The Party
New York – November 1995
My brother Cullinan and I lived with our dad in a two-bedroom apartment. It was large by Manhattan standards, but not by the standards of anyone else living outside of Tokyo. Dad was out doing his cop thing and Cullinan was in the kitchen doing his kitchen thing when I answered the door.
“Happy Birthday, Mike!” Dave shouted.
Lucy thrust a paper bag at me. “We brought cupcakes! I wanted to get vodka, but ‘Mr. Thinks He’s A Hacker’ over here wants me to wait until his new IDs are finished.”
“Trust me, they’re going to be amazing,” Dave bragged.
“Thanks, guys. Technically my birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but whatever.”
“We’re not leaving until tomorrow, so that works,” Lucy said.
“Yeah, we’ve got to get our birthday punches in,” Dave said.
“You should be aware that I hit back,” I said.
“Maybe not so much with the punches, then.”
We moved into the living room as Cullinan began slicing the hell out of some vegetables in the dining alcove.
“What’s up with tall, dark and focused?” Lucy asked.
“Cullinan?” I asked. “That’s my brother.”
“You never told me your brother was a brother, Mike,” Dave said.
“Yeah, I was adopted,” I said. “Never met my birth parents. Now you know more than you’ll ever need to know about me.”
“You never told me you had a brother,” Lucy said.
“Don’t worry, he’s like the least cool guy you’ll ever meet. But he’s the only guy I know who’s smarter than I am.”
“So modest,” Dave said. “You’re such a dick.”
“Hey, I am being modest. I didn’t say I was the smartest person in the world. Just one of them. Come on, I’ll introduce you all.
“Hey, Culli. Meet my friends. Dave and Lucy.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Cullinan gave a little bow of his head.
“And you, good sir,” Lucy curtsied.
Dave gave her a look. “Wait, Cullinan? Like the Diamond?”
“Correct. Our father does have a sense of humor. It just takes some effort to find it.”
The intercom buzzed. I told the doorman to send the other guests upstairs.
“So what is there to drink in this place?” Lucy asked.
“Well, we’ve got water and six kinds of juice,” I answered.
“What kind of a party is it without alcohol?” Dave asked.
“Hopefully a fun kind where we can play darts without putting anyone’s eye out. Besides, SIX KINDS OF JUICE.”
“We’ve got apple, orange, cranberry, mango, and two brands of litchi,” Cullinan said.
“Have you ever tried a litchini?” Lucy asked. “They’re amazing.”
“No, but you can mix litchi with cranberry, and it’s pretty excellent,” I answered. “I’m afraid you’ll all just have to cope with sobriety. That’s how we roll in Casa del Diamond.”
“I can’t believe this is the first time you invited me over to your apartment,” Dave asked. “How long have we known each other?”
“I never have anyone over,” I answered.
“Our dad’s a cop - a homicide detective - so he likes to keep our home a private place most of the time,” Cullinan said. “Especially since Mom…”
“He’s got a lot of paperwork tonight,” I added, “so I figured we could all hang here for a few hours. Don’t mess shit up.”
“Don’t worry,” Lucy assured me. “I’ve got Dave housebroken.”
“So you’re like a forger now?” I asked Dave.
“More of a hacker, but let’s talk about that when we’re not in the apartment of an NYPD detective,” he responded.
“Good call.”
“So…didn’t you ever want to know who your biological parents were?” Dave asked. “You know, like, where you came from?”
“Not really. I mean, I thought about it a lot right after I learned what it all meant. But I am who I am. I don’t really care where I came from. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re not curious?” Lucy asked.
“Of course I’m curious. But some things might be better left unknown.”
The bell rang as some other guests arrived. A rather tame party ensued. People who hadn’t seen me in months kept saying how much different I seemed. I chose to take it as a compliment. The apartment was full of idle chatter and party games, until everyone got bored and left in search of alcohol.