The Birthday Boy (Tristan/Fontaine-Blaus)

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

“What are you doing, Daddy?” Leopold asked climbing onto the counter, putting playful, curious hands into the flour and baking soda mixture Gwen had laid out.

“It’s a surprise, my darling,” she said, waddling to the refrigerator for eggs. “You’ll have to wait and see. But in the meantime, you could help me bake if you like.” It wasn’t every day that the social worker called to tell you that your son was officially yours, that the last name Blau was finally tacked onto official government documents and your family was signed into completion. And it wasn’t every day that your son turned four. It was convenient, really, that Leopold’s adoption birthday fell on the same day as the day he was welcomed into the world. It was one of the few facts they knew for sure about him, and it deserved to be celebrated with love and devotion.

“Is this surprise for Mama?” Leopold asked, his French having improved to the point of fluency.

“No, baby. Please put the butter in for me.” Gwen said as the oven beeped, hungry for raw cake batter after preheating. “Do you know what today is?”

”TUESDAY! Leopold exclaimed excitedly. ”I like Tuesdays because sometimes Mama and Tristan watch Scooby Doo with me and we eat on the floor. Is Tristan coming over?”

“He is!” Gwen said over the whir of the electric mixer.

“Is he the surprise? Because I know it’s Scooby Doo day, Daddy…”

“No, he’s not your surprise, but he’s part of it.” Gwen said as Torben quietly snuck down stairs, wrapped presents under his arms and he hid them around the living room. He smiled at Gwen with a wink and she smiled back, beckoning him in when he was done.

”Daddy’s making me a surprise!” he said, climbing onto Torben’s shoulders.
“Is she? He asked. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, Mama. You’re not supposed to know.”

“Well,” Torben said, “while the surprise is in the oven, why don’t you get all washed up? Tristan’s coming over and we want you clean.”

”Tristan doesn’t care!” Leopold said, clamoring down to the floor with the grace of a spider monkey.

“But I do. So go wash up and when you get done, maybe your surprise will be ready,” Torben said and Leopold complied begrudgingly and slumped up the stairs while Gwen put the cake in the waiting oven.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” she asked. “Knowing that he’s ours, knowing that he’s four. I’m just… speechless.”

“That’s a first,” Torben teased, pulling her to him. “You really shouldn’t be standing.”

“Well Gabriel’s out buying last minute decorations and you can barely handle coffee. What else was I going to do? Besides, I can stand. I’m pregnant, not legless.”

“You could have bought a cake from the store. Leopold won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Ew. I can tell the difference. Do you know what they put in that? Plastic and extra monosodium. This is a special occasion and so calls for a special cake. Please, Torben. Just, calm down. Nothing will ruin today. Not a fake cake and not my standing. Relax. Twenty minutes until the cake is done. Then I’ll frost it and sit down.” A loud ring ricocheted throughout the apartment. “That’s Tristan. Get the door, babe. Please.”

Torben complied and answered the door with a wide smile for his friend. “Come in! Leopold will be so happy to see you.”

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

At the door, Tristan ran into Gabriel. Both men had their arms full to the brim – Tristan with wrapped birthday presents, Gabriel with several shopping bags. Gabriel, swaying and hunched under the weight, looked like he might drop any second. Tristan balanced his load in his arms and held the door.

“Doing some last minute present shopping for the birthday boy?” Tristan asked. A grin wiggled onto his lips.

“Decorations, Lurch,” Gabriel said brightly. “What’s with the hat?”

Tristan hesitated then nodded with some force as indication Gabriel get inside the building.

“Get inside, Uncle Fester,” he said. “We don’t wanna be late.”

He didn’t want to talk about the hat and with any luck, no one would ask him why on earth he thought a second-hand fedora looked good. He’d taken it from Laurence’s last night when his uncle dared to call his new haircut “respectable”.

The ride up the elevator was awkwardly silent. Gabriel, usually so chatty, kept staring at the hat with impolite interest. They stopped at the second floor for an additional passenger when Gabriel spoke again.

“Hat etiquette dictates you take that thing off when you get in an elevator,” he said.

“Shut up, what do you know about hat etiquette?”

“I am a connoisseur of hats,” said Gabriel. “In fact, I can tell you already, that hat is about half a size too small for you. Especially if you’ve twisted you hair into it.”

Tristan smiled tightly, but said nothing. He instead leaned against the handrail lazily and crossed his legs at the ankles. The best he could do, really, since he couldn’t cross his arms. Silence descended and the other passenger got off at some point. Again, Gabriel tried to start conversation.

“So. What did you get Leopold? Torben got him an easel.”

“Do you know the meaning of the word surprise?”

“Surprise is my middle name,” Gabriel said. The doors opened – finally – onto Gwen and Torben’s floor. Tristan walked briskly, trying to keep ahead of Gabriel by a few paces. His long stride did the trick until he reached the door and rang the bell. While waiting, Gabriel caught back up.

“You didn’t get him an easel too, right?”

“No, Gabriel. I didn’t,” Tristan said.

“Good. You know how Torben would be…” Gabriel said. “Crushed. Devastated. Melancholy-“

“Yes, Gabriel. I get the picture.”

“I’m just making small talk,” Gabriel said mildly. “Lighten up, Tristan. This is a party, not a funeral.”

And then Gabriel realized what he said and started to guffaw. Tristan rolled his eyes and rang the bell a second time. He’d never been to a kid’s party before. Well. Not since he was a kid himself. Worry crept into his gut at the thought of there being kids besides Leopold there. He didn’t know if there would be, but Gwen was the type to invite the whole block. Tristan could barely avoid tripping over Leopold; dancing around a bunch of other pint-sized people would be an acrobatic feat worthy of the three-ring circus. And, for his final act, Tristan the Great would actually have to make small talk with parents. Him, The Childless Wonder, would perform such death-defying acts as pretending to know anything about preschools in the area, The Wiggles, and whatever it was parents of small children filled their days with. Tristan had had a vivid nightmare earlier in the week – the day he fell asleep at the barber’s actually – about that very thing. Talking to parents and being denounced as some kind of circus freak for being Leopold’s friend as much as Gwen’s or Torben’s. What kind of twenty-eight year old, they asked in the dream, spends his time with a four year old for fun?

Gabriel, perhaps sensing Tristan’s discomfort, nudged him gently on the shoulder with his own shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “Really, though. Try to smile. It’s just us. And Gwen and Torben only bite each other.”

Sometimes, it wasn’t so hard to remember that Gabriel was Gwen’s twin brother. The way he smiled just now made him look incredibly like her and Tristan felt a familiar on-rush of affection towards him, usually so reserved for Gwen. He opened his mouth to thank him, but the door opened and standing on its threshold, was Torben.

Smiling.

It was really good to see that smile. It was infectious and Tristan smiled back.

“Come in! Leopold will be so happy to see you,” said Torben, ushering them inside.

“I’ll be happy to see him,” said Tristan. “Where is the birthday boy?”

As Gabriel made some sort of apologetic excuse – “Forgot my key, sorry, T-Man.” – pattering feet scurried down the stairs. Leopold skittered to a stop part way down and then launched himself from his vantage point at Tristan, Torben, and Gabriel. He gave a loud “kreee!” sound like some miniature pterodactyl and stretched out his arms, expecting to be caught. Time seemed suspended for a long moment as Leopold sailed through the air. Somewhere behind him, Tristan heard a rustling “thusssh” and saw Gabriel spring into action.

“INTERCEPTED!” Gabriel shouted as he snatched Leopold from the air and wrestled him to the floor for a tickle fight. And just like that, Gabriel ceased being an adult, leaving Tristan and Torben standing in the entry way with spilled decorations and an armful of presents.

“Well. That was one hell of an entrance,” Tristan muttered to Torben, who was probably suffering a heart-attack or something and could use a little lightheartedness. “Where should we put the stuff…?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fonatine

From outside the kitchen, there was a loud commotion of four-year old foots steps racing down the stairs, ready to launch, wrapping paper being crushed and Gwen’s four favourite men talking loudly amongst themselves. She stuck her head out, icing spatula in hand and saw Tristan with an armload of gifts, Torben with a pale, horrified look on his face, and Gabriel cradling Leopold.

“Where should we put the stuff…?” Tristan asked to a speechless Torben who probably had visions of Leopold nose-diving into the hardwood floor and laying in a pool of blood.

“Here,” Gwen said, rushing as quickly as she could to Tristan. “Give them here. We’re hiding them,” she whispered. “It’s like an Easter egg hunt…!” she tucked the presents away in different places around the living room while Gabriel distracted Leopold. “Hey,” she said finally, wrapping Tristan in the closest, tightest hug possible. “How have you been?” She pulled him into the kitchen so she could continue frosting the cake while they talked. It had sea foam-colored frosting with fondant turtles on top, with a big blue “Happy Birthday, Leo!” in jelly icing. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Gwen said.

But before Tristan could answer, Torben came in. He opened the cabinet to retrieve plates and said seriously to Gwen, ”Meine Eltern sind fast hier” and Gwen nodded with a mix of excitement, sadness, and understanding. His parents wanted to spend Leopold’s fourth birthday with him, and it looked like it would be the last one, too. Gwen sucked in a deep breath to keep herself from crying at the thought of what Ingo might look like, at the thought that this might be the last time she saw him. But she was determined to make today happy for her son.

“Sorry about that. You were saying, love?”

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

“I wasn’t,” Tristan said, eyes darting from Gwen to Torben.

He didn’t speak a word of German, but the look behind Gwen’s eyes said everything: Torben had finally told her about his parents, after all. Not exactly the best way to celebrate your four year old’s birthday, if Tristan had to guess. Not that he knew much about four year olds and birthdays.

He looked over at the cake, with its jelly frosting and fondant turtles. A smile crept onto his face and Tristan leaned on the counter, studying the masterpiece Gwen had created. Better to focus on that than any lingering sadness. Today wasn’t the day for that.

“That is a work of art,” he said appreciatively. Then, “I’ve never seen you decorate a cake before. If I didn’t know any better, just looking at this, I’d figure you were the painter in the family.”

He was teasing, just a little, and he caught Gwen’s eye then. Torben had said the pregnancy wasn’t going well, but from where Tristan was standing, Gwen looked in perfect health. Maybe she was just really good at faking it; maybe Leopold’s birthday gave her a second-wind. Either way, it had been entirely too long since he’d seen her.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

“That is a work of art,” Tristan said appreciatively of the cake. “I’ve never seen you decorate a cake before. If I didn’t know any better, just looking at this, I’d figure you were the painter in the family.”

Gwen never realized that Tristan had never seen her decorate a cake before. But she supposed it made sense. She knew he embalmed bodies, but she had never seen it. Gwen had made Tristan all kinds of foods before, but never cakes, despite the fact that decorating cakes was in her job description. “Well, maybe one day I can make your wedding cake or something,” she said sweetly, reaching up to pat his face lovingly.

Leopold catapulted down into the kitchen from the counter and ran up to the cake. ”Are we having turtle cake, Daddy? I like turtles.” But Gwen didn’t get to answer because Leopold turned to Tristan. “We’re having turtle cake for you, Tristan! Because you haven’t been here in forever.”

“Leopold, wasn’t your Mama going to get you all dressed up?” Gwen asked, lifting the heavy cake with difficulty and taking it to the table.

“Yes, and then we’ll have turtle cake?”

“And then we’ll have turtle cake.” Leopold skipped off and Gwen sat down with a tired sigh. “Tristan, tell me about your life, baby. It’s been way too long.”