah,” says Lev. He’s not sure where this is going, but he knows it’s going somewhere. “I’m having the time of my life.”
    â€œDamn right! The time of your life! Gotta wrap up all thoselife events, all those parties, into one—birthdays, wedding, funeral.” Then he turns to their father. “Very efficient, right, Dad?”
    â€œThat’s enough,” their father says quietly, but it only makes Marcus get louder.
    â€œWhat? I’m not allowed to talk about it? Oh, that’s right—this is a celebration. I almost forgot.”
    Lev wants Marcus to stop, but at the same time he doesn’t.
    Mom stands up and says in a voice more forceful than Dad’s, “Marcus, sit down. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
    By now everyone in the banquet hall has stopped whatever they were doing and are tuned in to the unfolding family drama. Marcus, seeing he has the room’s attention, picks up someone’s half-empty glass of champagne, and holds it high. “Here’s to my brother, Lev,” Marcus says. “And to our parents! Who have always done the right thing. The appropriate thing. Who have always given generously to charity. Who have always given 10 percent of everything to our church. Hey, Mom—we’re lucky you had ten kids instead of five, otherwise we’d end up having to cut Lev off at the waist!”
    Gasps from all those assembled. People shaking their heads. Such disappointing behavior from an eldest son.
    Now Dad comes up and grabs Marcus’s arm tightly. “You’re done!” Dad says. “Sit down.”
    Marcus shakes Dad’s arm off. “Oh, I’ll do better than sit down.” Now there are tears in Marcus’s eyes as he turns to Lev. “I love you, bro . . . and I know this is your special day. But I can’t be a part of this.” He hurls the champagne glass against the wall, where it shatters, spraying fragments of crystal all over the buffet table. Then he turns and storms out with such steady confidence in his stride that Lev realizes he’s not drunk at all.
    Lev’s father signals the band and they kick into a dance number even before Marcus is gone from the