Not much good... a couple of plane crash updates and some opinionated pundits and a minority rights activist making what Zephyr thought was a big deal out of nothing. Suddenly he realized something.

"Hey, Reg, today's January twelve! You know what that is? It's my birthday!"

"Not another holiday," Reg grumbled with a dismaying lack of enthusiasm.

"No, not really," Zephyr sighed. "It's not important. I was just saying." He wished he hadn't remembered at all now. It was silly to be disappointed anyway; could he really have expected more out of Reg? Reg couldn't even remember his own birthday! Zephyr wasn't even sure the date on Reg's birth certificate was correct. He had done his best to be accurate when he had forged it, but Reg had never been very forthcoming about personal information. The guy just didn't care. There wasn't anything Zephyr could do about it.

The day didn't have to be completely wasted, though. He needed to give Reg a haircut and do a week's worth of laundry, but after that maybe they could rent a movie and make some nachos.

He sat Reg down in the kitchen, and as he sucked Reg's hair up into the vacuum trimmer (Reg would never in a million years sit still for scissors, but the electric hum of the trimmer calmed him) he caught himself singing "Happy Birthday" to himself. He stopped before it darkened his mood further. Maybe Portia would call today, he thought. Oh, but he hadn't called her on her last birthday, so it wasn't guaranteed. Birthdays weren't really a DeCastle tradition.

He then sent Reg to the shower to wash off the stray bits of hair, and when Reg was clean and settled comfortably on the couch again, Zephyr set off to tackle the laundry. He was glad Reg showed no interest in going to work today. This passive apathy wasn't ideal, either, but it sure beat Reg's earlier obsessiveness. Zephyr had been worrying he was going to work himself into the ground again.

He didn't have much energy, himself. He hauled several loads downstairs, put one in to wash, and when he got upstairs again he collapsed into his chair, put his feet up, and closed his eyes.

He opened them again when he felt a soft touch on his head. Reginald stood over him, to the left of the chair, and bent down and kissed him again. Zephyr grinned up at him. He was hungry and realized that it was already midafternoon sometime, but lunch could wait. He stood up and let Reg kiss him more, wondering whether he should bother leading them into the bedroom or they should just do it here.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Zephyr swore passionately, pushed Reg off him, and scrambled to retrieve his tee shirt. Poor Reg sat back, looking very disoriented. Zephyr strained upward to peek out the window and recognized Marsh's car in the driveway. By now hopelessly tangled in his tee shirt, he swore again as the doorbell rang a second time. "Be right there!" he shouted. To Reg he said, "It's Marsh. Can you button your shirt back up, and... and your fly..."

Reg sat dazed and didn't move.

Zephyr finally got himself disentangled and hugged Reg with one arm. "I know, man, and I'm sorry. I feel the same way. But that's life, I guess." He took Reg's hands in his own and then placed them near Reg's lowest button and buttonhole. "Come on, man, you can do it. Do your buttons and I'll go answer the door."

The doorbell rang again. Zephyr stood up, not entirely sure Reg could manage on his own but feeling too rushed to be helpful. He yelled, "Coming!" and hurried to the door. He must have still been a mess... no point in dwelling on that, though. He opened the door and stepped back to let his guest in.

Or guests. "Happy birthday, Zephyr!" Tracy exclaimed from the doorway. She met his eyes as she entered, and her grin quickly faded into a look of concern. "Did we come at a bad time? I guess we should have called first."

"No, it's okay," Zephyr assured her. "I was just, um, doing nothing important."

He took her jacket and Marsh's and draped them over the banister (hanging them up would have taken too long) and ushered them into the kitchen. Marsh nodded politely and obliged, but Tracy lingered upon spotting Reg, who still sat on the living room floor, deeply engaged in button number three.

"Oh," she said, "We did interrupt you. Oh, Zephyr, I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, really. Just... give me a minute." When Tracy was safely out of sight, he threw on his slippers and a sweater and then helped Reg stand up. After assisting in the final touches of getting Reg dressed, he led him into the kitchen.

Marsh and Tracy had arranged a cake, some vegetables and rice, and a bottle of wine on the table. "We thought we'd make you guys dinner," Tracy explained.

"Cool," Zephyr said, smiling. "We haven't eaten yet."

Marsh looked at him and at Tracy. "Oh, you want to cook it now, then? I thought we could use the wok I got you, Zeph."

"Sure, go nuts! It's in the pantry. I haven't had a chance to use it yet, so you can be the first. This is cool. And a cake, too, with my name on it... spelled right! Thanks, guys." Zephyr pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat Reg in it.

Tracy gawked at Reg as she helped herself to another chair. "Is he all right?" she asked Zephyr.

"Oh, yeah, he's fine. He does this a lot after a really stressful week at work. His way of unwinding." Zephyr said it as much to convince himself as to reassure her. What he had said was true, but Reg's lethargy could also have been a sign of a variety of other problems. But Zephyr refused to consider those possibilities, with the vague promise to himself that if Reg didn't snap out of it by tomorrow, he'd allow himself to worry. Reg's earlier willingness to fool around was a good sign, but it certainly didn't dispel the possibility of more serious troubles.

Tracy seemed to accept his explanation. "It's great to see you two again," she said.

"Yeah. It's been a long time, huh? Where ya been?"

"Busy. The lab gave me a full-time position a few months ago, and I've been neglecting my social life."

Zephyr grinned at her. "No way! Congrats!"

"Thanks," Tracy said, returning his smile.

"Is the money any good?"

Tracy laughed shortly. "Well, now I can afford my rent and groceries, so that's a step up. Actually, we get great benefits."

"That's cool." The phone rang and Zephyr shot it a disdainful glare, but Tracy and Marsh seemed to have things under control. "Excuse me," Zephyr mumbled, and hurried into the living room.

The answering machine caught it before he did. "This is Zephyr; leave a message."

"Zephyr, it's your mother. Are you there? Just calling to..."

Zephyr picked up the receiver. "Hi," he said.

"I wish you wouldn't screen your phone calls," Marlone said.

"I wasn't! I have some friends over and it took me a minute to do what I was doing and get to the phone."

"Oh, is it Marsh?" Zephyr thought his mother sounded a little too enthusiastic.

"Yes, Marsh is one of them."

"Say hi for me, will you? What are you doing?"

"Having stir-fry and cake," Zephyr told her.

"Oh." Marlone paused. "Zeph, I found out about the money you gave the kids..."

Damn, thought Zephyr, Portia went and told her and now she's going to have some petty issue with it. "It's not money, Mom," he said. "It's college funds."

"You know what I meant. And yes, it is money."

"No, it's an investment. You can spend money."

"Zephyr, would you stop arguing with me! For Chrissakes, every time I try to talk to you, you jump down my throat. Me and you need to be able to talk about important things rationally, like financial matters and stuff. So if you can just get over yourself for a few minutes, okay, maybe we can have a reasonable conversation."

Zephyr grumbled under his breath and threw himself into his chair.

"What did you say?" his mother pressed.

"Nothing." God, he so wanted to be in the kitchen hearing what Marsh and Tracy were laughing about, but he couldn't. "Okay, Mom, what's up?"

"I just thought we should get together as a family and write up a plan. That would be much better than each of us just throwing money around whenever we're in the mood."

"Mu--" Zephyr could barely think straight, never mind speak straight. How dare she? "Mom... I'm not throwing money around! God! And, and what do you mean by 'family'? I'm not... I'm..."

"Family as in the DeCastle family. Your fucking blood relatives, Zephyr. As imperfect as we are, we're the only ones you've got, and the only ones I've got. We shouldn't take each other for granted. We all need to try harder to work together as a unit."

A unit? Oh, like the unit they had twenty or so years ago, when Zephyr was stuck trying to hold the house together while Marlone and Portia went off doing their respective whatever the hell they wanted? The unit Marlone formed when she referred to him as "the other one"? He'd bet that if he mentioned that, she'd deny it ever happened. Or maybe it was the unit that left him and Portia with an empty pantry because Marlone couldn't be bothered to go grocery shopping. He didn't owe her anything. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

Marlone rambled on and on about her plan. Zephyr mused that it seemed to involve a lot of joint-access investments and a large dose of blind trust. He listened to Tracy giggling in the kitchen and wondered what she and Marsh were doing, and whether Reg was involved. The aroma of steak sautéed in teriyaki and assorted spices beckoned to his empty stomach. And of course there was that cake.

Finally he spoke up. "Mom? Mom, your plan sounds very well thought out. I know we're family, and I appreciate that. But I'm an adult, and I have my own plan. And just because I don't tell you everything doesn't mean I'm not taking my family into consideration. I hope I proved that with the college funds I gave the kids."

"Zephyr!"

"What?"

"Don't you listen for even a minute? That's not even what I'm talking about! What I'm saying is that all this money stuff would work better if we communicated better. But how can we communicate if we never listen to each other? All your life you've been..."

Zephyr was very tempted to blow up at her. What did she know about what he'd been all his life? He'd been afraid of her, afraid to hope she'd do something nice for him. He couldn't remember ever getting a birthday present from her, and he'd had to resign himself to the knowledge that if she did attend a party on January 12, it wouldn't involve cake and he wouldn't be invited. A couple of times, she had even taken away presents other people had gotten him. It was just more of the same low expectations he'd always had.

But here he was, turning 33, with good friends cooking a delicious meal in the next room for no better reason than that they thought his birthday was worth celebrating. He had wallowed in self-pity all morning and was glad to be done, and now his mother was doing her best to drag him back into it.

He sighed heavily.

"Mom, I do understand what you're saying. And I want to thank you. Thanks for calling and wishing me a happy birthday. It's the best present you've given me in a long time."

"Zephyr, don't give me attitude."

"I'm not! I really mean it. It was really nice to hear from you. I have to go now; I think supper's ready. Oh, and Mom, about the $12,000 I gave the kids... you're welcome."

"Zephyr..."

"I hope this redeems me on the whole issue about my will."

"No, that's another matter entirely," Marlone said. "I really think you..."

Zephyr wasn't about to let her slip into yet another tirade. "Talk to you later, Mom." And he hung up. As he returned to the kitchen, the smell of stir-fry hit him so hard that he thought he'd go mad unless he ate some right now.

****

That evening, long after Marsh and Tracy left, Reginald handed something to Zephyr.

"What's this?" Zephyr asked as he took it. The question was rhetorical; he easily recognized it as a laser pointer on a keychain.

Reg paused for a moment. "I didn't understand," he finally said. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

Zephyr smiled at him. "It's okay, man."

"I didn't understand. I didn't know."

"It's okay." Zephyr reached out to hug Reg, and Reg grabbed him and held him. He rested his head on Reg's shoulder. "It's the best birthday present I've ever gotten."

"No," Reg said.

"Yeah, I mean it! It means the world to me."

"No," Reg insisted. "I didn't give you the other part."

"The other part?"

"I didn't finish making it yet," Reg said.

Zephyr wondered as he clung to Reg what the other part would be. Knowing Reg, it could be just about anything. But what he had at that moment was good enough for him.