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There were plenty of things that got kids excited for weeks, but telling them their birthday was coming was, by far, one of the ones that hyped them up the most. Even a kid as calm as Amelia.
Dennis had given her a month's warning that her tenth birthday was getting closer, and since then, not a single day had gone by without the girl bringing it up at least ten times. Whether it was to ask how many days were left, what flavor the cake would be, or to remind him, just in case, that this year she wanted colorful balloons and not just the usual pink ones.
He'd been lucky enough to celebrate six birthdays with her, and all of them had gone well, more or less.
The first one had been, much to his dismay, pretty modest. The priority back then was helping Amelia adjust to a healthier home than the group home she'd spent almost three years of her life in. After that came the small parties he and Dean used to throw with some kids from her class, even after they got divorced. The last two, though, had mostly been about reminding his ex husband that no matter what was going on between them, there was one place he couldn't skip.
If there was one thing Dennis could be proud of, it was that Amelia always ended the day with a huge smile on her face. And without fail, all six birthday albums had the exact same photo: her in the middle, in front of the cake, holding Dennis with one hand and Dean with the other, all three of them smiling at the camera like, for a few minutes, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
But before that photo, there was always a day like this one. The day before, when logistics weighed more than excitement, and Dennis still wasn't quite sure how he was going to pull off everything that was coming.
Friday's shift didn't help at all. A complicated admission mid morning, two discharges delayed by paperwork, and Trinity texting him every half hour about whether the number 1 and 0 balloons had to be gold, because she'd only found silver ones at the store. By the time Dennis got home, his patience was already worn thin, and he still had the whole bedtime routine ahead of him.
Amelia didn't help much either, though it wasn't really her fault. She spent the whole dinner counting down how many hours were left until it was officially her birthday, unable to sit still for even five minutes straight.
Paula had even told him there'd been no other topic of conversation that day, that Mellie and Ollie had spent the afternoon drawing while the girl told her best friend every single thing she'd asked for as a gift for turning double digits.
"Five more minutes," she asked, already in bed, when Dennis went to turn off her light for the second time.
"You've been asking for five more minutes for the last forty minutes, Mellie." It was past eight already and there was no way Amelia was going to stop wiggling around in her own bed.
"I can't sleep. Tomorrow's my birthday." Dennis couldn't help feeling soft about it, even though this was the five hundredth time he'd heard about the big day.
"That's exactly why you need to sleep. So it comes faster."
Amelia thought about that with a seriousness Dennis knew all too well. His daughter was searching her brain for a real solution to fight off her insomnia.
"What if I count to a thousand?"
"That's a good option," he admitted. "Though I doubt you'll stay awake long enough to get there."
Amelia laughed, covering her mouth with both hands, and finally settled onto her side, hugging the stuffed animal that had slept with her for as long as she could remember.
"Dad. Can I open one present today? Just one?" Ah, the yearly request. All it took was one disbelieving look from her dad and she gave up. "Fine, fine." She shut her eyes with a lot of drama, like she wanted to show just how hard it was to behave. "Night, dad."
"Night, sweetheart."
Amelia started counting out loud. Dennis stood in the doorway with a wide smile, waiting for her to finally fall asleep. It took her exactly thirty four numbers.
He went straight to the living room after that, later than he would've liked, and got started on the decorations. Balloons, the banner, the presents already wrapped and hidden in the closet. When he finished, he sat down on the couch for a minute, closed his eyes, and let himself think about nothing for a second. That's when his phone buzzed on the table, Brendon's name on the screen.
The thing with Brendon had started, mostly, because Trinity kept pushing him into it. You're still young, Dennis, you can't spend your whole life raising a kid alone with nothing for yourself. And Brendon, at the time, had seemed like a reasonable option.
Nothing serious, nothing that involved meeting Amelia or rearranging any kind of schedule. Just the occasional hookup, usually after a long shift, and even though it wasn't exactly great, since Brendon seemed convinced that having a good body made up for putting in zero effort anywhere else, it at least took care of a dry spell he'd been carrying around for way too long.
The problem was that at some point Dennis couldn't quite pin down, Brendon decided this deserved to turn into something more. And that constant pushing had gotten exhausting over time.
Brendon Park
ur kids bday is tmrw right? could stop by for a bit
Dennis
id rather you didn't
Brendon Park
why?
Dennis
dean and mellie’s little friends are gonna be there not the right time
Brendon Park
im gonna have to meet her at some point right?
Dennis thought hard about how to answer that question his situationship had asked more than once.
Dennis
at some point just not tmrw
Brendon Park
ok ur lucky im patient
send me smth cute before bed?
Dennis looked at the message for a second, rolled his eyes, and left the phone face down on the table without answering. By now he knew perfectly well that when Brendon said cute, what he actually meant was something with no clothes on.
Maybe later he'd send him a photo he already had saved for those moments when all he wanted was to get out of his clothes and into pajamas instead of taking pictures trying to find an angle that kept his face out of frame. A tip Trinity had given him once that, to his surprise, turned out to actually be useful.
He got up a while later, still weighed down by the day, and went to the kitchen to get some of the snack trays ready for the next day, along with what he'd need early in the morning for the special breakfast Amelia had every year with both her dads. An hour later he'd left everything as spotless as always and took out the trash bag that had piled up with all the decorating and everything else.
He was just closing the chute when he heard footsteps coming closer. It was Robby, still with his backpack on his shoulder and his airpods in, looking as tired as only shifts that run way longer than promised can make you look. Judging by the hour, it must have been something pretty serious to keep him out that late.
"Hey." He pulled out one airpod, stopping next to him. "Everything okay?"
By then, they'd both walked down the long hallway and were standing right by their apartments.
Dennis leaned against the wall by his own door, which had been left cracked open since he'd taken out the trash. "Birthday prep," he said, with a vague wave of his hand. "You know how it is."
"Trust me, I know."
Robby let himself slide down the wall next to his own door with the same lack of ceremony he brought to everything else. His backpack landed between his feet, and for a moment he didn't say anything, just took out his other airpod and put it away like he needed his hands busy before he could talk. He stretched his legs out toward the middle of the hallway. Dennis watched him out of the corner of his eye for a second, doing the math he always did whenever Robby stuck around longer than strictly necessary.
He'd spent months telling himself they weren't friends, that sharing a hallway and having kids who got along wasn't reason enough to let his guard down, and yet there he was, not moving, letting the silence stretch between them without any rush to fill it. From 4AB came the sound of the telenovela turned up loud, seeping through even with the door closed, and Sylvia's voice arguing with the TV like it could actually hear her.
"My ex husband gets here tomorrow. Dean," Dennis finally said, staring at the crack in his own door instead of at Robby.
"The idiot you decided to start a family with?" Robby asked, referencing a conversation they'd had months ago.
Dennis almost smiled. "That's the one."
"Is that what's got you like this?" Robby waited, with a patience Dennis still found a little suspicious, hoping maybe he'd get a not so hostile answer for once.
"Part of it." He admitted after a few seconds of deciding whether to keep going. "I love Amelia's birthday," he said suddenly, almost like he needed to make that clear before Robby could take the confession the wrong way. "It's the most important day of the year for me."
"Yeah, I can tell." Robby was about to keep going, but Dennis cut him off.
"But." Dennis went quiet for a second, trying to find a way to say the next part without it sounding as bad as it did in his head. "There's a part of it that makes me mad. I do everything. The decorations, the guest list, the cake, the presents that actually matter. And still, when Dean shows up with his gift and his smile, Amelia's the one hanging off his arm all day. God, sorry, that must have sounded awful."
"I was the Dean of my kids' lives for a long time," Robby said, no hesitation at all, like the sentence had been waiting a while to come out.
Dennis looked up at him, thrown off by a confession he definitely hadn't expected.
"Lauren handled everything. Always." Robby stared at his own hands for a beat, spinning his phone between his fingers. "I'd get home from a shift, play with them for a bit, hand over whatever gift without thinking too hard about it. Not once did I ask myself what it actually took for that birthday to happen. The cake, the decorations, the guest list. It was all just there when I showed up, like it appeared out of nowhere. Never really stopped to think about it, honestly. Not until she was gone and I had to do all of it myself, with no practice at all."
Dennis didn't say anything right away. He kept staring at that same spot on his door, taking that in more carefully than he'd have liked to admit out loud.
"It was worse because you two were married," he said finally, maybe not thinking too much about whether it would offend his neighbor. "Not an ex husband who shows up once a year."
Robby kept staring at the phone in his hands, not turning it on, just something to focus his eyes on.
"We lived together," he said, almost like he was only now realizing it out loud for the first time. "We slept in the same bed. And I still let her carry all of it alone while I got all the hugs. I probably took credit for her whole life without even noticing." He let out a slow breath. "And she never said anything. Or maybe she did and I was too busy playing fun dad to actually listen."
"That's fucked up."
"Yeah." He admitted it without trying to defend himself. "It is."
"I hope Dean figures that out someday," Dennis said, now staring down at his own shoes, focusing way too hard on a stain that looked like it might be blood.
"You think he will?"
"No." He shook his head slowly, no real hope behind the gesture. "Dean's never once stopped to think about anyone but himself. Doubt he's gonna start now."
Robby didn't say anything, letting the sentence sit there, not trying to fix it with something optimistic he wouldn't have believed anyway.
"You're a good man, Robby," Dennis said after a pause, almost surprised to hear himself say it out loud. "And I think Lauren would be really proud of how you've handled all of this."
Robby looked at him, something in his expression that didn't quite match his usual grin, stiller than normal.
"Thanks," he said simply, without adding anything else.
They stayed like that for a while, quiet, the telenovela still playing in the background behind Robby's closed door.
"What about you?" Robby asked after a while. "Are you actually okay, or are you just saying that?"
"I'm fine," he said, more firmly than necessary, crossing his arms again. "I don't need this, Robby."
"Need what?"
"This." He made a vague gesture between the two of them, not finding a better word for it. "You comforting me. I don't need it."
Robby didn't budge, didn't back off from the comment either. "I'm not trying to comfort you. I'm trying to tell you that tomorrow Amelia's not gonna remember who bought which gift," he said, not giving an inch. "She's gonna remember she had a birthday surrounded by people who love her, and you're gonna be there, just like every other day of the year. I've heard the way Amelia talks about you and I don't think she's ever said anything except how amazing you are."
Dennis opened his mouth to say something, to cut the sentence off before it could fully land, but he couldn't find anything in time.
"I don't need this," he repeated, quieter this time, without the same conviction as before.
"I know," Robby said, no teasing in his voice at all. "Gonna say it anyway. Because we're friends."
"No." Dennis shook his head, though without his usual energy behind it. Still, a tiny smile crept up that he hoped Robby wouldn't catch from all the way down there. "We're neighbors. And coworkers, unfortunately for me. That's not the same thing."
Robby held his gaze a beat longer, that half smile of his not quite reading like a joke anymore. "One day you're gonna have to admit it, Dennis."
"Not gonna happen."
"We'll see."
They fell quiet again, until Robby broke it, in a tone way too casual to be entirely innocent. "So? You gonna tell me his name at some point, or is this just gonna stay one of those mysteries that never gets solved?"
How did Robby know he had someone? It didn't take him long to guess it had been Sylvia. Maybe he should start being more careful about what he told her, but what could he do, the Robinavitch's babysitter was an expert at getting him to say more than he meant to.
He didn't know if it was because Robby had been the only person who'd actually comforted him all day, or just the damn habit of being neighbors for almost six months now. So he decided to answer. "No."
"No you won't tell me, or no it won't get solved?"
There was something a little too pleased about the way he said it, like he already had a pretty good idea and just wanted to hear Dennis say it out loud. Dennis didn't catch it.
"Neither one is any of your business." Dennis glanced at him sideways, the same old suspicion. "Why do you even care so much?"
"I don't care," Robby said, way too fast. "Neighborly curiosity."
"Neighbors don't get curious about who I'm hooking up with, Robby." Dennis caught it, just a second before Robby managed to hide it, the color climbing up his neck to his ears, something that didn't match the confidence he usually carried in every sentence. "Are you blushing?"
"It's hot in here." Robby ran a hand over the back of his neck, not looking at him directly. "The hallway, I mean. Bad ventilation."
"It's March," Dennis pointed out, unimpressed.
"Still bad ventilation," Robby insisted.
Dennis watched him for a few seconds, genuinely caught off guard, not quite sure what to do with this new information, until he wisely decided not to pull on that thread any further tonight. "I'm not telling you the name," he said instead.
"Fine." Robby raised his hands, still with some color left in his face. "Keep your secret."
"You should get yourself a girlfriend, Robby," Dennis said after a beat, in that flat tone he used for things he actually meant. "That way you'd stop getting so into my business."
Robby let out a short laugh, though it didn't sound fully convinced. "You think that would fix anything for me?"
"Dunno. But it'd keep you busy."
"I'm already busy. I've got four kids."
"Then a girlfriend who also has kids." Dennis shrugged, with an exaggerated seriousness that clashed with how ridiculous the suggestion was. "That way they'd distract each other and leave me alone."
"So generous of you, thinking about my love life."
"Somebody's gotta."
Robby went quiet for a second, still with that leftover color in his face that hadn't fully faded, and for the first time in the whole conversation he didn't have an immediate response.
"Yeah," he finally said, something odd in his voice. "Maybe I should."
They didn't say much else that night. Robby got up off the floor, tired, and said goodbye with a simple night, Dennis, before heading into his apartment.
Dennis did the same on his side, closing the door slowly, still with that strange feeling settled in his chest, a warmth he couldn't quite name or figure out where it had come from.
He sat back down on the couch. When he checked his phone he remembered Brendon's message was still sitting there, waiting for a reply. He thought briefly about the conversation he'd just had with Robby, about how tense the whole afternoon had been, and decided the least he could do was give him what he wanted, if only to stop feeling like he owed his situationship something.
He went into the private folder in his gallery, scrolled through the photos until he found one he hadn't used on him before, and sent it without thinking too much about it, almost reluctantly, like crossing something off a list.
A couple of minutes went by. His phone buzzed again, and Dennis picked it up expecting some predictable message from Brendon with the most obscene comment he could come up with. Instead, he found a message from the last person he would've expected.
Michael (Ollie's Dad)
i think you sent this to the wrong number
HOLY SHIT.
It wasn't until their fifth wedding anniversary that Robby finally stopped teasing Dennis about that message. That night, with the dishes half washed and the kids asleep on the couch, he hugged him from behind and confessed, right against his ear, that photo was the actual reason he'd started questioning his heterosexuality.