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The elementary school gymnasium was the only space in Norman big enough for the kinds of traditional community gatherings that accompanied most major holidays. Technically, they could have done this outside in the town square, but it was “hot as hell” and nobody seemed particularly upset at doing most of their celebrating indoors. Besides, the fireworks would be down by the lake, which wasn’t any closer to the town square than the school was.
Surveying the gym in question, Garrus considered what he was seeing. Black helium balloons stood sentinel in each of the corners, as well as framing the stage, with the numbers 250 tacked to the wall under the windows. Black crepe paper streamers decorated the ceiling, strung between the metal beams in a way that was going to be much more fun to take down than it was for whoever put them up. Black pillar candles surrounded by silk flowers made up tasteful centerpieces on each of the dozens of tables scattered strategically around the large room. Black strips of carpet denoted walkways that were to remain clear along the edges of the room, and a black laminate rectangle had been laid down in front of the stage to denote the dancing floor. The stage itself held the set up for a local band, all of its mics and various accoutrements draped in more somber black.
Standing next to him, James had clearly decided he’d seen enough. “Joker, pendejo, it’s the Fourth of July!”
Grinning up at them from his wheelchair, Joker was his usual picture of unrepentant. “I know.”
James raised both his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “Usually that comes with a lot more color.”
“It’s a decidedly white holiday, according to my research.”
“Bastante seguro de que lo sé mejor que tú.”
“That wouldn’t explain the black decorations,” Garrus said.
“The Fourth is meant to celebrate the birth of America,” Joker said, cheerful and unfazed. “So I’m throwing a birthday party!”
“With black balloons?”
“Over fifty, the balloons are traditionally black.”
James stared. Garrus shook his head. “Joker…”
“America is turning two hundred and fifty.” Joker waved, fully possessing the nerve to look offended. “There’s no precedent for what color to use.”
“Red, white, and fucking blue.”
“I think we established that tradition is not necessarily worth honoring in this case, Vega.”
“You are not serious, Moreau.”
Joker turned just the smallest bit serious at the use of his last name. “James, come on -”
“It’s America!” James insisted. “Bro, we fought for this country! You got hurt for this country!”
“Yeah, and as the guy with the fucked legs, I’m telling you, this is not out of disrespect!”
“How is this not disrespectful?”
“It is a very nice birthday party,” Garrus allowed, earning himself a look of shocked betrayal from James. “Those are classy centerpieces.”
“Vakarian -”
“But really, would anyone believe it wasn’t under duress if Joker did any of the expected 250th anniversary celebrations?”
“I will burn any tri-colored wreaths I see on my street,” Joker muttered darkly.
“Don’t burn other people’s stuff,” Garrus said.
“People are allowed to be proud of their country,” James snapped.
Joker sighed. “Guys…I am proud. I love this country.” Joker gave them both a pointed look. “If either of you ever makes it to 250, I’ll throw you one helluva gig, too.”
“But then why -”
“Because Joker refuses to simply quit being the Town Festivities Whatever,” Garrus said with a sigh. “Because he is determined to get fired for one of his shenanigans.” Glancing down at his friend, Garrus arched one eyebrow. “You do understand that if this doesn’t get you fired, literally nothing will?”
Joker rolled his wheelchair back and forth, slowly, and for once he wouldn’t meet Garrus’ eye. Instead, their ex-transport officer addressed his remarks to the floor. “Well maybe I wasn’t thinking about getting fired when I came up with this.”
“Really?” James asked. Skeptical of this sudden act of sincerity.
“They are nice centerpieces,” Garrus repeated.
“They are!” Looking up, Joker gestured around them. “It’s a nice party. With fancy food based on traditional dishes from pivotal points in US history, and with a playlist that draws from all those same times or places.” Joker waved his other hand in a different direction. “Do you have any idea how much these balloons cost?”
“Why would you put so much effort into a black-themed birthday party if you weren’t trying to get fired,” James asked.
“Because it’s exactly the kind of birthday party you’d throw for a grandma who could take a joke,” Garrus said.
“And everyone else and their grandma will be doing red, white, and blue,” Joker said, and the earnestness was always a little strange on Moreau. “Everybody else’s once-in-a-lifetime celebration is gonna be boring and typical and look like a normal Fourth of July but on steroids. And ultimately, it will just make people bicker in the way that family holidays do.”
“Versus a birthday party worthy of The Addams Family, which demands some knowledge of history to appreciate and will be the only one of its kind anywhere on the east coast,” James said, and finally, the anger was starting to recede.
“Probably the only one anywhere,” Garrus mused.
“The posters aren’t even here, yet,” Joker said. He turned, wheeling his way over to a conspicuously blank wall. “Previous comments or not, there’s a lot to be proud of in this country. Beyond wanting people to understand why the food and music will be what it will be, I want to highlight things people feel were moments of real American patriotism.”
Hence the survey being done at the library.
“How are you going to pick events that everyone agrees depict ‘real’ patriotism?” James asked.
“Well, not everyone will agree,” Joker said, “but part of being American is the freedom to be wrong. So long as no one suffers from your differing opinion. But mainly, the posters reflect local or personal moments.” Joker pointed at different places along the wall as he spoke. “Victory Gardens from World War One, the local rationing station from World War Two. Painting the local school buses in support of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. The year the town rallied to fix their local tax system after a corrupt mayor almost got Norman unincorporated. The push to build the local clinic after a particularly bad flu season proved that trekking out to Terminal wasn’t a good enough option for keeping people healthy or safe. The watch parties Norman has hosted for every single manned shuttle flight by NASA.”
“Plus a couple to explain the food and music,” Garrus said.
“Those will be over by the buffet and the stage, respectively,” Joker clarified, pointing across the room.
“Respectfully,” James said, and Garrus smiled. Glad their little band, despite the occasional dark prediction, wasn’t actually going to fall out over one of Joker’s ideas of acceptable humor.
“The black isn’t meant to be depressing,” Joker said. “Most beloved old photos are black and white.”
“And the fireworks will be colorful,” Garrus suggested, hoping Joker did actually know where to draw the line.”
“The fireworks will be the same display we have every year,” Joker confirmed. “Down to the lecture from the Sheriff on fire safety that someone will inevitably ignore.”
“Leading to the ritual use of the Fourth of July fire extinguisher,” James said, with uncharacteristic solemnity.
There was a moment of silence, then Garrus snorted a laugh through his nose. “This town is so weird.”
“It’s so small it doesn’t have its own school system,” Joker said with a snort of his own. “What did you expect?”
“I do appreciate that it still manages to have half a dozen restaurants,” James said. “It’s nice to be able to close the diner early some days.”
“We even have an Irish pub,” Garrus added with a grin.
“What is it with people moving to this town and wanting to make it a better place to live?”
“Freaks, man.”
“Weirdos.”
“Can you think of anything more American,” Joker asked, joking through his sincerity. “Moving someplace new and wanting to do your part to make the community a cooler, more fun place to be?”
“Possibly even more functional,” Garrus said. “We did accidentally fix the town’s plumbing.”
Joker frowned. “Right.”
“Bought you at least four more years of job security.”
“Fuck.”
“We are really going to have to watch our language around the kids.”
“I guarantee Jackie already knows those words.”
“That’s not the point, Moreau.”
“So,” James said, and he looked just the slightest bit chastened, “since we’ve cleared up the issue of the color scheme, is there, um…is there anything you need help with?”
It was a well-meaning gesture, even if Garrus suspected James was unknowingly offering to fall on his own sword.
But Joker was nothing if not merciful in victory. Even if he did proceed to grin like a little shit. “You could go down to the post office and pick up the walkers that arrived yesterday.”
“Walkers?”
“America’s turning two hundred and fifty, Vega. She’s got balance issues.”
“Subtle political commentary, thy name is Jeff Moreau,” Garrus murmured as James sketched a salute he mostly meant and turned to lead their way out of the school.