Four hours later, Isaac stood in the center of the backyard. With Dominic in the house with Reese, Isaac took the opportunity to enjoy a few final peaceful moments before the yard was overrun by overzealous preschoolers in frantic search of a sugar rush. He inhaled deeply and surveyed his surroundings. Fifty colorful helium-filled balloons, individually tied to various objects, danced gently in the light breeze. Fifty. Reese’s logic behind the number had been that fifty balloons equaled ten balloons for every year of Dominic’s life. The math did make sense; however, Isaac still puzzled over the logic behind it. It didn’t matter to him, though. Dominic deserved a fun, lively birthday party, and Reese deserved to design it for him. Isaac attempted to smile at the idea of his wife, son, and the balloons, but he couldn’t quite muster one.
His inability to smile had nothing at all to do with his love for them. He loved them both fiercely, and the swelling in his heart just this morning was one of his favorite feelings in the world. Too frequently, that sensation of warmth and tenderness seemed to seep through every pore and slither off to some unknown dark place. The loving sensations were always, always present in his mind. He could think about his love, and he knew intellectually that it was strong and deep, but he couldn’t always feel that love. He often worried that he was depressed. It did seem quite fitting, but it also kind of didn’t make much sense. He knew that he should be happy. And he was happy, at least on a cognitive level. He hated it when the feelings were stuck in his head and wouldn’t spill out into the rest of him. Stupid, selfish brain. Isaac didn’t just hate the experience. He hated himself for it. Plain and simple, he was unworthy. That’s why he couldn’t feel love sometimes; he wasn’t meant to feel it. Throughout his life, even stretching way back into his childhood, there had been something off about him, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Well, that wasn’t fully true; he was off because he was a bad person. He didn’t know why he was so awful, he didn’t mean to be awful, and he tried to hide it from the world. He wanted to be good, so he pretended to be, but he worried that people, especially Reese and Dominic and maybe even Max and Gretchen, could see right through him to his rotten core.
His rotten core flew into the air with the rest of him when Max grabbed both of his shoulders from behind and shouted, “Put on your party hat, and let’s get this party started!” When Isaac just looked at him as he attempted to calm his pounding heart and regain his ability to breathe properly, Max instructed, “Seriously. Put on your party hat,” and proceeded to hand him a pointy paper hat with fire trucks on it. Isaac yanked it out of Max’s hand, strapped it on, and glared at him. “Don’t glare at me. You should thank me for making you look festive.” Max laughed. Isaac sighed.
“Actually, the yard is what looks festive. Thanks for your help, Max. I think the best is that obstacle course.” Isaac nodded toward the course that began in the far corner, extended to the swing set, through the sandbox, and looped around and through various hoops, jump ropes, balls, and a sprinkler. “You did an amazing job with that. The kids will love it. I mean, you completely ignored my plan and did what you wanted to do, but I can’t even complain about it because this is fantastic.”
“Uh, what?”
“The obstacle course.” Isaac gestured. “It’s great. I’m impressed with what you did.”
“Dude. What are you talking about?” Isaac took in Max’s perplexed expression and mirrored it with what he assumed was his own equally bemused look.
“What do you mean, what am I talking about? You made an obstacle course. I like it. What don’t you understand about that?”
Max shook his head. “Knock it off, Isaac. Is that your way of bragging? Just say that you think you outdid yourself in making that course.”
Isaac felt his mouth open to speak, but it took a few moments for words to form and work their way out. “Max. Seriously. I didn’t make the obstacle course. I assumed you did.” When Max said nothing, Isaac continued, “I didn’t make that, Max. Don’t you think I’d remember doing it?”
Max shook his head. “Whatever, Isaac. I’m telling you, you made the course. Hold on.” He jogged away. Isaac remained rooted to the spot and narrowed his eyes as he studied the yard. He swore he hadn’t built that course, but if he hadn’t built it, what had he been doing all of this time? He glanced around. He didn’t remember inflating or tying or placing the balloons. He didn’t remember setting up the tables and tablecloths for the art activities. He didn’t remember stringing up the piñata. He didn’t remember arranging the patio furniture for cake time. And he still didn’t remember making the damn obstacle course. What the hell had he been doing?
When Max returned with Reese’s phone, he immediately touched the screen and handed the phone to Isaac. “Look, man. Your wife took pictures of you making it. Here’s some of Dominic helping.” Max continued to swipe through the pictures. “And here’s a selfie she took of the two of you. You put the hula hoop around both of your heads. See? You may not be wearing your glasses, but that’s clearly you.” Isaac took the phone. He scrolled slowly through the images. The pictures clearly provided the undisputable evidence, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember building the course or taking the selfie picture with Reese. He felt what must be the physical manifestations of shocked bewilderment: lightheadedness and nausea. Why didn’t he remember? He hated it when this happened. Although things like this had happened frequently throughout his life, he never grew accustomed to them, and they always frightened him. This was a perfect example of his badness. He couldn’t let Max know that he truly didn’t remember. God, what if he said something to Reese? No.
Isaac faked a grin as he punched Max in the shoulder. “Gotcha. Of course I built it. I was just messing with you.” With relief, he saw Dominic run to greet a friend. He nodded in their direction. “Looks like the party’s starting. Let’s go.” He glanced sideways at Max as they walked toward the patio, which served as the party hub. Thankfully, Max had dropped the subject of Isaac’s bizarre claim that he didn’t build the obstacle course.
From the moment they reached the patio, Isaac had no time to ruminate over his memory lapse or the fact that Max had caught him in one of his states of unknowing. Preschoolers poured into the yard, Dominic yanked on Isaac’s shirt, and they were all off and running. Isaac supervised the chaos and attempted to help the lot of preschoolers through the obstacle course he still couldn’t remember creating. Ten four- and five-year-olds squealed and clamored over each other as they pushed and shoved their way along the course. “Hey! Slow down! One at a time. Everyone will get a turn. Just wait. Whoa!”
He spun around at the sound of laughter behind him. “This is funny to you, is it?”
“Yes.” Reese slipped her arm around Isaac’s waist when she reached his side.
“I’m glad I can be a source of amusement to you.” He looked over his shoulder to redirect three fast-moving preschoolers. “You guys are going the wrong way! You’re supposed to start there,” he pointed to the far corner of the yard, “and then go through there first before you come over here.” He watched them continue to run in the same direction. “No!” Exasperated, he turned back to his wife. “This is out of control. How did I let this get out of hand in less than fifteen minutes?”
Reese reached up and ruffled his hair. “You didn’t ‘let’ it get out of control. This is in perfect control for a bunch of preschoolers at a party. That’s why we have different activities, remember? I’ll take half of them and make pet rocks. You play with the other half on the obstacle course. Sound good?”
“Sounds very good. You’re incredible, Reese.”
She laughed. “Don’t forget it.”
“Never!” Isaac leaned
