Whole Lotto Love

'Happy birthday, Steve!'

'Yeah, cheers mate.'

Steve sighed and rubbed his head like he'd been told happy birthday for 475^th time today. He shut the door of his skoda and fiddled around in his boot for his coat and Iron Maiden hat. People reach an age when they don't get that excited about their birthday. They have a full night's sleep before and don't ask for anything. They get on with the day like it's any other, only with a few empty cards and gift vouchers to keep them company.

'Same birthday as Eddie Van Halen.' I tried.

Thank God for Google, who I think invented it. I've no idea who Eddie Van Halen is, but I presumed a rock star with the same birthday as Steve would be a good point of conversation. Turned out it wasn't.

'Yeah...'

'...It's Axl Rose's on the 6^th of February.'

I think I was pushing it already.

'Cool.'

'And Phil Collins' on Sunday.'

Steve looked at me like I'd just killed a cat. And even worse, like I liked Phil Collins. It had been a tough couple of weeks for Steve. His girlfriend had a wrestling accident and underwent surgery, not before refusing to marry him. Not a lot of men can say that, can they? There's at least two things in that sentence that aren't quite right. Steve had tried to keep cheerful over the last few days. He visited Mary everyday, reading articles from the Metallica UK Frenzy Fan-club Magazine (or MUFF Mag, as they call it. The nurses were giving them very funny looks.) whilst feeding her grapes. He did realise why marrying her didn't sit right and that asking her was out of fear rather than love. He had remained cheerful but I guess the morning of his birthday brought it home. He didn't have that Steve-bullshitting-glint in his eye. He didn't appear to have any stories or lessons to tell. And unbelievably, he worked an hour of his shift without going into the store and pissing about to waste time.

'Looking forward to the buffet later?'

'What?' Steve stopped in his tracks. 'There's a buffet?'

'Yeah.'

His face suddenly turned animated and a little smile cracked on his face. Maybe it was the idea of free food. We all like free stuff, we all like food. Put those two together and you've got yourself a party. But ours was a buffet to celebrate Pay Day. It's done every month. Fizzy pop on the tables, glitter in the ash trays. Free sausage rolls. The essentials.

'They've put on a buffet for my birthday?'

I couldn’t say no, could I? Only a week ago his girlfriend refused to marry him in a hospital. I couldn't go lower than that.

'Yeah, if you like.'

Those words helped. 'If you like.' It's like when you ask for a Christmas present and your Mum says 'We'll see.' It's always going to turn up on Christmas morning.

'Wow...'

I think that was the first time Steve had said 'Wow' in his life. I couldn't take that away from him. The birthday buffet was on.

'There's no banners, Dylan.'

'Yeah, we thought it would be a nice and understated party, you know? Not to funky.'

'Ahh, right.'

I was doing well at this bullshitting thing. Maybe my time spent with Steve was getting to me, or maybe I didn't want to see him have a nervous breakdown in front of the scotch eggs. He sat down with a plate of food and tucked in, whilst Sharon ushered me over to the corner.

'Afternoon, Dylan.'

'Sharon.' I nodded.

'It's a big day for Steve today.'

'I know. Birthday. Same day as Eddie Van Halen.'

Sharon looked at me like I just spoke in Hebrew.

'No, Mary's coming in.'

'What?'

'She's coming in.' Sharon said, in between sips of her coffee.

'What for? To work?'

'God no. For a chat with everyone. I imagine we've got a card for her and a collection. That's what people do, isn't it?'

If anyone bothered to and remembered who she was, yes.

'OK, but we can't make it too much of a big deal.' I said.

'Why not?'

'It's Steve's birthday and he's been through a lot.'

'Don't you think Mary has?'

'Yes, yes. Of course.'

'Surgery, Dylan.'

'Wasn't life threatening or anything.' I shrugged.

'Dylan!''

'OK, sorry. But it's Steve's birthday too.'

'Have you got a collection for him?'

No, I've just pretended this Pay Day Buffet is for him. That's more than a collection. I sat down with Steve and wished him happy birthday again, placing an onion bhaji on his paper plate.

'Thanks, mate.'

'No problem.'

We sat and ate in silence. I noticed Steve looking around the canteen every so often.

'There's not a lot of people at my party, Dylan?'

'Oh no, that's the theme.' I said quickly.

'The theme?'

'The theme.'

'My party's got a theme?'

'Sure it has! Every party's got a theme. And I've based yours on... a concert after-show!'

Steve scanned the room again.

'Have you?'

'Yeah, look. All the used places on the back table, that's where the band all sat. Probably smoking crack or something...'

Or where the manager's all sat. Eating sandwiches. Half an hour ago.

'It's all messy and used... this place. The tablecloths are stained. The fizzy pop is half drunk. You've just got to pretend it's whiskey.'

I was sweating now. The perfect time for Mary to wheel herself into the room from her wheelchair.

'Hey, I've got a birthday treat for you!' I said, rubbing my hands together. 'Please welcome, drum role please! Mary!!!'

Thank God for that, I couldn't do party planning on my own. Far too stressful. Steve and Mary embraced like they'd not seen each other for weeks, even though Steve went to visit her last night with more grapes. I was right, no one was around for Mary's arrival. It was just gone half one and everyone was back at work. We sat and drank cherryade whilst Mary talked me through the surgery, but as soon as there was a crack in the conversation, Steve interrupted.

'So, where's my present?' He said, gleaming at Mary and banging his hands on the table.

'Well, it's nothing much.' Mary smiled. 'But I think it's pretty cool.'

Mary pulled out a white envelope from her pocket. Steve's face fell upon seeing the size of it.

'Oh...an envelope...'

'Well, open it....'

Steve didn't look like he could be bothered opening it, but did so after a few seconds of huffing.

'It's...it's...lottery tickets....' Steve said, pulling out a few slips of paper. 'Ten lottery tickets.'

'Ten. Lottery. Tickets.' Mary said proudly.

I had to to help Steve. There wasn't going to be a nervous breakdown on my watch.

'You do realise, Mary...there's more chance of him being hit by lightning than winning the lottery?'

How does that help?

'Dylan!'

'I've not even been hit by lightning yet, Mary.' Steve said solemnly.

'You never know. Plus, I’ve got you something else.'

'If it's ten more lottery tickets I’ll be disappointed.'

'No...here....'

Mary pulled out yet another while envelope from her other pocket.

'Another envelope?' Steve said.

'Yes, but this one is different.'

Steve fished around until he found something, then lifted it out. It was a silver key.

'Oh, is this....like a metaphor...?' Steve nodded. 'Like...a key to your heart? Because I've been given this before...'

'No, it's a real key. To my flat.'
'Oh, Mary...I don't know what to say!' Steve stood up quickly with a huge smile on his face.

'Happy birthday, Steve!'

They hugged and kissed again, like people who are in sickly love do.

'It's Eddie Van Halen's birthday too!' Steve said, with a little tear appearing from his eye.

'I bet he didn't get lottery tickets!' Mary bellowed with excitement.

No, no I don't think he did. Phil Collins probably will, though.