“I might give it a shot one night. See what the food options are, how close I can get to an Earth meal,” Amity surprised him by saying. “It might be kind of nice to eat in once in a while.”
“I would like that,” he jumped in. Then maybe they could enjoy a meal alone. Besides Faith and Bragg, other diners joined them at the table. He and Amity hadn’t eaten alone together since arriving on Refuge. He had no issues with Bragg—he wouldn’t have rescued him if he did—and Faith’s company was congenial, but he coveted precious alone-time with his wife.
“She’s a good cook,” Faith said.
“Great.” What she cooked didn’t matter. She could slap together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and he’d love it—as long as it was just the two of them.
Amity glanced toward the kitchen again. “We’ll…do it one evening, then,” she said distractedly. “You want to go shopping with me at the mercantile? We can pick out ingredients together, and I’ll cook one night.”
“It’s a date!” he said.
The mess hall noise spiked. All heads turned toward a robo wheeling into the dining hall with a burning object clutched in its spindly metal arms.
“Oh, no! What the hell?” Amity cried.
To his surprise, the robo rolled to their table. The flaming object appeared to have been a cake. A torch stuck in the middle of it had set the topping on fire. The robo set the flaming cake and a small stack of plates in front of him.
The two aliens at the end of their table gawked. “Humans! Strange people,” muttered one.
“Happy birthday to you,” John launched into song. The women joined in, racing through the lyrics.
“Dear Marshall, happy birthday to you. And many more!”
“Hurry! Blow it out before the cake burns any more!” Amity cried.
Blow it out? He needed an extinguisher. He could barbecue a steak on the flame.
“Make a wish first!”
“I wish for—”
“No, don’t tell us! It won’t come true if you tell us!”
I wish for a future with you.He downed the water in his glass and snuffed out the torch with the empty vessel. Blowing on burning blackened lumps atop the cake, he put out the rest of the fire. Smoke and the odor of char wafted up from the cake.
Amity looked close to tears. “Dammit! I wanted today to be perfect!”
“What’s today?”
“Your birthday! Isn’t today the anniversary of the day you emerged from the cloning tank?”
He blinked. “Yes, it is.”
“This is supposed to be your birthday cake,” she said unhappily. “I asked for a big candle. Something got lost in the translation. Fortunately, I only requested one candle, or the cake could have set the mess hall on fire.”
People celebrated birthdays, but he never had. His life hadn’t been worth commemorating, and there had been no one to celebrate with. He looked at Amity over the top of the cake. Touched beyond belief, he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Why only one candle?” Faith asked.
“I didn’t know what the appropriate age would be—the number of years since he’d been out of the tank—or the age he typifies.” She sought Marshall’s gaze. “So, I decided one would signify the first year of a fresh start.”
“Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me. Thank you.” He found his voice. She’d not only remembered what he’d told her, she’d sought to do something special for him. He suspected the others were in on it—they’d refused dessert. “You knew about this?” he asked their friends.
“Yeah! Serve the cake already!” Bragg motioned. “It can’t be burned all the way through.”
Amity scraped off the char then cut it and passed the slices around. Marshall took his very first bite of birthday cake.
“Well?” she asked. “How is it?”