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“Surprise!”
Sam staggered back a few steps as his friends popped up from behind furniture and out of doorways as the lights came up in the living room of the home he and Al shared. He turned to the man now—his best friend, his husband, his savior—and gave him a quizzical stare. Al merely grinned.
“Happy birthday, Sam.”
“I . . . “ Sam ran a hand through his dark blond hair, pushing back the silver-grey streak that marked it. Only six months earlier, after Al led a scientific and hell-bent-for-leather experiment that brought Sam home, the young physicist still found his memory blasted with holes, like bullet-addled cheesecloth. “I forgot.”
“I know, but that's okay!” Al replied cheerfully as his friends came forward to hug him or give him a pat on the back. “I remembered for you.” He led Sam to the coffee table, where a pile of gifts and a large sheet cake waited. Sam peered past the protective covering to read a message there, spelled out in blue icing:
Happy Birthday to Our Favorite Hot Mass!
“Hot mass?” Sam drawled at Al, who lifted a shoulder as he slipped an arm around Sam.
“Come on, who doesn’t love a good physics pun?” Al removed the lid and fished a lighter from his vest pocket.
“Al?”
“Hmm?”
“How old am I? I can’t remember.”
“Chronologically? 41. But you’re only as old as you feel, amore mio .” He brushed Sam’s hair from his eyes as it fell forward, delighting, as he had been for the past half-year, in touching Sam again.
“Al, that’s such a cliche!” Sam laughed, and Al accepted two shaped number candles from Tina, a wax four and a one, each outlined in pink. He stuck them in the cake and lit them. Sam blushed, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, as his friends sang to him. Al placed a hand on Sam’s back.
“Make a wish, Sam.”
Sam closed his eyes.
I wish we could start again. I wish I could give you everything you’ve given me . . . I wish we hadn’t lost so much time together.
Sam took a deep breath and blew out the candles, drawing applause from his friends. Al landed a wet kiss on his cheek and a solid smack to his ass, making Sam yelp and narrow his eyes in response to Al’s bold grin. As Tina and Gooshie unwrapped paper plates, Verbena touched Sam’s hand.
“What did you wish for, Sam?” She asked quietly, and Sam glanced over at Al, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sliced the cake. Sam longed to fill the holes in his memory with moments like this, knowing their true value would come later, in lieu of others he’d lost forever while leaping. He smiled, his eyes never leaving Al’s much-loved form as he replied.
“Time, Verbena.” He touched his widening grey forelock of hair as it fell forward, stubborn and constant, like a clock’s second hand.
“I wished for time.”
Fin