Alex Eames thoughtfully chewed her pencil and tried for the thirtieth time to rearrange the numbers on the expense report in front of her. Sighing, she resigned her mind to the prospect of having to defend her expenditures to the Major Case Squad's accountants.
"Hey, Alex," a cheerful voice broke into Alex's thoughts.
Alex looked up to see Angie Frantone, the squad's newest secretary, approaching her desk. Angie was young, enthusiastic, and pretty, and most of the male members of Major Case had at least a mild crush on her. Alex thought that she could easily hate Angie's guts, but the woman was also funny, tough, remarkably efficient, and took nothing for granted, including the fact that the efforts of the other women in Major Case made life easier for her.
"Hey, Angie." Alex put down her pen, happy to exchange a few minutes away from paperwork for a few with Angie.
"I got a question for you about your partner."
Alex smiled. "No, he's not seeing anyone as far as I know."
Angie returned the smile. "Well," she said, "that's useful information, but I already knew that, and it's not what I want to know."
"And just how do you know that Robert Goren is currently unattached?" Alex's smile was turning into a grin.
"Secretaries know all, reveal all, at least to each other," Angie laughed. "And Goren is a frequent subject, maybe because he's such a mystery."
Alex leaned back in her chair. "Well, if I can shed any light on the Goren mystique…"
"It's not that complicated," Angie said. "His birthday is coming up, and I just wanted to do the usual sort of thing…a cake and some silly stuff…and I just wanted to know what kind of cake and ice cream he liked."
Alex considered the question. Since her arrival at Major Case, Angie had quietly initiated a practice of having small birthday celebrations. They fell within Captain James Deakins' ideas of professional behavior and rarely involved more than some slices of cake and scoops of ice cream partnered with silly cards and banners, but they served to lighten the occasionally dark atmosphere in the office.
"You know," Alex said as the thought struck her, "I don't know…I've never seen Goren eat cake…"
Angie shook her head. "Ya disappoint me, Alex. Everyone told me that if anyone knew the answer, it'd be you."
Alex smiled and then let a frown cross her face as another thought slipped into her brain. "I don't think, " she said, "Goren does much celebrating of his birthday…He's really good about remembering mine, but I got some signals from him when we first became partners that told me not to make a big deal out of his…"
"Oh," Angie said, suddenly serious. "Maybe he's one of those people who don't like to remember their birthdays…Although Goren doesn't strike me as one of those people horribly worried about getting older."
"Well, he occasionally worries about losing his hair, but he's not trying to hide the grey ones or anything," Alex replied.
"Well, listen, Alex…I don't want to make him uncomfortable or anything…Could you find out if he doesn't want anything? It won't insult me or anything." Angie's tone was conciliatory.
"Sure," Alex answered, "and if doesn't mind, I'll find out if his favorite cake is some complicated multi-chocolate thing."
"We should be so lucky," Angie laughed. "Thanks, Alex." With a wave of her hand, Angie returned to her desk.
For the remainder of the day Alex considered the question of Bobby Goren and birthdays. Since the start of their partnership, he had been scrupulous about observing dates important to her. Her birthday was marked by dinner or lunch at one of her favorite expensive restaurants (because, as Bobby said, one should always take advantage of a present) and a gift, usually a book (because Bobby was Bobby and guessed that she was as eager to add to her knowledge as he was). A birthday, Alex thought, was relatively easy to remember and mark, but Bobby quietly and subtly went beyond that. In the third year of their partnership, Alex realized that on the anniversaries of her husband's death and their wedding that a flower or small gift (this year it had been a little ceramic cat in a police hat) appeared on her desk and that those were days that Bobby absolutely had to go out for lunch or dinner and insisted on picking up the check. He also made a point of celebrating better memories, including her anniversaries of joining the force and Major Case.
But Bobby never celebrated his own milestones, or, Alex realized, any holiday. He always volunteered to work Thanksgiving and Christmas, telling her that he was single and perfectly willing to cover for the guys with families. "And don't feel sorry for me," he insisted when, during the first Christmas of their partnership she expressed some concern over his solitary status, "I want to do it, I get a lot done, and I get a lot of good will. And time and a half." From the start of their partnership Alex attempted to do for Bobby what he did for her, but, aside from his birthday, she didn't know what days were important to him. Her attempts to celebrate his birthday had been met not with outright refusals, but Bobby's gentle evasions. There were always suspects to interview, evidence to review, or even paperwork to finish.
"There's so much I don't know about him," Alex thought as she watched Bobby fumble with the copy machine. Her snarky side considered the possibility of not telling Bobby about Angela's plans and enjoying the results, but the warmer side, filled with concern for her partner, opted for telling him. The opportunity didn't appear until later that evening when she gave Bobby a ride home.
"Oh," Alex said as she maneuvered her car out of the parking garage, "I need to warn you…Angie Frantone is threatening to give you a birthday party." Alex shot a glance at Bobby and was surprised to see the shock and dismay that swiftly crossed his face.
He quickly regained control. "Oh, really?" he asked.
"Yea…she came by my desk today to ask what your favorite cake was." Alex kept her eyes on the traffic but was highly aware of her partner. "She just wants to have a small thing, Bobby…but if you don't want it…she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable."
Bobby fidgeted with his leather binder, but was quiet until they were a few blocks from his apartment. "I guess…some cake…would be ok."
Alex snorted. "Trust you, Bobby Goren, to make cake and ice cream sound like a dental appointment…" She gave him a quick look. "You don't have to," she said gently.
He fidgeted again with the binder and gave her a small smile. "Oh, let's do it and force me to have a good time. Besides, no one will forgive me if I keep them from free food and goofing off."
In spite of Bobby's light tone, Alex detected a strain to his voice, but they had arrived at his building. She stopped, and Bobby opened the car door.
"Thanks…as always… for the ride, Alex. And for the warning," Bobby said.
"Hey, you didn't answer…what's your favorite?" Alex called after him.
Bobby shrugged. "Oh, you and Angie pick…I probably won't have much…I've never liked cake much."
A horn sounded behind her, and Alex shifted her car into gear. Glancing in her rearview mirror as she pulled away, she saw Bobby standing on the curb, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, watching her. He looked, she thought, suddenly very lonely and vulnerable.
"Smile," Bobby Goren thought. "Just keep smiling and nodding…Keep handing cake to people…Say thank you…Oh, God…This is so much worse than I thought it would be…Why did I agree to this?...Oh, I agreed to it because Alex seemed to want it…No, don't blame her…Please, please, let us get a call…What sort of person wants people to get hurt just to avoid…"
"Having a good time, Detective Goren?" Angie Frontane smiled up at him. Her olive eyes sparkled at him, but Bobby glimpsed a shadow of concern.
"Be nice," he told himself. "She's doing this for the best reasons…"
Bobby forced a smile back at the young woman. "Yes," he said in a tone that sounded forced to him. He tried to recover. "Just…a little out of practice…"
"You haven't eaten any of your cake." Angie pointed to Bobby's abandoned plate.
"Uh…haven't had much of a chance," Bobby replied as he handed off another piece to a passing officer.
"Here…" Angie took the cake knife from Bobby and parked in front of the table bearing the cake. "I'll take over…you enjoy your own cake. Get it before the ice cream melts."
Bobby sat down at his desk and stared at the mass of chocolate in front of him. The chocolate ice cream had started to mix with the dark cake and frosting to create an oozing swamp. He carefully maneuvered a spoonful containing mostly ice cream into his mouth and gave Angie what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It apparently worked, for Angie returned it and then began to cheerfully supply cake and ice cream to her fellow workers.
Forcing the bite, which might as well have been mud as far as he was concerned, down his throat, Bobby surveyed the office and searched for an escape route. The party had gotten out of hand, largely because word had gotten out that Angie Frantone and Alex Eames were in charge of selecting the cake, and all of Major Case knew both Angie and Alex shared a major chocolate addiction. And it seemed that most of the office wanted to congratulate Bobby Goren for his high solve rate and to thank him for his contributions to their own cases. Deakins had relaxed his own rules about these events to include some brief comments about Bobby's importance to the squad. As the Captain spoke, Bobby stood awkwardly, his shoulders hunched and shifting from one foot to the other. Fortunately, the schedule did not require Bobby to speak, but only to blow out the forest fire of candles. ("Good thing it's a big cake," Alex had commented. "As it is, we're going to be lucky if it doesn't set off the sprinklers.")
Bobby watched as Alex laughed and talked with Ron Carver and Deakins. "I'm glad they didn't make me talk," he thought. "How could I tell them…what this job…this place…to finally be somewhere, do something…where what I do matters…to have someone…" Bobby swallowed guiltily and glanced around his surroundings. Attention finally seemed to be away from him. He stood up and moved as stealthily and quickly as he could. Stealth did not come easily to a man of Bobby Goren's size, but he managed to reach the men's room with only attracting a few well wishers. Inside, Bobby checked to make sure he was alone, took off his jacket and hung it on a hook, rolled up his sleeves, and turned on the hot water at the sink. As the water filled the basin, Bobby stared at his reflection in the mirror. The face was still unlined and baby like, but the grey was marching steadily through his hair and stubble.
"Forty-four," Bobby thought. "Forty-four, and still alone and still a scared little kid…Still looking for answers in books and …Still trying to find some reason in the chaos…"
He turned the water off and reached down into the sink to splash his face. Bobby lifted his glistening face to stare again into the mirror and saw small drops of chocolate at the side of his mouth. He raised his hand to wipe them away, and suddenly saw the face of a nine-year-old Bobby Goren before him. Bobby's stomach lurched violently, and he staggered into the stall farthest from the door. He dropped heavily to his knees and threw up the scarce contents of his stomach into the toilet. Shaking, Bobby knelt for a few moments before he flushed the toilet and rose unsteadily to his feet. He yanked a few sheets of paper from the roll and wiped off his mouth.
"Damn," Bobby thought as he walked back to the sink. "I know why this sort of thing happens…why can't I stop it?" He braced himself before he stared into the mirror, but only the ashen face of the adult Bobby Goren looked at him. Bobby splashed more water on his face, dried it with a rough paper towel, and rolled his shirtsleeves down. As he put on his jacket, a knock sounded on the door.
"Goren? You in there?" The door muffled Alex's voice.
Bobby straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath.
"Yea," he called and opened the door.
Alex Eames stood before him with a teasing smile on her face and holding his coat. "Robert Goren, you're the only man I know who tries to hide from his own birthday party. Your cake and ice cream look like a mud pie." Her smile faded as she examined him. "Are you ok?" Alex asked, her voice gentle and concerned.
The desire to grab Alex, pull her into the room, slam the door, and weep out his fears to her swept through Bobby. He shivered, fought the impulse, and said, "Just…a…little stomach trouble…nothing major…." Bobby tried to give Alex a smile.
Alex's examination of Bobby deepened. The shiver hadn't escaped her, and she noted Bobby's ashen color. "You sure you're ok?"
Bobby nodded. "Just my stomach feeling its age."
"Well, considering what you put in it, I'm not surprised." Alex smiled at Bobby. Relieved, Bobby smiled back and looked beyond her at the office.
"Looks like the party's over…" he said softly, and Alex detected considerable relief in the statement.
"Yea, and we've got a call. No rest for NYPD, even for its best detective's birthday." Alex handed Bobby his coat. "You sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine," Bobby said as he slipped on his coat.
"I should have realized your idea of celebrating would be to go after the bad guys," Alex smiled.
Bobby followed her gratefully and tried to ignore the party's remnants on his desk.
Alex yawned and tried to concentrate on the papers before her.
"You can go home, Alex." Bobby's voice was soft and gentle. "I can finish this."
Alex shook her head. "Hey, least I can do for you is help with the paperwork. You didn't need me today."
Bobby lowered his eyes and spoke quietly. "I ALWAYS need you."
Alex studied him. "Yea," she said striving for a light tone, "if only to translate."
Bobby smiled and shyly let his eyes meet hers. "And a good deal more," he said. He dropped his eyes and returned to his paperwork.
Alex leaned back in her chair and considered the day's events. Bobby had been so eager to leave the Major Case office after the party that she was afraid they might have left some crucial bit of information. It was far from a difficult case—clearly one of those demands from some political hotshot wanting the services of the city's best detectives—but Bobby had put the pieces together with lightning speed. One minute they were at the crime scene, the next at the suspect's home, the next in the interview room, and now they were dealing with the paperwork. Alex had the uncomfortable sense that she now knew what it was like to survive a tornado. The experience was an unpleasant reminder of the very early days of her partnership with Bobby—days when Bobby rushed into cases and offered Alex no explanation of his methods; when Alex felt both incompetent and unwanted.
"Well," Alex thought as she rubbed her head, "at least I'm wanted…"
"Alex." Bobby's soft voice broke in on her thoughts. "Please…you're tired…go home."
"Naw," Alex said stifling a yawn, "just coming down from a sugar high." She brightened. "Let's see if some cake is left." She scurried over to the table bearing the office coffee and snacks.
"We're lucky…two pieces left…the horde didn't get it all." Alex plopped two plates on their desks. Bobby stared darkly at his and returned to writing his report.
"This should hold us over until I take you to dinner," Alex commented as she drove her fork into the chocolate goo.
Bobby warily regarded her. "Dinner?"
"Yea, for your birthday…I guess it's a day for new traditions…you having cake…going out…" Alex waved her fork.
"It's …it's nice of you, Alex, but…I really want to finish this and just go home…I'm still feeling a little…well…not so good." Bobby attempted to concentrate on his report.
Alex leaned forward. "Bobby," she said softly, "Are you ok? Really?"
Bobby ceased typing and stared at his computer screen. "It's just…" Alex could barely hear his voice. "I…" Bobby struggled for a moment and then, with a decisive move, swung his chair over to Alex. "Birthdays…they weren't…I don't have a lot of good memories of birthdays…or other things…" He ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh," Alex let her hand rest on Bobby's knee, "So this day…this has been…"
Bobby looked into her eyes. "It's not your fault, Alex…like you said…I'm the only man who can make eating a birthday cake seem like torture…you didn't…"
Alex smiled at him. "Well, at least let me take you to dinner…not for your birthday, but for getting us through this case so quickly…the paperwork can wait…besides, you have to have something to complain about tomorrow."
Bobby considered the offer. "I'm not fit to be with anyone tonight," he thought, "But I want company…no, I want Alex's company…" He let his hand rest on hers. "No waiters singing….no candles or funny hats?" he whispered.
Alex raised her free hand in a Boy Scout salute. "Promise. Cross my heart."
"Ok," Bobby said, "But some place quiet…And I have to warn you, Alex…I may not be the most amiable dinner partner tonight."
She smiled at him. "And how many meals have you sat through listening to me complain about some jerk?"
They settled on a small bar/restaurant located equally far away from the office and their apartments and managed to find a small booth in a corner. The food was good, if not spectacular, the Guinness on tap, and the atmosphere friendly and relaxed. Bobby sipped the dark beer and watched Alex glow in the soft light. "You could tell her…she knows already…a lot," he thought. "It might help…It might ruin…"
Bobby leaned forward. "Why is it, Alex, that the rest of us get older, and you look younger every year?"
Alex peered at him over a spoonful of soup. "Clean living, I guess…although that's not necessarily by choice."
"You call that clean living?" Bobby pointed to the Guinness.
"This," Alex said lifting her glass, "is mother's milk to an Irish girl."
Bobby smiled, and fidgeted with his fork.
"Bobby," Alex said softly, "You know, you can talk to me…or not…whatever you want…"
Bobby slowly raised his eyes. "It's just…." Bobby took a deep breath. "What…what have you guessed about me, Alex? I mean, about my family and stuff…" Catching her disturbed look, Bobby went on. "I mean…it's not like I think you think about me all the time… or even part…or that you're a snoop or something…but you're a detective…and a good one…and…" Bobby stopped and held a hand to his mouth. "This isn't coming out right…"
"It's ok." Alex reached across the table and took his hand. "And you're right…I've speculated." She studied him carefully. "I know about your mom…a little about your dad…enough to know that they left you with a lot…a lot of things to deal with…I suspect you've had to deal with things no kid should have to do deal with…"
Bobby nodded and gently pulled his hand from hers. He gripped the edge of the table with his two hands.
"When I was nine," he began, "Really, on my ninth birthday…." Bobby stopped and took another deep breath. "My Dad…like others…he was leaving a long time before he actually left…and he was probably gone a long time before he physically left…and he was always more involved with my brother…." Bobby fingered the edge of his knife. "But it wasn't completely his fault…it's…it's so hard to deal with someone who's mentally ill…and I was…I was so different from him…this kid who read all the time…and my brother was this great athlete and…" Bobby stared into the dark wood of the table. "But I…I loved him. He could be this horrible manipulative bastard, but one of the reasons he could get away with that was that he was also this incredibly charming guy…really handsome…funny…he could make anything fun…make things fun and exciting….He could make me feel like a prince…"
Bobby glanced up at Alex. "Anyway, a few weeks before my ninth birthday, things were going really well…Dad had made some money…Mom was on a new medication and seemed to be doing well…and she asked me if I wanted a party for my birthday…I told her no…" Bobby turned his attention back to his fork. "I was afraid, you see, that she make get sick again…and scare the kids…and I didn't know that many…" Bobby swallowed. "But my Dad said we could have a big family party…So, the day comes, and my Mom spends the whole day making this cake…she had a lot of trouble 'cause she hadn't made one in so long and it was a hot day and she had the oven on…and we wait…and wait…and my Dad doesn't show up…."
Bobby's voice trembled, and Alex saw his knuckles were white from gripping the table.
"My brother gave up first…told me he was sorry, but what could you expect? And my Mom…God, it must have broken her heart…she tried to get me to open her present and go ahead…but I …I insisted on waiting for him…." Bobby's body was trembling now with his voice. "Finally, about nine, he showed up…He came through the front door…he was drunk…and I ran to meet him…and he…he …he smacked me…hard…with the back of his hand…and I fell back against the stairs…and my Dad yelled at me…something about always being in the way…and he went in the kitchen…I followed him…he saw the cake and the candles and stuff…he yelled something about what was this and where was his dinner …"
The trembling turned to shaking. "My Mom…she tried to explain…to say it was my birthday…and he raised his fist…and I ran between them…I was trying to tell him I was sorry…and he swung…and I was on the floor…and my head really hurt and something was running down my face…He was standing over me…and my Mom was in a corner crying…and Dad kept yelling at me…yelling "It was all right until you came along…she wasn't sick until you came…stupid kid ruined everything…" Then he picked up the cake and threw it at me…and my Mom suddenly came at him…I just …I was on the floor with all of the cake around me…and I heard the door slam…and then my Mom was standing over me…and she just lost it…she screamed at me…blamed me for his leaving…and she kicked me…"
"Oh, Bobby." Alex reached over the table to touch him, but Bobby flinched and pulled away.
"I…stayed there…on the floor…curled up. I finally realized she had gone…My brother came down…helped me get up…told me I shouldn't have upset them…I hurt…but I helped him clean up kitchen…He kept telling me that I had to tell everyone that I had fallen down the stairs…that they would put Dad in jail and Mom away….I got my clothes off and put them in the wash…and I staggered upstairs…I could hear Mom crying in her room…I got to the bathroom…I…I looked at myself in the mirror…and there was blood and chocolate and cake all over my face and hair…" Bobby stopped. Alex could see the tears brimming in his eyes.
Alex rose and moved to Bobby's side of the booth. She gently embraced him and pulled his head down to rest against her shoulder. Bobby shook with the struggle to control himself, but he finally lost the battle and began to weep into her shoulder. Alex held him and rubbed his back as he cried for several minutes. His shaking and crying stopped, and Bobby pulled away from her. Alex still held his right arm as he wiped his eyes with his left.
"I'm sorry, Bobby," Alex said. "If I'd known…I'd never…You must have been in hell today…"
Bobby shook his head. "No…Alex you didn't know…and it was so long ago….and just finally being able to…to trust someone…enough…to tell them…"
Alex hugged him.
They finished the meal in a companionable silence. As they stepped out of the building, Alex touched Bobby on the sleeve.
"You going to be ok? You want me to go home with you?" she asked.
Bobby looked down at her. "Yea…I'm going to be ok…It's nice of you, Alex, but I'll be all right." In response to her concerned look he said, "Really…I promise you…tomorrow I'll be there…I'll call you…if…I need…I will."
"Ok…you know you can call me…" Alex wavered.
"I know," Bobby replied. "And that goes both ways." He pointed at the street. "Look, you better grab that cab."
He opened the cab door for her. "Another day older," he said. "Thank you, Alex."
"And deeper in debt," Alex answered. "Happy Birthday, Bobby."
Bobby watched as the cab drove away. "I'll be owing you, Alex," he said softly. "Until the day I die."
END