Jeff had always hated birthdays. Ever since his adolescence, when he'd still camped out by the letterbox all day hoping in vain for a letter, or better a present, to arrive from his absent father, he'd never seen any reason to celebrate the occasion. This one, though, was proving even more miserable than usual.
Fifty years old. No matter how many times those words reverberated around his skull, he couldn't quite believe it was true. Jeff Winger was not a reflective person. Indeed, he prided himself in his ability to shut out inconvenient or unsettling thoughts. He'd lived his life day-by-day, minute-by-minute, rarely troubling himself to think about the future. But today, those nagging doubts that he'd previously banished to the outer reaches of his brain, where they were unable to force him into any kind of self-examination, were proving impossible to hold back.
At fifty years old he should've been at the peak of his powers. If he'd bothered to ask himself at the age of thirty where he'd want to be by this stage in his life, it wouldn't be where he found himself right now. His legal career had stagnated. Having ditched teaching at Greendale to return to his cherished profession a couple of years after Annie had left, he'd found himself unable to make partner. Instead, he was stuck doing the same work as much younger and far inferior lawyers. No law firm was willing to risk its reputation by promoting a Greendale alumnus to so lofty a position.
Of course, there was still a silver lining. Even without his yearned-for promotion he earned far more than he, lacking a family, could spend. Furthermore, his good looks remained intact and he could still find casual sex when he wanted it, as he often did. Although even this was becoming more difficult: most women his age had long since moved on from casual hookups and one night stands.
He let out an involuntary sigh and poured himself a generous helping of thirty-year-old Glenfiddich scotch. He'd been saving it for this occasion, anticipating that he'd need something to raise his spirits on this most demoralising of birthdays. The rich, leathery flavour of his favourite drink immediately made him feel better, leaving behind it that familiar burning sensation. He smiled despite himself: a fine, expensive scotch could remedy any mallady.
Placing his glass on the living room table and collapsing onto the sofa behind it, Jeff whipped his phone from his pocket. He was relieved not to see any messages waiting for him. Aside from his elderly mother, nobody had been touch to offer their good wishes all day. Jeff's birthday was a closely guarded secret; he had no desire for his coworkers or friends to track his advancing years. Not even the study group had got in touch. Whether that was due to tactfulness on their part or the fact that they hadn't been in touch for a while, he wasn't sure. Regardless, he felt grateful: as far as he was concerned, the fewer people who reminded him of his age, the better.
Lazily, he grabbed the remote and awakened the TV. He flicked idly through the channels, browsing for some football or baseball or basketball or anything mindless. There was nothing much on, though, so he settled for CNN, turning the volume down close to its minimum while Wolf Blitzer interrogated some politician on his show about the unfolding Syrian crisis that Jeff had vaguely heard about but not bothered to actually understand. Jeff had only infrequently left Colorado over the course of his life; he felt little obligation to learn about happenings halfway around the world.
That thought thrust another dagger into his psyche. Fifty years old, and he'd barely left his home state, let alone seen the world. Abed was in Los Angeles, Annie in D.C, Britta somewhere in South America (last he checked). He didn't even know where Troy might be. Of study group, besides himself, only Shirley still dwelled in Colorado and she had an excuse for not having moved: namely, a large, happy family. Grimacing, he took another sip of scotch.
"Here to speak to us about the Administration's Syria policy is Annie Edison, deputy spokesperson for the State Department," Wolf Blitzer said.
Jeff's eyes shot from his scotch to the television at the mention of his cherished but long-lost friend, convinced his brain was deceiving him. Yet, clear as day, Annie's beaming face appeared on the television. Jeff found himself speechless, a rarity in his life.
He hadn't spoken to Annie for years and hadn't seen her in the flesh since she left Greendale for the FBI internship. In the first few years after she'd left, they'd exchanged the occasional text message, but those had gradually dried up. Jeff, to his own shame, had been careful to avoid her whenever she'd returned to Colorado, embarrassed by the fact that his career had remained static while hers had ascended so rapidly. For a while, he'd obsessively (and somewhat jealously) tracked her career progress, watching as she earned a permanent job at the FBI and then seemingly annual promotions on account of her work ethic and ability. However, he'd ultimately stopped following her progression, realising that it was only making him feel worse about his own prospects (or lack thereof). Since then, evidently, she had been poached by the State Department from the FBI and now, at the age of only thirty-five, was speaking for the federal government about Syria on live television.
Jeff felt sick to his stomach. He placed his scotch back on the table and slid it away, unable to stomach any more. He felt an odd combination of pride and jealousy: pride that his Annie had risen so high in American political life in so little time, but jealousy that the woman he had formerly patronised and patted on the head had so easily surpassed him. It felt like a taunt: forced to watch his old friend flourish in the very prime of her life, at the exact moment that his was falling headfirst into terminal decline.
On the TV, Blitzer, peering over his glasses, shot a question at Annie. "What exactly is the Administration doing to alleviate the humanitarian situation in Syria?"
Annie launched into her response. "That's a great question, Wolf. I can tell you that the Secretary of State has contacted the Syrian president today, urging him to stop this needless bloodshed and to come to the negotiating table. We want to emphasise that the most sustainable way of improving the humanitarian situation in Syria is to end the fighting altogether. However, in the meantime, we will be providing $100 million for vital supplies in Lebanese refugee camps, on top of $50 million in medicines…"
Jeff listened as she fluently concluded her argument, reeling off statistic after statistic and fact after fact. She seemed so much more self-assured than at Greendale, though still falling far short of arrogance. Her performance reminded him of their partnership in the debating competition during their first year, when her impeccable preparation combined with her natural instinct had won them the day. She still looked like the Annie he'd known a decade ago. Her rich brown hair was still shoulder-length and straight; her eyes still displayed both an innate softness and that unmistakable iron glint of determination. She'd ditched her trademark cardigan for a more formal attire. In totality, she still looked great: the form and features that Jeff had found so illicitly attractive ten years ago had scarcely changed.
A wave of insecurity tumbling over him, Jeff sprung up and strode with a slightly panicked air to the full-length mirror in his bathroom. Examining himself, he scrutinised his own features for signs of his age. He had aged slightly more than Annie. His hair was somewhat thinner than it had been (though this could be obscured with carefully applied gel) and dark bags had begun to develop under his eyes, making him look slightly weary. He was relieved to acknowledge, however, that he still looked good for his age. His skin was taut rather than wrinkled. His physique remained athletic, Jeff having intensified rather than laxened his strict dietary and exercise regime as his years accumulated. His carefully maintained stubble accentuated his sharp, chiselled jawline. His smile remained smooth and charming. Reassured, Jeff returned to his sofa to watch the conclusion of Annie's interview.
Her brow was furrowed as Blitzer pushed her on the Administration's approval of arms sales to Saudi Arabia. Jeff thought he detected a moment's hesitation from his old friend as she set out to defend the policy, but ultimately her response was professional and reasoned, if perhaps delivered without the passion of her response to the question about humanitarian issues in Syria.
"Well, that's all we have time for tonight." Wolf Blitzer started to wrap the short interview up. "Annie Edison, deputy spokesperson for the State Department, thanks for coming on the show tonight."
The camera shot briefly to Annie nodding her acknowledgement before turning back to Blitzer, and Jeff came suddenly realised how much he had missed that beaming face. It had been ten years since he'd last seen her; ten years since that wonderful kiss. Grabbing his phone from the table, he located their long-dormant Whatsapp conversation, having to scroll down for what felt like hours to find it. A cold fist clenched around his heart as he was forced to recollect that it had been him who had abandoned their conversation: he had not replied to any of the last messages Annie had sent, some six years ago now, and she had evidently eventually given up trying to contact him. He could not remember the reason he'd stopped replying, but he sure regretted it now.
Impulsively, he began to compose a message: "Hi, just saw you on TV." But as quickly as he'd written it he deleted it and tried again. "Hey, long time no see! How's life?". That one was swiftly scrapped too. Eventually, he gave up. No Whatsapp message could explain his actions or do justice to the range of conflicting emotions suddenly swirling around inside him. Frustrated, he threw his phone to one side.
Now, Jeff was sure of only thing. Whereas shortly before he'd felt relieved to see an absence of messages waiting for him on his phone, now he began to feel a gaping void open up inside him. By his pride and ego, he had managed to cut himself off completely from the people he loved most in the world. He had lost track of their whereabouts, their career progression, even the most basic details about their wellbeing. The last time he'd seen Annie, he'd confided in her his fear that the study group would abandon him. Ultimately, it had been him who'd abandoned them, locking himself away as if to prove his own self-reliance.
Jeff was not a superstitious person. Indeed, scepticism and cynicism were ingrained deep into his every instinct. Nonetheless, the sudden appearance of his cherished friend on his fiftieth birthday seemed like a wake-up call that was impossible to ignore. He retrieved his phone and found another number that he had gone too long without calling. Tentatively, Jeff placed the phone to his ear. It rang for a seemingly interminable duration.
Suddenly, though, Abed's voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Hi,Jeff. Happy birthday. It's been a while. What's up?" Jeff smiled, thanked him, and began to pitch his plan.