Birthdays and backfirings
The trouble with having friends whose birthdays cram into a relentless cluster is that each one -- the presents, the scale of celebration -- kinda sets the mark that the subsequent birthdays must at least meet.
So it was for Q's 20th that we'd already pulled off some pretty outrageous stunts earlier in the year; we were running seriously short. I don't remember how it was eventually hatched, but we made plans for a surprise thingy for his birthday weekend. Back then we'd go to the beach almost every weekend (the boys were still serving national service, hence the unavailability of weekdays), so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But the idea was to pretend we'd forgotten all about his birthday, which sounds tacky and old on paper, I know; I don't know why we still do it anyway.
Earlier that week, we'd gotten someone to smuggle into camp a huge bouquet of red roses, and an anonymous musical birthday card that went "MMMMMUACK!" (three times, and very loudly) when you opened it; what I would have given to have seen the look on his face. The plan was for him to tell us all about his secret admirer during out weekend out, and for us to jump on him and go all "SURPRISE! It was us! Happy Birthday!" or something equally cheesy.
But you know how these things go, and that day at the beach, he didn't say a word about The Incident. So the revelation that was supposed to have come early on dragged on, with us practically imploding from the suspense, and him being completely nonchalant. We spent the day swimming, playing beach volleyball; we sat on the raft, talking, laughing, and singing for hours, and he remained as tight-lipped about the roses. On hindsight, that was unquestionably our mistake; Q was always extraordinarily unassuming, unfazed by attention -- even at blatant attempts to embarrass him, apparently. The others -- they would have jumped at the very first chance to flaunt the existence of their newfound suitor. Not Q.
***
"Hey, didn't you say you were going to bake me a birthday cake?" Q asked, as we sat soaking up the sun.
That's what I mean about expectations; you bake a cake for one person, and suddenly this is demanded of you. (Well, to be fair, I did mention in passing that I would bake him a birthday cake. I just didn't specify which year it would be.)
I scrambled a little. "Er, yeah. I got busy. Next year, lah."
He made a face at me, and I grinned sheepishly.
***
As we headed into the evening, we started to pack to leave for dinner. That was the final straw, and someone (I think it was H) pulled out a single red rose that we'd kept hidden from him.
"Oh yes, here you go, happy birthday," she said calmly.
"Oh," he stared at it for a bit. "Oh, thanks. Hmm, a rose?" He furrowed his eyebrows, and we waited for him to connect the pieces.
"What is it?" I asked expectantly.
"It's just that this week, I... er, nevermind, it's nothing," he said with a wave of his hand, still somewhat bewildered. I couldn't believe my ears; what a moron.
"Okay, you can add that to the rest of the bouquet," I said, and we watched as it began to register on his face.
"The rest of... How did you know about..." he paused. "OH MY GOSH, THAT WAS YOU GUYS?!" he burst out, and a sort of strange relief washed over his face; that turned into an emotional speech that nearly made me cry.
It took us the whole day, but it was worth it in the end. We went for dinner, bought him a cake (with 20 small candles, much to the cake shop's salesgirl's dismay!), and spent the rest of the night answering his questions about the execution of the plan, and expressing our disbelief at his unwavering poise.
***
It all seems so childish when I think of it, but that also means that we have youth as a defence. Q has had three more birthdays since then, and he has never failed to remind me of the cake that I owe him. Yeah, I do carry this procrastination thing a tad far at times. Maybe this year, lah. ;)
***
(This post was brought to you by another reader request, which took a long time, I know. I guess these memories hit you when they hit you, huh. ;) Man, if I made my living writing, I'd probably starve.)
So it was for Q's 20th that we'd already pulled off some pretty outrageous stunts earlier in the year; we were running seriously short. I don't remember how it was eventually hatched, but we made plans for a surprise thingy for his birthday weekend. Back then we'd go to the beach almost every weekend (the boys were still serving national service, hence the unavailability of weekdays), so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But the idea was to pretend we'd forgotten all about his birthday, which sounds tacky and old on paper, I know; I don't know why we still do it anyway.
Earlier that week, we'd gotten someone to smuggle into camp a huge bouquet of red roses, and an anonymous musical birthday card that went "MMMMMUACK!" (three times, and very loudly) when you opened it; what I would have given to have seen the look on his face. The plan was for him to tell us all about his secret admirer during out weekend out, and for us to jump on him and go all "SURPRISE! It was us! Happy Birthday!" or something equally cheesy.
But you know how these things go, and that day at the beach, he didn't say a word about The Incident. So the revelation that was supposed to have come early on dragged on, with us practically imploding from the suspense, and him being completely nonchalant. We spent the day swimming, playing beach volleyball; we sat on the raft, talking, laughing, and singing for hours, and he remained as tight-lipped about the roses. On hindsight, that was unquestionably our mistake; Q was always extraordinarily unassuming, unfazed by attention -- even at blatant attempts to embarrass him, apparently. The others -- they would have jumped at the very first chance to flaunt the existence of their newfound suitor. Not Q.
***
"Hey, didn't you say you were going to bake me a birthday cake?" Q asked, as we sat soaking up the sun.
That's what I mean about expectations; you bake a cake for one person, and suddenly this is demanded of you. (Well, to be fair, I did mention in passing that I would bake him a birthday cake. I just didn't specify which year it would be.)
I scrambled a little. "Er, yeah. I got busy. Next year, lah."
He made a face at me, and I grinned sheepishly.
***
As we headed into the evening, we started to pack to leave for dinner. That was the final straw, and someone (I think it was H) pulled out a single red rose that we'd kept hidden from him.
"Oh yes, here you go, happy birthday," she said calmly.
"Oh," he stared at it for a bit. "Oh, thanks. Hmm, a rose?" He furrowed his eyebrows, and we waited for him to connect the pieces.
"What is it?" I asked expectantly.
"It's just that this week, I... er, nevermind, it's nothing," he said with a wave of his hand, still somewhat bewildered. I couldn't believe my ears; what a moron.
"Okay, you can add that to the rest of the bouquet," I said, and we watched as it began to register on his face.
"The rest of... How did you know about..." he paused. "OH MY GOSH, THAT WAS YOU GUYS?!" he burst out, and a sort of strange relief washed over his face; that turned into an emotional speech that nearly made me cry.
It took us the whole day, but it was worth it in the end. We went for dinner, bought him a cake (with 20 small candles, much to the cake shop's salesgirl's dismay!), and spent the rest of the night answering his questions about the execution of the plan, and expressing our disbelief at his unwavering poise.
***
It all seems so childish when I think of it, but that also means that we have youth as a defence. Q has had three more birthdays since then, and he has never failed to remind me of the cake that I owe him. Yeah, I do carry this procrastination thing a tad far at times. Maybe this year, lah. ;)
***
(This post was brought to you by another reader request, which took a long time, I know. I guess these memories hit you when they hit you, huh. ;) Man, if I made my living writing, I'd probably starve.)
posted by Laughingcow at 2:17 am
2 Comments:
Now, if only someone were to bake a cake for me... Not buy from Prima Deli or BreadTalk... but bake... I think I will tear... Thanks. This was nice piece of writing. Made me feel... at peace. And that the world has its bits of joy. - D W
Glad you liked it. :) This world does have its joys, along with everything else, of course. :)
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