It’s B’s birthday, and he has some plans on how to celebrate in lockdown, that involve beer and a video game.
First up, he wants to legally purchase a six-pack of beer. He doesn’t need any beer. He just wants to buy some, now that he can. Now that if he gets asked for ID he can provide it proudly, and make some clever comment about it being his birthday today. So we drive to Chisholm’s, our local convenience store. Chisholm’s is not that convenient – unless it’s corned beef , rice or red kidney beans you’re after – but they have recently upped their game in the alcohol department. So wide is their selection that they made the news in January, when the 7.7 Richter scale earthquake sent their shelves full of wine smashing dramatically to the floor, and the CC TV camera footage went viral. So we arrive at the store, and B gets out the black truck, wearing a mask and sunglasses, looking more like he’s about the rob the place than perform a legal transaction. However he is in and out within 5 minutes, triumphant with carrier bag containing a cold six-pack, three limes and a bag of Doritos. He climbs back inside the truck.
“It went well, then?” I ask.
“No,” says B, glumly, “the cashier didn’t ask me for ID.”
In the evening, one of B’s friends walks down the beach. All B wants for his birthday, he tells us, is to invite his friend inside to play on the Xbox. But we won’t allow it because we are cruel, unnecessarily strict adults. So D sets up the console and a screen out on the deck, with two chairs, 6 feet apart. The lads are satisfied with the compromise. It’s quite a sight, the two friends, playing video games outdoors in the dusk, wearing masks, every so often slipping a corona beer bottle underneath their masks to take a swig.
That night I share with B a short video that I have made, using photos of him from birth until today. He awkwardly watches himself grow on screen. His whole life squeezed into four minutes. It went so quickly, I think to myself. We have dinner, champagne, cake, candles and A trying to make her FatCat squeak the tune to Happy Birthday as if the cat were bagpipes.
B seems suitably happy with his small scale celebration. Secretly, I preferred it to anything grander.
Good night.
