A Birthday Wish for More

Daniel Rouge sat alone in his favorite recliner on his eighty-second birthday, holding a photo album his daughter Suzanne had gifted him. He had only turned a few pages to the year 1959, when a tear rolled down his cheek.

The black-and-white photo showed him as a young man. Standing with his best friend, brother, and girlfriend. Him grinning as he stood tall on his new dirt bike.

With arthritic hands, Daniel flipped a few pages to a photo of his brother and him just before their hockey tryouts in 1962. His knees had never recovered from years spent playing goalie—hard work that led nowhere.

Next came 1974, holding his son Donald, shortly after his birth. It had been a hard time for him and his wife, made worse after he lost his job as a security guard. Money was tight while his brother got a million-dollar contract with a professional hockey team, something Daniel was always envious of.

He closed the book. His tired eyes drifted around his living room in need of repair with lime-green wallpaper peeling off. His eyes met a framed picture of his wife Betty, now deceased. He always wished he could have done more for her when she was diagnosed with lung cancer, but his efforts all failed.

This was the first birthday since the age of fifteen that she wasn't there to watch him blow out his candles and make a wish. In a moment of sorrow, he stubbornly told his children he wanted to celebrate alone.

Daniel looked at the birthday cake that had been left by a nurse who had since gone home. Two candles sat on top, mocking him. He pulled a lighter from his front pocket and lit it. The two flames danced on strings as wax ran down onto the icing.

“What should my wish be this year?” he asked himself.

Daniel thought back on his life and all his missed opportunities. “I wish I had done more with my life.” He blew the candles out.

He glanced upward, half expecting his world would have changed. But since everything was the same, he retired to bed.

Upon awakening, intense light filled his bedroom, with a woman’s form hovering before him. Her long dress drifting by an absent wind, her arms outstretched and touching nothing, her face hidden.

“I have granted your wish,” spoke the spirit.

“Who are you?”

“The answer is beyond your understanding,” the apparition raised its arms higher. “Listen to my terms. You may return to any moment you touch, but each time, one person from your past will have their existence altered forever.”

“You mean they will disappear?”

The spirit didn't answer the question, continuing to float in infinite space. “You will receive three chances to change your past.” It continued. “But once you begin, you must fulfill all opportunities.”

“Why?” Daniel's voice cracked with fear.

“The answer is beyond your understanding.”

Daniel's mouth was too dry for speaking, and a large lump had formed in his throat, so he nodded instead.

The spirit placed its hands together; the light dimming.

When Daniel opened his eyes, he was back in his favorite recliner staring at lime-green wallpaper. In his lap, the photo album his daughter had gifted him. He opened the book, with the photo of him dirt biking staring back. He would cherish reliving that time again. Pushing aside the threat from the spirit, Daniel pressed his finger on a picture.

Crack! The sound of lightning hitting an object tore through Daniel's chest, terrifying him.

At first, Daniel couldn't see where he was, but as the image became clearer, he noticed he was surrounded by several teenage boys, each standing next to dirt bikes.

“Are you too scared to ride it?” The young boy talking was his brother Trevor. Sixteen years old again.

Daniel was stunned, his eyes locked on his boyish face. “You're alive, Trev?”

Trevor’s eyes shot wide open. “Of course, the new jump isn't that big.” He pointed to a pile of dirt.

Daniel remembered it well. This was the day he crashed and broke his arm, he could not take part in his hockey tryouts, ending his hockey career before it started. His friend David panicked while attempting the jump, braking hard, creating a large rut on the dirt ramp which Daniel didn't see.

“I knew he would chicken out,” Betty said, sitting on a rock while smoking a cigarette.

Daniel's heart pumped out of his chest seeing his future wife, young again. Her youthful eyes gleamed back at him.

“Go for it, or get out of the way!” Trevor shouted.

Daniel stood tall on his Triumph TR6 Scrambler, kicking over the engine with ease as it roared to life. There was no pain in his knees, and his back was strong. The ramp seemed smaller than he remembered.

With a quick twist of the throttle, the rear tire spun, kicking dirt into Trevor’s face, him shielding his eyes as Daniel sped down the trail.

This time, he targeted the left side, remembering the large divot that had caught his front tire over sixty-seven years prior, sending him tumbling.

The group reacted with shock upon seeing him land safely, having flown farther than anyone else, and they cheered enthusiastically because of that.

“Now, this moment needs a picture.” Trevor said, holding up his Kodak Brownie camera.

Daniel strolled back, his eyes searching for his best friend David, who had stood next to him in the photo taken right before he attempted the jump.

“Where's Dave?” Daniel asked Betty as she ran closer, throwing her cigarette butt away and giving him a hug.

“Who?” Betty asked.

A chill crept over Daniel as a single bead of sweat rolled down his neck. His eyes swept the scene again, lingering where David should have been. But the space remained empty. David hadn’t missed the moment but was removed from it. The weight of his agreement with the ghost crashed down. The spirit’s words returned to him as he squeezed his eyes tight, his breath unsteady, trying to deny what he already knew. Daniel had condemned his friend to something worse than death; he had never existed.

When he reopened his eyes, he was sitting in a recliner, his wrinkled hands holding the photo album his daughter had gifted him.

Daniel was an old man once more, but no longer in his home with peeling lime-green wallpaper. He glanced around the large house. A stone fireplace climbed the three-story height, a hand-carved staircase wound through the room, and a wall comprising floor-to-ceiling windows. Daniel opened the photo album as memories flooded him from a life he hadn't lived.

Since he never broke his arm, his hockey tryouts proved successful, and a few years later, earning him a place on a professional hockey team. It was a rough time for his family, always traveling, but Betty stuck by his side.

Unable to look at the picture after he made the jump, he grabbed a stack of pages, flipping to a photo of him and his brother, both wearing Toronto Maple Leafs jerseys before heading out onto the ice for game seven in 1974. Daniel was their starting goalie.

Daniel recalled the moments after the picture was taken. It had been an intense game, his team barely holding onto their one-goal lead. With less than a minute to go, a forward slipped past his defense. The skater moved the puck with such ease that Daniel struggled to follow it. When the player took the slapshot, it vanished, then reappeared after hitting the back of the net, tying the game.

The coach benched Daniel, concerned that he was getting careless. His replacement, a rookie goalie, let the losing goal in after four minutes and thirty seconds into the fourth period. Daniel blamed himself for putting the team in overtime, costing them the Stanley Cup.

That memory plagued him on repeat as he contemplated all the ways it could have gone better. His hockey career never recovered, and a few seasons later, he was traded to the Philadelphia Flyers, a decision beyond Daniel's control, which added additional strain to his marriage.

Daniel dug his fingers into his palm, grinding his teeth. How much he wished he had stopped that goal. His knuckle drifted down onto the picture, touching it.

Crack! The sound of lightning was even louder this time as a bright light blinded him.

When his vision returned, he was wearing goalie gear and standing in front of a net. This was the game where everything changed.

“Break away, Danny!” his coach exclaimed.

In front of Daniel, coming full force with a puck moving like magic, was the opponent who bested him fifty-two years ago. Daniel tapped his stick on the ice and locked his shoulders in place. “Not this time.”

The puck disappeared after the slapshot. Daniel threw his glove high and to his left, snatching the rubber disk from the air.

“What a save!” the announcer erupted over the roar of the audience. “The Rouge brothers are unstoppable tonight!”

With only twenty seconds left in the game, the rival team could not get another shot on net, ending the game one to zero. Daniel had, in that moment, cemented himself as a hockey legend, winning the Stanley Cup.

Even with champagne bottles popping and cheering throughout the change room, there was only one person Daniel wanted to celebrate with, but Betty was nowhere to be found. He assumed she must have stayed home with the kids.

“I'm going to call my wife.” Daniel said to his couch.

“You’re married?” Was his only response.

As if an icy hand had grabbed the back of Daniel’s neck, he ignored him, running to the closest pay phone, his fingers shaking as he inserted coins.

“Nice save, brother.” Trevor said, coming over.

“Not now!” Daniel turned his back. The phone continued to ring with no answer. “Where's Betty?” Daniel grabbed Trevor by the jersey.

“Who's Betty?”

“My wife, she should be home with Suzanne and Donald.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Trevor took a long sip from a bottle. “You don’t have a family, Danny.”

Daniel feared the worst as he left the stadium before the celebrations had finished. He felt disoriented as his car maneuvered through icy, slow traffic. Where were his wife and children? Would that spirit have taken them too? He had to get back to his home with the lime-green wallpaper and make sure they were safe.

Daniel’s attention wandered, and he didn’t see the stopped cars until it was too late. He pressed the brake pedal down hard as his car skidded out of control.

Crash! His front end collided with a stopped truck. Daniel flew into the windshield, striking his head on the glass. He lay across the dashboard, blood running down his forehead. The city's winter landscape was replaced by a bright light with the same shadowy woman floating in front.

“Where’s my family?” Daniel pleaded.

“The answer to that is beyond your understanding.”

“I'm tired of your mind games. Why have you done this?”

“The answer to that is beyond…”

Daniel interrupted. “My understanding. Ya! I get it.”

The creature closed its hands as the light burned Daniel’s eyes. When he could see again, he was sitting in a recliner looking down at his old, wrinkled hands. The photo album his daughter gifted him was gone, replaced with a binder filled with newspaper clippings. He was back in this strange house surrounded by sports-memorial.

Daniel flipped through the pages of his new life. Saving that goal was pivotal in his career. He had his choice of teams to play for, and when he retired in 1981, so was his jersey number. All the pictures showed a fulfilled Daniel, smiling into cameras, but the truth was, he was lonely. This life was a poor replacement for losing a good woman and two loving children.

A servant walked over and placed a birthday cake beside him. “Happy birthday, Mr. Rouge.”

Daniel’s eighty-second birthday cake sat lonely on the table. He missed Betty more than previously, and now mourned the loss of his children. He struggled after Betty's death, but now, not even having a life with her was something he wouldn't allow himself to comprehend.

Angrily, he looked down at the scrapbook. This life ridiculed him. He threw the book against the wall. It exploded on contact, small pieces of paper flying in all directions before floating to the floor.

“How do I fix this?” he said as a single photo, which landed on top of the pile, caught his attention. It was a picture of him right before the dirt bike jump. It had remained unchanged. Himself standing next to Trevor, David, and Betty. “Dave disappeared only after I changed something,” Betty’s smile in the picture captivated him. “One person will have their existence altered, ” he said, repeating the words of the spirit. Daniel paused, reconsidering what it meant. “It never said they disappear, only that their life is changed.” He scooped up the picture, pressing his finger hard against the black-and-white film.

Crack! The sound of lightning struck again.

Daniel opened his eyes.

“Are you too scared to ride it,” Trevor said.

He was back on the dirt-biking trail in 1959. Taking it all in, Trevor was adjusting his chain, Betty was smoking on a nearby rock, and David was picking up his bike after wiping out on the jump.

“I knew he would chicken out,” Betty said, taking a drag.

Daniel tossed his Triumph onto the ground, walking over to Betty, who was blowing rings past him.

“If you're afraid,” Betty said, “just admit it.”

Daniel grabbed the cigarette from her mouth.

“What the hell!” Betty snapped back.

“Do you know how bad these are for you?”

“Don't be such a loser, Danny.” Betty plucked the cigarette back.

“If you keep smoking…” Daniel didn't know what to threaten with. “I'm breaking up with you… right now!” Daniel locked his eyes on Betty's to show he was serious.

Betty raised her hands in defense. “Relax, I'll stop if it means that much to you.” She threw it down, stepping on it as smoke curled up.

“Thank you. It does more than you know.”

Trevor howled from behind. “Go for it, or get out of the way!”

Daniel turned his attention to Trevor. “Not this time.” He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was sitting in his favorite chair, his wrinkled hands holding the photo album his daughter had gifted him. He was back in his living room with lime-green wallpaper peeling in the corners. In front of him sat a birthday cake with the numbers eight and two on top, flames dancing and ready for a wish.

“What is your wish going to be this year?” Betty said, sitting in the recliner next to him.

Daniel couldn't move his head fast enough when he heard his wife's voice. Speechless, he stared at her. She was alive again. Her grey hair perfectly complemented the creases that followed her smile. She had never looked so beautiful to him.

“You never know what to ask for.” She chuckled. “Hurry up; the family will be here soon for your party.”

“You're right.” Daniel glanced around his living room. “Because I have everything I need.” He blew out the candles making no wish, smoke drifting up from the wicks.

“Lovely gift Suzanne made for you.” Betty said, gesturing to the photo album in Daniel’s hands.

They flipped through a few pages together: the birth of their daughter, him leaving for work as a security guard, and his new favorite picture—himself, Trevor, David, and Betty standing next to his brand-new Triumph TR6 Scrambler.

“We had quite a life together,” Betty said.

Daniel closed the book. “I wouldn't change a thing.”