The following is original fiction by Jeremy Glazer. Jeremy is a regular 港澳天下彩contributor.
Every year, on his birthday, for the last twenty-three years, Robert Simmons called the number.
856-3543.
But no one had ever answered before.
鈥淗ello, Robert鈥檚 Western Wear,鈥� the voice says, in mock cowboy accent dissolving into a cascade of giggles.
Robert鈥檚 chest gets tight. At first he thinks it鈥檚 hearing the name of a long-gone Miami store that provokes the feeling of slight unease. But then, he recognizes the voice. It is as unmistakable as it is impossible.
856-3543.
Robert had grown up with that number. Memorized it in kindergarten. The first part was easy鈥攊t was the same for all his neighbors in Shenandoah. This was back when the first three numbers still told which part of town was home. 445 was the Gables. 891, North Miami. 531 the Beach.
And you didn鈥檛 have to dial an area code. Now there鈥檚 a 305 or 786, or a 646 even though someone might be two blocks away. You never know where anyone is anymore. Numbers and people are free-floating. Back then, things were deeply rooted. Your phone number could place you. Like an accent.
Robert鈥檚 old number hadn鈥檛 been his for years. He鈥檇 gone to college, moved away, settled back, bought a house, had kids. He had lived a life, and those digits were a world away, except for the annual birthday calls.
His parents both died suddenly, within a year of each other, while Robert was away at college. Robert started to call his old number on that first birthday without them. He called in desperation more than anything else that first time. He was a senior. He didn鈥檛 know where he was going and he wanted his old, comfortable life back, if only for one phone call. Since then, the ritual of calling his parents on his birthday had become sacred.
While the word orphan felt silly at his age, the fact of no parents still made Robert feel like a child sometimes. Particularly on this day. It didn鈥檛 take a therapist to figure out why he kept calling that number. He wanted his parents to know who he had become.
Usually, he鈥檇 let it ring five or six times then hang up and go about his day. This time, there鈥檚 an answer.
鈥淚 said Robert鈥檚 Western Wearrrrrrrrrrrr,鈥� and then Robert hears the phone drop. There鈥檚 some noise in the background, familiar voices, furniture being moved, cooking sounds.
It鈥檚 me, Robert thinks, and just as quickly, it can鈥檛 be me, that would be...
鈥淩obert鈥檚 Western Wear. Wanna buy a cowboy hat, pardner? Lasssssssst chance.鈥�
It鈥檚 unmistakable. That鈥檚 how he answered the phone for almost a year after his parents had driven him to that store. They went a few weeks before his sixth birthday to get a cowboy hat for the big party. He had just learned to read and was so excited to have his name on a sign somewhere.
Say something, Robert thinks to himself. Then he has an idea, remembering his 6th birthday party and who wasn鈥檛 there.
鈥淗ey there, Robbie,鈥� Robert says.
鈥淒addy! I knew you鈥檇 call for my birthday! Are you getting me more presents in New York?? Are you done with the work trip yet? Come home!鈥�
鈥淣o, no. Not yet. I鈥檒l be back soon with lots of presents.鈥�
鈥淥K. But no Jets stuff. I like the Dolphins. I know you like the Jets, but I hate them Dad.鈥�
鈥淥K, Robbie. OK.鈥�
鈥淲e鈥檙e getting ready for the big party, Dad. We鈥檙e having puppets, and a pi帽ata, and croquetas. Do you know what a pi帽ata is, Dad? I was at Javier鈥檚 party last week and they had one and I wanted one and he speaks Spanish and Mom said I can have one even though I don鈥檛 speak Spanish but I decided I鈥檓 going to learn, because Aunt Sandy says everyone here is going to speak Spanish soon.鈥�
鈥淵eah, I鈥檝e seen a pi帽ata.鈥�
鈥淲ell鈥� you bash it and bash it and then all this candy comes out. And croquetas look like little fat fingers but they鈥檙e really, really good and that鈥檚 why I want to learn Spanish, because there鈥檚 guavas too. Do you want to talk to Mom?鈥�
鈥淚 want to talk to her more than anything in the world, Robbie.鈥�
鈥淲ait here,鈥� little Robbie says, insistently.
Robert鈥檚 heart is pounding as he hears the background sounds, the preparations. He still knows that party from the super 8 movie he鈥檚 watched a hundred times and shown his own family鈥攖he fold-up tables in the backyard under the avocado tree, his mom in a white skirt, the Carvel cake, the pi帽ata.
He hears steps coming up to the phone and feels his throat start to close. An impossible chance. That鈥檚 what he鈥檚 going to get for his birthday. He can tell his mom what he鈥檚 done, what they did. Just a few words is all he wants. Somehow he鈥檒l make her believe. Somehow he鈥檒l make her know.
He hears the phone being picked up. He breathes in, ready for the voice he hasn鈥檛 heard for decades.
鈥淢ommie鈥檚 cooking. She says call back after the party.鈥� And then, after a pause, little Robbie tells what must be one of his first lies. 鈥淒addy, she told me to tell you not to get me any Jets stuff either.鈥�
Robert laughs. But he鈥檚 crying now a little too.
鈥淥K, Robbie鈥� he says.
鈥淚 gotta go, Dad. I have to put on my cowboy shirt.鈥�
鈥淲ait, Robbie. Wait one second.鈥�
He gathers himself.
鈥淲hat Dad? I gotta gooooooooooooo.鈥�
鈥淕ive your mother a big hug for me. And a kiss. Remember to always give your mother big hugs and kisses.鈥�
He pauses. There鈥檚 so much more he wants to say, but all that comes out is
鈥淎nd Robbie, stay away from girls named Stacy.鈥�
鈥淥OOOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK, Daddy.鈥� little Robbie says. 鈥淏yyyyyyyyyyyyye!鈥�
Robert waits until the phone is dead and sits absolutely still for almost a minute. Then, with a deep breath he stands up from the tree swing in his front yard and heads back toward the house. He pauses for a second, though, and looks, sees it all as his six-year-old self might have seen it.
It was something, wasn鈥檛 it? Two stories. His own avocado tree. A sportscar with New York Jets plates鈥攊n his dad鈥檚 honor. A wife, a couple of daughters. He鈥檇 made it.
Robert stands up a little straighter and then catches a glimpse through his bay window of a ladder inside. His wife is on top, and his oldest, Maria, stands at the bottom handing her mom something to hang. It looks like a balloon for a second, but then it becomes clear what they were putting up for Robert on this, his 45th birthday.
In his wife鈥檚 hands is a pi帽ata.
The music in this piece is by another Miami native, guitarist Aaron Lebos. You can find out more about Aaron and his new project, Aaron Lebos Reality, .
