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TJ sat next to Steve on the rooftop patio, the only noise was the occasional traffic below and the increasing sound of fireworks being set off. This wasn’t the way Steve’s birthday was planned to play out, but as he’d teased Douglas by text earlier, was he really expected to manhandle Steve into going to a surprise party he wasn’t in the mood for?
TJ had tried to tell his mother and his brother to talk to the rest of the “Operation Party” planners. He knew that all Steve had wanted to do was spend a quiet day at a park, hang out to see the fireworks display, and head home to the birthday cupcakes that TJ had struggled through on his own, after over six months of baking tutorials.
When Steve had left the park early, TJ’s command (aka idea) to go “take Steve out” to dinner was put in jeopardy.
TJ had let Steve have his space, not heading back to the apartment until an hour before dinner was planned. When Steve didn’t answer his door, or his phone, TJ sent a text:
TJ followed the stairway to the roof and when he got there, he saw Steve straddling the wall on the edge of the roof, casually holding a beer.
“You want to scare the shit out of me?”
Steve slowly slung the one leg over the wall, and stood up, “Sorry.”
“I brought cupcakes,” TJ set the sweets down on the patio table as he approached. “Even if they look like this they should make it up to us by tasting pretty decent.”
“They look pretty good. You lost interest didn’t you?”
“Patience actually.” TJ admitted. “I was in the middle of fixing them to look festive and being ordered to deliver you to a surprise party.”
“Dinner.” Steve nodded, finishing off the beer and setting the bottle on the wall. “Cold drinks over there. Water and soda included.”
“Thanks.” TJ stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve. “You disappeared.”
“I thought it would be easier. I mean all of the general festivities – I figured I could hang out, watch the kids, something.”
“It was a little bigger than you expected?” TJ crossed the space to the tub of ice that held the drinks Steve had mentioned. He sat down on one of the cushioned seats with a water bottle in his hand. “That’s fine you know.”
“Who’s at this party I’m not going to?”
“My mother. My grandmother Your friends. Douglas and Anne. Probably some stuffy dignitary my mother wants to impress.”
“Maybe when I’m 100,” Steve laughed, “Maybe I’ll make it up to them for my centenarian celebration.”
“If you want,” TJ shrugged. “It seems to me that planning a surprise party for someone is the ultimate in taking chances. You know, you can see the fireworks from here pretty well.”
“Good.” Steve sat down on the cushioned seat next to TJ. “I guess I did ok today, spent some time at the park, had a few samples of food and overpriced beer. I saw these two little kids running around, squirting each other, trying to keep cool and I… God it’s been so long since I was carefree.”
“What about Easter?” TJ teased.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, if it feels like an eternity for me, I can’t imagine.”
“Same really. You know, for the longest time I would go somewhere expecting things to be a certain way, and come away disillusioned. I‘ve lost track of how many times. I complained to Sam once about what I thought was missing. He suggested I stop going with any expectations, and it helped. It worked. But those kids.”
“Hit too close to home?”
“Summertime in Brooklyn, nineteen twenty four, I was six and Bucky was seven. I remember for so many reasons. It was before the depression but Ma was a single mother, so this was a real treat. My grandfather sent a little money wrapped in a letter for Ma that said “yer Ma wanted to make sure Stevie had a birthday sweet” and Ma decided that she’d bake a cake that we could share with Bucky, his sisters, and Mrs. Barnes. It was stifling inside so Ma baked the cake in the middle of the night.”
TJ watched as Steve leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees. He was smiling one of those bittersweet smiles.
“I want to hear more, first, would you like something to eat before we kill the cupcakes? I could order takeout.”
“Surprise me.”
“The only acceptable birthday surprise?” TJ smirked.
“Yeah,” Steve laughed. “I guess you could put it that way.”
“Go on, I’m using an app.”
“Some of the bigger kids opened up the fire plug and we came in just soaked. We were laughing and dripping and Buck had my shirt tucked into his waistband, hanging down like a tail. His shirt, I still don’t know where it ended up. Coulda been taken home by one of the other boys, maybe it was dragged down the road with the current.
“Mrs. Barnes was fit to be tied and Ma was giggling at us for looking like drowned rats. Innovative but ‘devilish’ drowned rats. So we sat at the table wrapped up in sheets to eat a piece of cake. Bucky kept throwing his off and Mrs. Barnes finally had to tell him, “James, you’re already indecent at Mrs. Rogers’ table. If you keep uncovering like a heathen, you and I are going home and you can give your cake to Rebecca.”
“Ma stifled her laugh, she turned around and hid her head in the icebox, and Mrs. Barnes stepped behind Bucky with her arms crossed and tried to look stern.”
“Tried?” TJ was engrossed in Steve’s story, smiling and laughing at the images.
“She winked at me when I caught her hiding a quiet chuckle behind her hand. I honestly don’t think Buck ever caught on that they were thoroughly entertained by us.”
TJ’s phone vibrated against his thigh, he picked it up to see Douglas was checking up on him:
Steve was aching to know what TJ was chuckling at as TJ set his phone down, but didn’t ask, instead crossing the space to retrieve another beer. He looked at the cupcakes, festively colored red, white, and blue, some swirled perfectly, others dotted with tiny star sprinkles. When he sat back down next to TJ, he looked at his friend before asking, “we’re busted aren’t we?”
“No,” TJ shook his head, the ghost of a laugh in his voice, “I mean it was Dougie looking for us, but I just told him I was tied up.”
“Part of me is really concerned about letting all of them down, but the other part of me just… I’m fine where I am, is that so terrible?”
“Embrace the selfishness.” TJ leaned back on his seat, looking at the colors forming on the horizon. “Watch the sunset and just be. Dinner’s on its way. Listen, if your troubles are pacified by an apologetic text to your friends, do that.”
“Which friends?”
“Sam, Stark, Natasha.” TJ listed them absentmindedly. “I told Dougie you weren’t in the right frame of mind for a crowd. I expect I’ll be answering directly to my mom at some point. If I stick my phone on the other end of the roof, I can put it off for a while.”
“I’m sorry you’re being held responsible. I’ll head your mother off at the pass with a text.” Steve sent apologies to Sam, Tony, and Nat and a quick, ‘I appreciate the gesture, I regret that I can’t attend your event’ to the president. “Isn’t she supposed to preside over some national celebratory something?”
“Yeah, you dodged a bullet.” TJ smiled conspiratorially. “I love my mother, but you should run the other way. She’s blurred the lines too many times, and has forgotten all about what personal is. Everything is about publicity or politics.”
They watched the sun paint the sky with colors, before and after food was delivered, sharing stories of innocent summers.
“You know? This is probably my first Independence Day.” TJ said around a savory bite of his roast beef sandwich, “As far back as I can remember, we were part of some political celebratory something. “Can we go to the beach this year?” “You know your father has…” or “Your mother is expected…”, When I was really small, I don’t suppose it bothered me too much, we found other kids to dork around with. It was when I was older, trying to fit in, that it got harder. “My friends are going to this…” “You’re needed here”, “The State” or “The Nation” needs to “See us as a Family”. I really have to thank you for being –”
“Apathetic?” Steve interrupted before taking a bite of the kosher pickle spear. “Selfish?”
“Yes.” TJ nodded once. “How often is Steve Rogers either of those things? Consider them birthday gifts to yourself, for your wellbeing.”
“I’m not used to it.” A flurry of neighborhood fireworks punctuated Steve’s statement, “Somebody’s started the party early.”
“Sun’s low on the horizon, and it is hard waiting when you’re a kid. I do remember once hiding behind the security tent, we shot off bottle rockets and made them scramble… one of the few times that Dougie was in as much hot water as I was.”
Steve laughed, throwing his head back, “when its your job, you don’t want to hear unexpected explosions. In the war, we tended to like it better when things weren’t exploding – unless we were doing the demolition.”
“Do the fireworks bother you?”
“Nah, not too much. When Bucky and I were kids, we’d go all day lighting firecrackers. Nickle a hundred. We sat on the stoop in the morning, painstakingly untying them into singles and then when we’d light them, half the time we were trying to surprise each other. At night, us kids would gather with our mothers, and Buck’s pop, on the stoop to watch the neighborhood display. Sometimes we’d still have some crackers left, other times our stock was depleted, but some of the other kids on the block would still be popping them off.
“Buck’s dad would pull out a long, thin, cardboard box of a dozen sparkler wires, and proceed to lecture the two of us about not waving them in someone’s face. The red-hot tip before the white sparks hissed to life felt like what our impatient neighbor kids must be feeling. We’d dance around, leaving white tails in our midst, getting a reminder from Mrs. Barnes or from Ma “watch where you’re waving that thing.” The first time Bucky picked up two sparklers and lit them off his before it burned to its end, I thought he was gonna get his hide tanned.”
“He didn’t?”
“Nope.” Steve popped the ‘p’. “We did get a stern talking-to when we started trying to light more than two at a time. I’m afraid it just got more ridiculous and dangerous from there.”
TJ watched Steve peer at his phone, he pushed himself from his cushiony seat and retrieved the cupcakes, “Everything ok?”
“Sam just invited me to lunch tomorrow. I guess I’m not in hot water with him anyway.”
“Good. There are enough beers and cupcakes if you want to have him drop by. I mean it’s your rebellion.”
“He’s taking the opportunity to experience your Dome and do a little dancing with Natasha. So, if you weren’t roped into trying to drag me to a party, what would you be doing tonight?”
“Bringing you cupcakes and staying out of trouble. See, your rebellion fits right in with my plans.”
“Good.” Steve parroted TJ’s reply. “Pass me one of those cupcakes.”
“Did you see that?” TJ pointed toward the Washington Monument, after a pause another shell blossomed into color, “It’s starting. Happy Birthday Steve.”
“Thanks TJ.” Steve licked icing from his lip, toasting TJ with his festive cupcake. “Happy Independence Day.”