Abby woke up early one balmy morning at the beginning of July and sat up, with some difficulty owing to her ever-growing size, swinging her legs around the edge of the bed. She had to go to the bathroom, of course, as it seemed one or both the babies were constantly leaning against her bladder. The fact that the air conditioner wasn't working added to her overall discomfort, but at least the heat of the day had not settled in yet, and as she returned from the bathroom, rubbing her round belly tenderly, she caught sight of John, sprawled on his stomach, sheets barely covering him. He was snoring lightly, and she laughed softly as she crawled back into bed with him, realizing that she not only had everything she had ever dreamed of and more, but that life was about to get even better for them in a few months. Abby wondered to herself how she had ever come to deserve such blessings.
She was just about to doze off again beside him when a sudden thought jerked her back to consciousness. In all of last month's excitement and fervor, she had never had the chance to throw John a proper birthday celebration. She had greeted him that morning with kisses and happy birthday wishes, of course, and had seemed perfectly happy and content, but she had wanted to do more, and what with the fire interrupting their work lives AND their personal lives, she had not had time to think of it until now. Abby stole another glance at her sleeping husband, then looked over to the clock on the bedstand. He would be up in less than an hour, and then would face a 12-hour shift. She sighed. He worked so hard for her sake and the babies'. He deserved to know how much she appreciated and loved him for it. Abby made up her mind. She was going to give John the most thoughtful, pleasant, relaxing birthday party ever.
Well, she thought, at a month late, at least it will be a surprise!
She pretended to be asleep for the next 30 minutes until she heard him get up, take a shower, come back to kiss her softly on the cheek, and then exit the room. When she was sure he had left for work, Abby rose once more and started to plan all that had to be done. It was going to be a busy day.
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Four hours later, Abby was already exhausted. With all her extra weight she had gained, she felt like she was on her feet for days! She went over the items she had already aquired: various food products, a cake, gifts, card, decorations, etc. She nodded, feeling satisfied that she had remembered everything. Heading back to her car, she considered stopping by one of the colorful flower kiosks in the street to buy him some flowers to decorate with. They were tempting, but Abby finally decided against it, thinking that the decorations she already had would probably embarrass him enough (although she knew he'd secretly love the yellow streamers) and she didn't want to go overboard with flowers! Just as she rounded a corner, however, a different kind of flower caught her eye, and she couldn't help but stop and admire. These flowers weren't freshly cut, but rather were on a canvas, created from watercolors. The old man that sat behind the modest booth stared ahead of him, a vacant, yet benevolent look still in his eyes. He seemed to be almost blind, Abby marveled as she admired the beautiful watercolors displayed before her.
"Do you like them, Love?"
"Oh, um… they're beautiful." Abby hesitated. "Do… do you paint all these?"
At this the old man smiled. "Every one," he responded proudly.
"But… how…?"
"Ohhh, dear," the old man chuckled. "I don't need perfect vision to know how to paint. Sometimes things just feel right. Don't you agree, Love?"
Abby picked one of the paintings up reverently and kept her eyes glued to it, still admiring it as she spoke dreamily: "I'm shopping for my husband. It's his birthday. Or," she laughed softly, "was his birthday."
"I see, I see," the old man responded. "And how long have you two lovebirds been married?"
"Two years, next month," Abby beamed.
"Well, well, well!" The artist chuckled again. "Well it's never to late, Dear, just to show you love him! Ya do love him, don't you, Love?"
Abby grinned and blushed. "Very much. How much is this one?" She asked, holding up the painting closer, not knowing if he would see which one she was referring to."
"Oh, I'd say for you that one will be my gift to you lovebirds. You take care now, and be sure to tell that little one how lucky he is, to have parents like you."
"Thank you," Abby said, feeling a little aghast. "But, how did you--"
"You just have that nice, motherly glow about you is all, Love. You take care now."
After thanking him again, Abby headed home, certain that this would make John's "birthday" a perfect one.
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Much later that evening, Alger let in an exhausted-looking Carter, who promptly went and changed into sweatpants before setting out in search of Abby. There was a sweet, comforting aroma drifting to him from the kitchen, and he decided to go see what sort of meal had been saved for him from dinner. Expecting to meet one of the cooks as he entered the kitchen, he stopped short as instead what he saw was Abby leaning over the oven, testing something.
"Abby? What are you doing? Where--"
Abby turned around and gave him a big welcoming smile as she walked over to embrace him and give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "I thought the cooks could use a day off for once," she explained.
"That may be true, but you should be resting…" he trailed off as he took in all of the scene in front of him. Behind Abby, he noticed candles adorning the dining room table, and the kitchen tabletop was strewn with all kinds of his favorite foods, each garnished and served skillfully on its own platter.
"Abby, what is this?" He asked, feeling his heart grow warmer and his fatigue leave him minute by minute.
"It's your birthday surprise," she explained.
He looked down at her, smiling and shaking his head. "My birthday was last month," he said, amused and bewildered.
"Surprise," she added quietly.
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Carter sighed contentedly. He had eaten a five course meal, and as he finished his last bite of cake, he couldn't help but laugh out loud, mirthfully, as he gazed at his wife, beaming, across from him.
"Abby, this was excellent. You've outdone yourself- thank you so much."
Abby grinned, then added mischievously, "Actually, there is one more thing."
John laughed again. She had been too excited to wait until after dinner to give him his gifts, so he had sporadically been presented with various shirts, ties, baby-related items ("daddy-wear," according to Abby,) and video games throughout his meal. As he surveyed all that was in front of him, still in disbelief, Abby returned with a flat, medium-sized wrapped package. Removing the wrapping, John's eyes were met first with a seemingly chaotic burst of colors. As he gained some perspective on the very impressionistic painting in front of him, however, he could see very well that it was a garden in springtime, the grass lush and flowers in full bloom. A small child in a summer bonnet played gaily among the flowers while a hammock that was slung from two trees off to the side seemed still to move from its previous occupant. The sun shone in brilliant splashes of gold, and everything seemed alive and cheerful.
"It's what I want for us. All of us, some day," explained Abby as she gazed at it over his shoulder, snaking her arms around his chest and kissing his cheek. He turned to embrace her more fully and found her lips with his own.
"Baby this has been the best birthday of my life. Thank you."
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That night, just before heading off to bed, Carter picked up the painting once more and turned it over. On the back of the matte framing it was written in Abby's familiar handwriting:
John, our future may be a bit blurry at times, but it is always beautiful.
Happy Birthday.
Love, Abby