The Most Wanted Gift

“Hello? Is anyone home?” I called out for the second time. Today was my nephew Luke’s 18th birthday, and my sister, his mother, Mavis, had invited me to celebrate with them. I had been knocking and ringing the bell for several minutes, but no one had answered the door. I was about to take my phone out of my pocket to call my sister when the door finally opened.

“Run away while you still can,” my brother-in-law Jake whispered as he opened the door very slowly. He stood there in a dirty apron, holding a bowl. He looked very tired and depressed.

“Rough day?” I asked, slightly shocked and slightly amused.

“Your sister is crazy,” he sighed, still speaking in a whisper. Well, he wasn’t completely wrong. My sister could be a little bit bossy and a perfectionist, especially when she was planning something.

“Is that my brother?” I heard Mavis shout from the kitchen. “Send him in. We need all hands!” Maybe I should have run away after all.

“I warned you,” whispered Jake, then added in a loud voice, “Come in.”

As soon as I stepped into the house, I was greeted by the pleasant scent of sweet pastries and vanilla. Then I noticed balloons and colorful ribbons everywhere.

“She has been baking and decorating the house since dawn,” Jake explained before I could even ask. That was impressive, considering it was almost 4 PM. It also explained why Jake looked so tired.

“Hey, Mavis,” I greeted my sister as I entered the kitchen. She tossed an apron at me instead of returning the greeting. “Chop some veggies for a salad.” She pointed to the vegetables on the kitchen counter.

“Roger that,” I answered, then immediately started chopping a cucumber. I was always a little afraid of arguing with her when she was in that bossy mood, even though my sister had never actually hurt anyone. But I didn’t want to tempt fate.

“Where is Emma, by the way?” She looked at me for the first time, finally noticing that my wife wasn’t with me.

“She felt sick.” I shrugged apologetically, excusing her absence. Mavis looked a little suspicious of me, probably because she could tell I was lying, but she nodded.

The truth was, I didn’t tell my wife about the party. It had been four months since we learned we couldn’t have children and one month since my wife suggested adoption. I never wanted to adopt a child, and I still don’t. The idea of raising someone else’s child has always been scary for me, and I could probably never feel like a real father. We had been arguing a lot about it lately, barely talking about anything else. Even though I knew it was very selfish of me not to tell Emma about the birthday party, being here alone was somewhat refreshing—a brief escape from it all.

“Where is the birthday boy, anyway?” I changed the subject, setting tomatoes on my cutting board.

“With his friends. He’ll be back any moment.” She glanced anxiously at the clock. “Hurry up with that salad, then take it to the living room!”

I quickly finished chopping the remaining vegetables, trying to hide the uneven pieces from Mavi’s sigh. I added only olive oil and salt because I hadn’t had enough time, and probably even the skills, to do anything better.

As soon as I stepped into the living room, I saw two large tables, each covered with food. There were so many dishes, pastries, and snacks that I would need a whole month to eat them all. But the birthday cake was what caught my attention. It was huge, with a big sign that read “Happy Birthday, Luke.” I easily changed the first letter of his name to “P,” and I smiled in amusement at my own cleverness.

“Where are the other kids, by the way?” I asked when I returned to the kitchen, realizing the house had been oddly quiet the whole time.

“They are upstairs,” answered Jake. “Lucky devils,” he added silently as he cleaned the kitchen counter.

“George, Willow, Charlotte, Uncle John is here. Come downstairs to say hi,” yelled Mavis. A minute later, I saw them running down the stairs, excited. I smiled when I heard them laugh and run toward me. But beneath my smile, I felt pain. I always envied my sister for having a big family, and now that I knew I couldn’t have children of my own, watching them made me somewhat sad.

“Hello, Uncle John,” they said almost in unison. The youngest, Charlotte, jumped into my arms, while Willow and George hugged me, melting away my sadness. They were so much younger than Luke. Charlotte was almost two, Willow was five, and George was eight.

“Hello, kiddos,” I greeted them, hugging them back as much as I could, even with Charlotte in my arms. “You are getting heavy,” I told her, setting her down.

“You can’t say that to a girl.” Willow was horrified by my words. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, mostly to Willow, since Charlotte didn’t seem offended by my words.

“Luke is here.” My sister interrupted us, rushing from the window. She tossed me a tube of confetti and put a birthday hat on my head. Oh, are we really doing this?

“Surprise!” Mavis and the kids yelled and threw confetti as soon as Luke opened the door. I did the same, even though I thought it was stupid, and from Luke’s look, I figured he probably thought the same. However, he at least tried to act surprised, and he thanked us for all of that.

“That’s a lot of food.” Luke looked a little astonished as we all moved into the living room. I noticed the sign on the cake had been fixed back to “L,” and Mavis looked daggers at me. Okay, she will probably kill me later.

“You can eat all you want now, but we have some activities to do next,” said Mavis proudly, and they all started eating almost immediately. I seized this opportunity to give Luke a gift.

“Hey, Luke, this is for you. Your mother probably shouldn’t see it.” I handed him a small envelope. “Thank you, Uncle John.” He began to open it.

“What shouldn’t I see?” Mavis suddenly reappeared around us, a suspicious look on her face, and yanked the envelope from Luke’s hands.

“You gave him a voucher for a tandem parachute jump? Do you want him killed?” she asked angrily. “Surprise,” I said sarcastically to Luke. But he seemed to like the gift, since he had always wanted to try it.

“Yeah, that was my plan all along,” I answered my sister sarcastically, but she probably didn’t appreciate the joke, because she glared at me even more furiously than before.

“I will keep this.” Mavis slid the envelope into her pocket and walked away.

“I want that too.” George ran toward us, looking at me with puppy eyes.

“You are afraid of heights,” Luke objected, a little irritated. “You want it only because I have it, right?”

“That’s not true!” George pretended to be offended, even though he knew it was true.

“You are not old enough. I will buy it for you when you are eighteen, okay?” I suggested. George nodded, seeming satisfied with the plan.

“I want it, too. I want to be cool like Luke.” Willow suddenly appeared beside me, startling me.

“Is there anyone who doesn’t want it?” I asked, amused. “I will give it to you, too, when you turn eighteen.”

She looked at me with pleading eyes. “Do you promise?”

I nodded. “Yes, I do.” She looked pleased with my answer and ran off to eat more cupcakes.

“Where is the voucher?” I asked Mavis when she returned. “I hid it,” she answered simply.

“Evidently not very well.” I started to laugh, pointing at Charlotte, who was drawing on the voucher. Mavis looked shocked and rushed over to Charlotte to take it away. It was funny how all of them wanted that voucher, each for a different reason.

“Don’t worry, Luke. I have this voucher in electronic form as well. I will send it to you,” I reassured him, and he looked relieved.

“Thank you,” he said appreciatively. “No problem. Now go enjoy your party.” I nudged him toward the others, who were already playing games.

I watched them play, and they all seemed happy. I smiled as my wife’s words suddenly came to mind: “It doesn’t matter whether the children are biological or not; they always brighten the room.” And for the first time, I truly believed it.

I was lost in my thoughts when Mavis suddenly reappeared beside me. She startled me, but her next question was even more horrifying. “John, have you changed the letter on the cake?” Oh, no. I’m going to die.