The Birthday Party That Wasn’t

“Mr. Ellis, would you mind coming to my office after lunch today? We need to talk.”

He nodded and watched Cecilia Davis walk away, stopping to chat with other residents of Seaside Senior Living on her way out of the dining room. At 1:00, he knocked on the door labeled Social Events Coordinator.

“Come in.” Mrs. Davis smiled as he entered and sat down in the comfortable chair on the other side of the desk from hers. “Prompt as always, I see.”

“Yes. Do I need to guess what you want to see me about? I have a feeling I know.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said. “We go through this every year. Every single year for the past eleven years. Are you going to make me do it again?”

“Not at all. You are the one insisting on having a birthday party for me. I don’t want one. Just accept that and we can move on, both of us happy.”

“Mr. Ellis,” she sighed, “you know I can’t do that. It’s in my job description that I am to coordinate a birthday party for each and every resident, each and every year. All I ask of you is that you tell me your birthdate.”

“Nope.” He sat stoically, staring at Mrs. Davis without blinking.

“I already know it’s in May, Mr. Ellis. Please – please, please, please –

tell me the date so I can get this done. For the past eleven years I have randomly picked a date in May – a different date every year – and you have always said that wasn’t the right one. If you don’t tell me, I have something new to try, one that I guarantee will hit on the right date.”

“Good luck with that,” said Mr. Ellis as he stood up and walked out of the door, leaning heavily on his walker. He didn’t look back.

Mrs. Davis sighed. May was going to difficult.

On May 1, Mrs. Davis hung a banner in the dining room. It said, “Happy Birthday, Mr. Ellis!” He looked at it and said, “Nope.”

On May 2, Mrs. Davis put a bouquet of red, white and blue balloons with a big bow that said “Happy Birthday” on the doorknob of his apartment. When he saw her later, he said, “Nope.”

On May 3, Mrs. Davis hung the banner over the main entrance. Mr. Ellis watched her struggle to hang it and take the time to tack streamers along the bottom edge so they would wave when the door opened or closed. She looked at him and he shook his head. “Nope.”

This went on until the end of the month. On May 30, she had the cooks make a large sheet cake and decorate it with his name and the words Happy Birthday in red icing. Mr. Ellis just shook his head and ate his corner piece of the cake. He liked the roses on the corners, with all of their sugary decadence.

As he left the dining room with the other residents, Mrs. Davis smiled and thought, “Gotcha now! It has to be May 31, tomorrow.”

When she arrived at work the following morning, the Seaside physician was waiting in her office. “Hi, Dr. Ward. You look serious. Is something wrong?”

He tilted his head sideways and regarded her gravely. “I’m afraid I have bad news, Cecilia. One of our residents passed away in his sleep last night. Heart attack. He didn’t suffer.”

“Mr. Ellis?” she asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know you had a special relationship with him.”

“I appreciate your coming to tell me in person. I can’t believe he passed away on his birthday.”

“Why do you think today was his birthday?”

“I know it was in May and it wasn’t May 1 to 30, so it has to be today.”

“You’re right. I looked it up in his medical records, but I couldn’t tell you earlier because I’m bound by confidentiality regulations to not divulge anything unless the patient consents. And he wouldn’t consent. I tried.” Dr. Ward patted Cecilia on the shoulder and left.

Mrs. Davis sat down on her chair and began to laugh. She said to herself, “That old fox! I wouldn’t put it past him to have died on purpose last night so he wouldn’t have to have a party on his birthday.”