As the furious clattering of his laptop keyboard slowed to a stop, Simon Seville cocked his head to the side and listened intently. He was sure there hadn't been a knock. But then he had been typing for some time, and things on the periphery of his attention would frequently be dropped in favor of extra bits of focus on whatever he was doing. At the moment, his brain had sent the signal to his eyes that the far corner of the coffee table was somehow gravely important. So he sat there on the living room couch, head still tilted and waiting for any answer, staring blankly at the coffee table, and trying to make sense of it all. His wife's voice immediately brought clarity back to him.
"Honey? Can you get the door? I'm a little busy here." Jeanette called from the kitchen.
'So it had been a knock!' He thought, quickly placing his laptop off to the side and smack dab on what would have been, had it not been part of the upholstery, a very upset paisley chrysanthemum. As he led his body in a hasty retreat from the chrysanthemum and its many cousins that had doubtlessly been squashed underneath him, Simon wondered who had arrived for the surprise party first. The knocks that his brain so desperately ignored previously were now invading his ears, each strike of the door more percussive than the last. And when he finally arrived to the door, he heard a tiny voice screaming to its father that whoever was inside probably wasn't home. He pulled the handle and dragged the door back to its stopper, comically toppling the little chipmunk that he called nephew. That was when Simon knew; it was Alvin and Brittany.
Indeed, off to the side of the garage the both of them were calmly collecting the extraneous toys, blankets, diaper bags and formula bottles that cluttered the backseat of their car. Brittany started a slow hobble to the front door, which was all she could manage while carrying the diaper bag, Snugli, toddler gym, and the latest addition to the Seville family. She finally felt confident enough in her gait to look up from her ballet flats, smiling exhaustedly at her brother-in-law. She motioned for her son to pick himself up and enter the house, an order which he wasted no time in completing.
"Can you help Al get the suitcases and presents?" She pushed her way past Simon and put her bags down on the living room floor. As he was about to leave and help his brother, Brittany called him again. "Oh, and Simon?" He halted immediately and turned to face her. Instantly, she wrapped an arm around him in an awkward side-hug. They both would have preferred a full hug, but the Snugli carrying Alvin and Brittany's youngest child prevented anything warm and familial for the time being.
He pointed to the bundle in question, which was sleepily opening its eyes and catching a fleeting glimpse of its Uncle Simon before resuming its slumber.
"And who is this?" He grinned down at the tiniest child he'd seen in quite some time, and began to nuzzle its nose with his own. "I haven't seen you since you were in your mommy's uterus!"
Brittany rolled her eyes. Even when talking to a baby, her brother-in-law still couldn't dumb down his vernacular. "Well, we were going to go with Jewel…" With her finger, she casually brushed the tiny bits of golden hair on the baby's head. "But then Alvin thought of the name Andrea, and it just fit our darling girl so well." She looked around, scowling. "Where the hell did that boy get to? BRIAN!", she called after her son.
Simon gritted his teeth instantly. No matter how much motherhood had seemed to soften Brittany's demeanor, there was always a tumult hidden just underneath the veneer of her skin. If there was ever any link between temper and fire, Brittany was the most likely candidate for spontaneous combustion that he'd ever seen. As she wandered out of the living room and towards the dining room, Simon turned his attention to his older brother, who was still unpacking the car. "I'd better tell him to move the car before the others get here." He muttered as he slipped on his loafers and prepared for what he expected to be a difficult conversation. He closed the door behind himself, stared at Alvin's blurry form from the front steps, and heaved a deep sigh.
Unlike his kid brother Theodore, who thankfully lived just a block away, Simon's older brother had decided to relocate his side of the family to Long Island. 'Where the action is.' He remembered Alvin had told him that once. Simon wasn't sure exactly where Alvin and Brittany had uprooted their son to, but he did know that the little brat- er, child- wasn't quite adjusting. He came by that knowledge solely in chunks; Theodore and his newlywed wife were in the habit of calling and relaying just about any piece of information they had their hands on, from a death in the most extended branches on the family tree to the two-for-one special on undergarments currently running at Macy's. It was no big shock when Jeanette's sister (and Theo's bride), Elly, called them saying that little Brian had been reprimanded for shoddy grades and sassing back at his teacher. One thing was definite; the boy was, without a tinge of doubt, Alvin's son in blood, mind, and spirit.
As Simon descended the steps and drew ever nearer to his brother, a wave of memories flooded back to him. Most were of his grade school days, when he and his brothers were found almost exclusively with each other. He remembered Alvin's elaborate schemes to elevate their status in the world's eyes. He remembered the concerts, the stage lights, and the way that Alvin would smile after each and every show no matter how exhausted he was. As he let his eyes wander to the calm and collected man that stood before him now, carefully removing parcels wrapped in bright and festive paper from the trunk of a modest sedan, Simon wondered whether his career and status meant as much to Alvin now as it did then. He certainly had proof of its success in that New York townhouse of his; Three gold records, all framed and in plain view over the fireplace mantle, one Grammy for his second solo album, and a poster-size collage of every record, CD and MP3 he had ever made. Simon crossed the dewy lawn and recounted every mention of Alvin's name from every music theory class he had taught at Thornton. As he was counting down the last few instances he could recall, he looked up suddenly and realized he was about to run directly into the car.
"Shit!" He muttered, halting to a stop and nearly scaring Alvin into dropping everything he had so painstakingly collected.
"Hey, dude. You startled me. Help me get this stuff inside, huh?" Alvin motioned to the front entrance. Simon opened his arms to accept yet another burden from his older brother. For once it wasn't an emotional one; no, this bundle was very much material, and heavier than he expected.
With a strained voice, he spoke as clearly as he could from behind the mountain of gifts thrust into his arms. "Park the car across the street. It's supposed to be a surprise party, remember?"
"Right, right." Though Simon couldn't see Alvin's face as he spoke, he guessed that his older brother was distracted. "I'll get that done in a sec. Just help me out, ok?"
Simon thought carefully for a moment. "You didn't…?" As he turned, he caught a small glimpse of Alvin's face. More precisely, his nose and about a quarter of his right eyebrow, but Simon concentrated more on the expression they held rather than the features themselves.
"No, you know I don't tweak anymore." Alvin said quietly. "Just thought I saw someone I knew, that's all." Simon heard the rustle of bags behind him as he walked slowly to the front door.
"Well, Charlene lives on this block, you know."
"God, I haven't seen her since you mixed her jazz album years ago." Alvin sputtered, following his brother close behind. "How's she doing?"
"Married." Simon said flatly.
"With children?" Alvin laughed tersely.
Simon stopped short and hung his head. "Really?" he grumbled.
"Ah, I knew you'd get the joke!" Alvin maneuvered around him at a brisk pace, and Simon could see that unlike his own, his older brother's arms were practically devoid of items. "I'll get the door for you. Thanks a lot, man." As he ran up the stairs, a sharp whistle came from behind them.
"You're seriously gonna make him to do all the heavy lifting?" A familiar voice echoed across the lawn. As Simon turned around, he caught a glimpse of a green sweater laid on top of what was obviously a bulky and muscled frame.
"Thank god!" Simon called out. As he did, another form appeared in front of him. He felt the bundle get lighter as the packages obscuring his face were suddenly pulled into another set of arms. For a moment he was dumbfounded, but his vision quickly adjusted in time to catch the last moments of one of Eleanor's friendly smiles before she made her way to the front door. Following her lead was Simon's baby brother Theodore, who took his share of the rest of the brightly colored presents. In fact, before Simon knew it, his own arms were empty as Theo took the last of the monstrous gifts away and brought them into his own, much stronger, limbs.
"Really, Alvin?" Eleanor shot him a look as she passed him by. Alvin merely shrugged his shoulders, holding the door for her and her husband as they went inside. Simon stared as his older brother tossed him a set of car keys.
"Can you take care of that? I dunno where you want it, and by the smell of things, I gotta change a diaper." With that, the chipmunk in the red polo shirt closed the front door behind him and left Simon alone on the front lawn with his mouth slightly agape. He quickly closed it, and turned to the modest sedan Alvin had left in his charge.
"Christ." He muttered as he sat down in the driver's seat. Neurotically, he buckled the seatbelt into its proper place. Though it was, at most, a thirty second drive, there was no sense in losing his life to carelessness. 'Especially today.' He thought. The car back-fired a bit as he turned the ignition; it was perfectly in-sync, in fact, with the idea that just entered Simon's mind. He stared, with some concern in his eyes, at the glove box. While it may have been true that Alvin had been responsible enough to enter rehab before his son was born, Simon couldn't forget the day that he first learned of Alvin's illicit use of methamphetamine. He surrendered to his curiosity and anxiety, leaned over, and opened the large compartment.
Nothing.
Unlike that fateful day in question, there was no lighter, no well-used glass tube, and no plastic bags of clear crystalline powder. Aside from the registration papers and a stray pacifier, the glove box was empty. Never before had Simon felt so relieved for butting in on his brother's business.
"At least he's recovering." He said, shrugging his shoulders and shifting the car into reverse. In seconds, the car was moved and Simon was clear to go inside. He looked both ways before crossing, and, feeling a chill, tugged at his vest. He looked down at its silver buttons as he walked. He had no impetus to use them, but the more he looked the more he thought about them. His wife had picked his clothes out for today. Not that he couldn't have done it on his own, but she thought that perhaps, since it was a special occasion, certain clothes could be brought out of storage and worn. "Please? For today?" She had pleaded with her big green eyes. Simon could never say no to those eyes and he knew it, so he gave up and put on the damn vest. It wasn't that Simon hated the vest. Rather, it was particularly ornate, and very different from the rest of his wardrobe. In fact, he liked the intricately carved buttons, and the hand-stitched embroidery in metallic blue thread. It was his most treasured article of clothing. But, he thought, a college professor and a novelist had no use for putting on airs. It was a sentiment he told Jeanette as often as he could. He had struggled hard to put his rock star past behind him.
As that thought occurred to him, Simon stopped dead in the middle of the road. Was it so important to him that his past be forgotten? He vowed to think more about it once the weekend was over. Of course, he'd said that to himself repeatedly about a variety of subjects, and never once had he actually done anything about any of them. Suddenly he heard the honk of a car horn in his left ear.
"Simon?" He heard the driver say, perplexed. He squinted at the light that reflected off the windshield of a very familiar beat-up Triumph. The window slowly rolled down, and a wrinkled face smiled at him gently.
"Dave!" Simon looked around cautiously; first for other motorists, then for his brothers. After confirming that he was reasonably alone, Simon ran over to the car and threw his arms around his adoptive father. Many years ago, he had found the three boys huddled close together in a basket on the front steps of his winter cabin. He took them in and raised them as his own children, never once making them feel unwanted. Even after they found their biological parents, Dave was always there for them, and they remained his boys no matter how old they were. It was cliché, but true nonetheless.
As he pulled back from the embrace, he became rather embarrassed by his outburst of emotion. He straightened his glasses while his adoptive father straightened his own, and he cleared his throat.
"Could you park in front of Alvin's car?" He motioned to the sedan.
"Of course, Simon," Dave said. "I know how surprise parties work." With that, he pulled ahead and parked as Simon stared blankly at the car his adoptive father drove. Again, nostalgia kicked in. He remembered countless days poured into oil changes, repairs, and the eventual restoration of what became Dave's favorite car. Simon always hated that car; not because he thought it was ugly or because it drank gas like a college girl drank wine coolers, but because it always needed something and chose the worst moments to announce its needs. A blown carburetor in the spring of 1983 had given Dave a fair amount of trouble booking tours. Then there was the engine replacement in 2001, which left all of them without transportation for nearly a month. That fossil-destroying monster had given the Seville family more anguish than it was worth, and no matter how much Dave wanted to buy a new car, it never happened. "It's just not in the cards right now, boys", he would say, and write every repair off. His adoptive father had siphoned more money than Simon could remember into the old Triumph, but it appeared that it finally decided to play nice. As he looked on, the car backfired in Simon's presence.
"Ah. Spoke too soon." He thought.
As Dave slowly exited the vehicle, Simon ran up and gently gripped his arm for stability. The moment encapsulated Simon's relationship with Dave perfectly; the middle child, quietly savoring a moment alone with a loving parent. Again, Simon kept his eyes on the front window. His self-consciousness was showing through yet again. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, especially around Dave. Simon envied both his brothers for their candor, but he held a special pit in his heart for his jealousy of Theodore. It had always been clear who Theodore loved or hated, and he constantly expressed himself either way. That freedom, to be vocal of one's own predilections, was a concept foreign to the middle child that was Simon Seville.
To distance him from the self-deprecating thoughts that danced in his subconscious mind, Simon began to recount the latest family news to Dave as they walked closer and closer to the front door. He mentioned baby Andrea and how she had inherited Brittany's flaming head of hair, and he talked of how Theo and Elly's house-hunting had come up quite fruitful, and they had just put a mortgage on a rather sizeable two story cape-cod to share with Mrs. Miller in her twilight years. He did not, however, share Alvin's commentary that he was glad to see "that old bat Miller" up and about at such advanced age. Just as he was