THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

By Sophia Yao

In the style of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven”

Once upon an evening merry, I was dining, lone but cheery, Over many a divine and delicious dish of expensive berries— While I suppered, mutely eating, suddenly I heard a squeaking, Of a couple in their thirties, unmistakably married, “Just more customers,” I uttered, “unmistakably married— Only this, no other inquiry.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in cozy November; And the minuscule cozy cafe smelled like sweet cream and rich roux. Quietly they sat in a booth;—plainly dinner they did choose From the menu surcease of hunger—hunger for concealed truthFor the sad and shameful truth that the couple sees right throughNameless here through and through.

And the silken, soft, comfortable rustling of each velvet curtain Showed me - behold to me a man with a self-satisfied face; And across, a woman that was pretty, but fadingly so ’Tis some couple eating at this cafe at this sunset phase— Some married people eating at this cafe at this sunset phase;— This it is, no other case.

Presently the air grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Dear,” said she, the good wife, “I have something in the other room.” And she called the waiter excitedly, and the waiter then left quietly, And so faintly I heard tapping, tapping in the kitchen room, And I grasped tonight was special—an Occasion to be doomed;— Doomed Occasion that will bloom.

Deep into the kitchen peering, long I sat there pondering, thinking, Thinking, wondering why it was an Occasion for tonight; And I realized without delay, that tonight was his birthday, And that the good wife had planned a small surprise for him tonight This I realized, and I sat there anticipating the night— Merely this, all seemed quite right

Out into the cafe coming, a small cake with candle burning, The birthday cake was tiny but glossy with one pink candle. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is just enough to satisfy him; Let me see, then, what seems quite odd, and could turn into scandal— Let me see beyond the surface what could turn into scandal— Let’s see if the pair can handle!”

Presently head waiter entered; hesitating then no longer, He set the small cake down, in front of the husband and started Singing “Happy Birthday to You,” and quite grandly they were singing, And so grandly the piano played, and violin string strung, That I was so sure he was glad—then I noticed something wrong;— Something there and something wrong.

And the good wife looked so hopeful, I became quite joyful, And her plain and pleased decorum seemed to make the cafe glow, “Though the pair seems fair and content, quite,” I thought, “something seems quite off,” Strangely quiet and calm the husband is, his reaction slow Tell me why I almost thought poison was in the little pink loaf! And the cafe ceased to glow.

Much I marvelled the ungainly scene to hear applause so wanely, Though the people clapping wanely – little relevancy bore; For I could not help realizing that for some reason something Was wrong though the people clapped helpfully the husband bore A look of plainness upon his face, staring at the front door, With the expression of total bore.

But the husband, sitting silent in his cushioned booth, never spoke Not one word, as if his mouth was zipped up tight with a zipper. Nothing at all did he utter—not a single word he muttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered “It’s clear he isn’t chipper— On the morrow he will scold her, as a husband does as per.” His face like the grim reaper.

Startled at the embarrassment shown so suddenly by the man, “Doubtless,” said I, “He wouldn’t scold his good wife in the cafe.” But he was indignant at his poor little wife sitting there

And showed his embarrassment openly, displeasement displayed— Till the people of the cafe ceased applauding, turning grey And the poor wife turned away.

And one person would truly be thinking, “Oh, now, don’t be like that!” But he was like that and all could see clearly, and we felt bad; So, inside the cozy cafe, we betook ourselves to slinkling Away unto away, thinking what grudge this angered husband had— What this cruel, embarrassed, tempered, mute, and so angered husband had Meant in being so so bad.

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no thought I was expressing Then the little pink cake was set down and the orchestra played grandly; The little violin-and-piano duo playing grandly And then they ceased to play and the band stopped singing and left quietly,

WEDDING SINGER COURTNEY YOUNG

But the couple sat there quietly with the pink cake sitting mutely, The husband clearly angry!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by the husband whose red face displaced the entire cafe.

“Cruel,” I thought, “the husband is to the kind wife who prepared this, Cruel—cruel and so selfish!’” And he said with completely no delay, Something, oh something cruel and curt under his breath with no delay. I still wonder till this day.

“Cruel man!” thought I, “thing of evil!—to be cruel, when the good kind wife— Whether Heaven sent, or whether Heaven tossed upon our world, Has been so kind to surprise you, yet you mistreat her this bad way— And I couldn’t look at the wife—tell me truly, I implore— Do you - do you feel pity for her? Tell me—tell me, I implore!” I looked down forevermore.

And so I sat there quite sad!—ashamed still, for the poor wife! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this woman to stop crying if, within the distant future, The husband leaves because he is cruel, and I looked down at the floor— Looked away from the poor good wife and I looked down at the floor. Lifting my head nevermore.

I kept my head down for awhile, scared to lift my head, in case The good wife still was crying and the husband still was scolding. And so I left my head down lowered so that I wouldn’t see her. But when I lifted my head, the wife was still softly crying, Under the gay big brim of her best hat, she was softly crying. The husband, unsmiling.

And then I left, left quietly, left silently, left wordlessly Away from the sad wife and the rude husband’s argument; Away from the warm but awkward cafe that is darkened from the scene, And the lamp-light streaming o’er me in the streets seem to say to me, Is what I witnessed what I thought of, or was it something different? And it haunts me till this day! And hand her a tissue before anyone else I drive her to the hospital, honking at cars in my way.