Fifty-Five

FIFTY-FIVE
JOE PANCAKE APPROACHED his fifty-fifth birthday with dread. His father had died three months before, his mother had been hospitalized shortly afterwards following hip surgery, Lulu was in a healthy, thriving relationship (she said it was the best in her life), Joe’s own five-year relationship (which he had considered the best he’d ever been in) had ended abruptly–-without explanation (he’d had no part in the decision). And the kids--older now--were facing older problems: Molly had entered the third stage of her depression; Columbus was facing a possible prison term for the distribution of a controlled substance. The only consolation that Joe could pull from the actual day itself was that he had received two cards in the mail: one from his dentist, which read, "May all your birthday wishes come true"; and the other from his automobile insurance agent: "The most important item on my agenda today is to wish you a happy birthday."