Happy Birthday, Vincent

By ChicagoTunnelKid

Vincent sat at his desk with his back to the entrance to his chamber. Catherine walked in and behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” She asked, hugging him.

“Looking at old birthday cards,” he answered, fingering a card that had lace around the edges.

She stood up and moved to sit next to him. She eyed the stack of cards.

“Is this something you do every year?” Although it was the first time she’d seen him do it.

“No, I happened to open my chest, and spied them at the bottom. I couldn’t resist looking at them again.” He smiled sheepishly. “This one,” he indicated the one with lace, “is from Mary for my fourth birthday. ‘To my favorite little boy - ssh! Don’t tell anyone else I said that!’ I found out later that’s what she wrote that year for all the children.”

“And this one?” Catherine held out a card roughly fashioned to be a spaceship.

“That’s from Mouse for my seventh birthday,” he noted. “He said I was out of this world, or tried to.” He shook his head. “At the time, I was a little put out by it. I thought he meant I was an alien.”

Catherine laughed. “And what about this store-bought card?”

“That was from Lisa the year she went away.” He grew thoughtful. “All it had was her signature under a very simple birthday wish. But she remembered, and at that time, it meant a lot to me.”

“You have a lot of memories in that pile.”

“Yes.”

“What is it, Vincent? You seem almost melancholy. You are supposed to be happy on your birthday!”

“It’s another year older. I think my birthday is harder than New Year’s Eve, because I wonder how long I have in this world, being who I am, and how many dreams will go unfulfilled.” His eyes looked sorrowful.

She took his hands in hers and clasped them tightly. “I don’t know how long you will have, Vincent, but I do know that I will be with you for all of them.” She held his hands until he looked her in the eyes. “You believe that, don’t you?”

He nodded, slightly.

She rummaged in her purse and produced an envelope. “I think it’s time for me to give you a new birthday card for your memory pile.” She held it out to him.

He took it, slit the envelope with a nail, and pulled out the card. He admired the intricate design on the front, and finally opened it. His eyes followed the written words. He laid it down, reached for her hand, and pulled her up and into his arms as he stood.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “That one I’ll keep forever.”

The couple held each other for some time, sharing small kisses as a reminder of their feelings for one another. Finally, they separated and headed out for Vincent’s party. Her card lay open on the table:

“My love,

I give my heart to your keeping, for it is yours with all my love. Never doubt that I love you. Doubt only the fickleness of time, for only time will limit our being together. We will live our dream - I know it, believe it, for both of us until that time when you believe it, too, and it is no longer a dream, but real.

I love you,

Catherine”