Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 15
Birthday Party

Saturday morning arrived with Shannon's announcement: "Declan's birthday party is today!"

Ash looked up from his oatmeal. His brother's birthday. The brother who was now 22 while Ash was physically 2.

"We're having everyone over for lunch," Shannon continued, wiping a smudge of oatmeal from his chin. "Claire and her husband, Cathy, and Declan of course. It'll be nice to have the family together."

Nice. That was one word for it.

Ash's stomach churned. He'd seen Claire once, briefly and awkwardly. But all of them together? Performing as Noam in front of his siblings?

"I don't want to," he said quietly.

Shannon paused, washcloth in hand. "Honey, it's a family party. Of course you'll be there."

"I don't want everyone to see me like this."

"They already know about your situation. They've all been asking to visit." Shannon's voice was gentle but firm. "This is a good opportunity for everyone to see how well you're adjusting."

Adjusting. Like it was something to show off.

After breakfast, Shannon dressed him in what she called his "party outfit"—khaki shorts and a polo shirt with a tiny embroidered sailboat. Toddler preppy. Ash felt ridiculous.

"So handsome!" Shannon praised, combing his hair. "Declan is going to love seeing you."

Uncle Declan was going to be mortified, more likely.

The family started arriving around 11:30. Ash heard them from the living room where Shannon had set him up with blocks—his default activity when she needed him occupied and visible.

"Hey, happy birthday!" Claire's voice from the foyer, followed by male voices—her husband Marcus. Then Cathy arriving, her cheerful greeting. Finally Declan himself, thanking everyone for coming.

The normal sounds of a family gathering. Except nothing about this was normal.

Shannon appeared in the living room doorway. "Noam, sweetie, come say hello to everyone."

Ash's hands stilled on the blocks. This was it. Performance time.

He stood slowly, his toddler legs carrying him toward the foyer where his siblings waited.

They all turned to look at him as he appeared.

Claire recovered first, her nurse training kicking in. "Hi, Noam!" Her voice was bright, carefully modulated. "Don't you look nice!"

Cathy's smile was strained but present. "Hey there, buddy."

Declan just stared, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh. Hey."

Marcus, Claire's husband, looked between everyone with obvious confusion about the appropriate response.

"Can you say hi to everyone?" Shannon prompted gently, her hand on Ash's shoulder.

Ash looked at his siblings—his older siblings, except they weren't older anymore. Claire was 25, Cathy was 23, Declan was turning 22 today. And Ash was two.

"Hi," he said flatly.

"Such good manners!" Shannon praised. "Why don't you go back to playing while we get lunch ready? Everyone will be in to see you in a bit."

Ash retreated to the living room, hyperaware of the quiet conversation that started the moment he left.

"He looks..." Cathy's voice, uncertain.

"Healthy," Claire finished. "He looks healthy. That's what matters."

"It's so fucking weird," Declan muttered.

"Language," Shannon chided. "And yes, it's an adjustment for everyone. But he's doing well. Really well."

Ash sat back down with the blocks, his face burning. They were talking about him like he couldn't hear. Like he was actually a toddler who wouldn't understand or wouldn't care.

He knocked the tower over with more force than necessary.

The party moved to the dining room for lunch. Shannon set Ash in his high chair at the end of the table—visible but separated. Everyone else sat in normal chairs, eating normal food from normal plates.

Ash got cut-up chicken nuggets and fruit pieces on a sectioned plastic plate. A sippy cup of juice. Shannon tied a bib around his neck before anyone sat down.

"So, Declan, twenty-two!" Patrick said, determinedly cheerful. "How does it feel?"

"Good. Fine. Normal." Declan was very deliberately not looking at Ash's end of the table.

"Any plans for the year? Still thinking about grad school?"

The conversation flowed around Ash. Normal sibling catching-up. Claire talking about her pregnancy—she was showing now, due in spring. Cathy discussing her job in marketing. Declan mentioning maybe taking some time off before applying to programs.

All very normal. Except for Ash sitting in a high chair, eating finger foods, wearing a bib.

Shannon cut his chicken into even smaller pieces when he struggled with them. "There you go, baby. Easier that way."

Ash caught Cathy watching, her expression complicated. When their eyes met, she looked away quickly.

After lunch came cake. Shannon brought out a chocolate cake with "Happy Birthday Declan" written in blue frosting. Twenty-two candles.

Everyone sang. Ash mouthed the words but didn't make sound. Declan blew out the candles, made a wish, and they all clapped.

"Noam, do you want to help Declan open his presents?" Shannon asked.

No. Absolutely not.

"Okay," Ash heard himself say.

They moved to the living room. Declan sat on the couch while presents were distributed. Ash was lifted onto the couch beside him—too small to climb up himself.

"Here, buddy, can you help me with this one?" Declan held out a wrapped box, his voice awkward but trying.

Ash took it. The paper was easy to tear—he'd gotten unfortunately good at fine motor tasks with his small hands. He ripped it open to reveal a book about coding.

"Cool," Declan said, taking it from him. "Thanks, Marcus and Claire."

They went through the other presents. Ash was encouraged to help with each one, his small hands tearing paper while his adult mind screamed at the indignity of it all.

"Good job helping!" Shannon praised when the last present was opened. "Such a good helper."

"Can I talk to him?" Cathy asked suddenly. "Alone?"

Shannon and Patrick exchanged glances.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Shannon said carefully. "We're still establishing—"

"Five minutes," Cathy interrupted. "Please. I just... I need five minutes."

Another glance between the parents. Finally, Patrick nodded. "Five minutes. In here. Door stays open."

Everyone else migrated to the kitchen, leaving Ash and Cathy alone in the living room. Ash could feel Shannon hovering just out of sight in the hallway.

Cathy sat on the floor in front of the couch, putting herself at Ash's eye level. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you? Really?"

Ash glanced toward the doorway. Lowered his voice. "How do you think I am?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"I'm trapped in a toddler body. I spend my days playing with blocks and eating cut-up food and wearing diapers. How would you be?"

Cathy flinched. "I know this is awful. I know you hate it. But Ash—"

"Noam," Ash corrected bitterly. "Apparently I'm Noam now."

"You're still you. You're still in there."

"Am I? Because everyone else seems pretty comfortable pretending I'm actually two years old."

"We're trying to—" Cathy stopped herself. "I don't know what we're supposed to do. You were facing twenty years. Twenty years. You'd have been forty-four when you got out. If you survived."

"At least I'd have been me."

"Would you?" Cathy's voice was quiet but firm. "Would you really? Or would you have been someone completely broken? Someone who'd spent half their life in a cage, probably using whatever drugs you could get your hands on in there, coming out damaged in ways we can't even imagine?"

Ash looked away.

"I hate this," Cathy continued. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate that Mom and Dad had to make that choice. But I understand why they did it. Because twenty years in prison wasn't a choice. It was a death sentence."

"This feels like a death sentence."

"You're alive. You're clean. You're with family who loves you." Cathy reached out, touched his small hand. "That counts for something."

"Does it?" Ash pulled his hand back. "Because from where I'm sitting, it feels like everyone just wants me to be grateful that they destroyed my life to save it."

"Time's up," Shannon said from the doorway. Her voice was gentle but firm. "Cathy, thank you for the visit."

Cathy stood, her eyes shining. "Yeah. Of course." She looked down at Ash one more time. "I love you. We all do."

Ash didn't respond.

The party continued for another hour. Ash was placed in his playpen while the adults drank coffee and chatted. He sat among the toddler toys and watched his siblings interact like normal adults.

Eden wasn't there—still at college, still being kept at a distance. The one person who might actually try to help him.

Around 3:00, people started leaving. Claire hugged Shannon and Patrick, waved at Ash from the doorway. "Bye, Noam! Thanks for helping with the presents!"

Cathy lingered longer, saying goodbye to Ash with another complicated look. "Be good, okay?"

Declan was last, clearly eager to escape. "Thanks for the party. See you guys later."

"Say bye to Declan!" Shannon prompted.

Ash stared at his younger brother and felt something break inside him.

"Fuck you," he said clearly.

The room went silent.

Declan froze in the doorway.

Shannon's hand landed on Ash's shoulder. "Noam Francis Walsh."

"Fuck all of you," Ash continued, the rage finally spilling over. "Coming here and pretending this is normal. Pretending I'm just their little brother now, like nothing changed. Pretending you're not all just relieved that I'm someone else's problem—"

"That's enough," Patrick said, standing.

"No, it's not enough! It's not even close to enough!" Ash was shaking now. "You all just want me to smile and play along and be grateful that you chose this for me. That you destroyed who I was so I could be easier to manage—"

"Declan, Cathy, I think you should go," Shannon said quietly.

His siblings left quickly, Cathy glancing back with tears in her eyes, Declan looking stricken.

The door closed.

Ash stood in the middle of the living room, breathing hard, his small body trembling with rage and grief and the horrible helplessness of it all.

Shannon moved toward him but Patrick held up a hand, stopping her. He approached Ash instead, crouched down to eye level.

"I understand you're upset," Patrick said calmly. "That was a difficult afternoon. But you do not speak to family members that way. You especially do not use that language."

"They're not my family," Ash spat. "They're strangers who look like people I used to know."

"They're your family. They love you. And they came here today to celebrate your uncle's birthday and see how you're doing."

"They came to see if I'm a good little robot yet."

Patrick's jaw tightened. "Corner. Now."

"No."

"That wasn't a request."

They stared at each other. Ash was shaking, his hands clenched into fists, every muscle in his small body wound tight with fury.

Patrick simply picked him up and carried him to the corner. Set him down facing the wall.

"Ten minutes. You're going to calm down, and then we're going to talk about your behavior."

Ash spun around. "I don't want to calm down! I want to—"

Patrick turned him back to the corner, one hand on his small shoulder keeping him in place. "Face the wall. Ten minutes. I'll tell you when time is up."

Ash stood there, shaking with rage and humiliation. He could hear his parents talking in low voices behind him.

"He's not ready for family visits," Shannon said. "It was too much too soon."

"He needs to learn that family gatherings are part of life," Patrick countered. "He can't just avoid everyone because he's uncomfortable."

"He's not just uncomfortable, Patrick. He's devastated."

"And he still needs to follow the rules. He still needs to be respectful."

Ash closed his eyes. Counted the seconds. Tried to breathe through the crushing weight of it all.

When the timer went off, Patrick approached. "Come here."

Ash turned slowly. Patrick sat on the couch and gestured for Ash to come stand in front of him.

"You had a hard afternoon," Patrick said. "I understand that. Family gatherings are going to be difficult for a while. But that doesn't excuse the language you used or the disrespect you showed."

"I'm sorry," Ash said automatically. The words felt empty.

"I know you are. But you still need a consequence." Patrick paused. "You're getting twelve spanks. Six for the language with Declan, six for the tantrum afterward. Do you understand?"

Ash's stomach dropped. Not again. Not after the party, after performing all afternoon, after—

"Do you understand?" Patrick repeated.

"Yes."

Patrick guided him across his lap, positioning him carefully. Ash squeezed his eyes shut.

The spanks came steady and firm, Patrick counting each one. By the eighth, Ash was crying. By the twelfth, he was sobbing.

Patrick helped him up immediately, pulling him into a hug. Ash was too exhausted to pull away. Just collapsed against his father's chest and cried—for the party, for his siblings, for the life he'd lost, for all of it.

"It's okay," Patrick murmured. "You're okay. The consequence is done."

But it wasn't done. Nothing was done. Tomorrow would come, and the day after, and five thousand more days after that.

Shannon appeared with a tissue, wiping Ash's face. "Let's get you changed and down for a nap. You're exhausted."

Ash didn't protest. Let Shannon carry him upstairs, change his diaper—wet from the stress—put him in soft pajamas. Let her tuck him into the crib with the stuffed dog.

"Rest, baby," she said softly. "When you wake up, we'll have a quiet evening. Just us."

The door closed most of the way. Ash lay in the crib, his bottom still stinging, his face swollen from crying.

The party was over. His siblings had seen him as Noam. Had tried to move on, to accept it, to make the best of an impossible situation.

And Ash had screamed at them for it.

Because they were adjusting. They were adapting. They were accepting this as reality.

And he couldn't.

Wouldn't.

"My name is Ash," he whispered into the dark. "I'm twenty-four years old. I'm not their baby brother. I'm not two years old. I'm Ash."

But his voice was small and his words were desperate and outside this room, everyone else had already moved on.

He was alone in his resistance.

And he was starting to realize that might be how it would stay.

For sixteen years.

Five thousand eight hundred and eight days to go.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep away the grief.