Today’s my thirtieth birthday. Just like any other day. I’ll play video games all day. I like first-person shooters, like Call of Duty, Battlefield: Bad Company 2, Counter-Strike. At night, Dad will come home, and Mom will cook us dinner. Dad is retired now, but he’s rarely around because he likes to be outside with his other retired friends. Mom is here for me. I love her cooking. Because it’s my birthday, my brother Steve will probably eat dinner with us, and he’ll bring over his girlfriend Lily, who I hate. She’s way too skinny, and she judges me. Steve is two hundred and fifty pounds and has diabetes. He works at this company that does studies – the ones cited on the radio when there’s not much news. Like a recent study shows that married working couples clean house less. Or a recent study shows people don’t trust their neighbors. I can tell by the way my neighbors look at me that they think I’m dangerous. They used to. I haven’t been outside in a long time.

Mom makes chicken adobo for lunch. I sit at the dining table and eat with her.

“What do you want to do today?” she asks.

I shrug.

“Maybe you should play some basketball in the backyard?”

“Maybe.” I won’t.

“I’m going to go out with Aunt Theresa later—”

“No, thank you.”

Mom lets out a quick breath through her nose and stands. She lifts our plates and waddles slowly to the sink. I can tell from how long she’s taking that she is not happy with me.

I don’t know why they want me to go outside so much. Mom and Dad and Steve think a lot of time has passed, and people don’t blame me anymore. But nobody ever blamed them. After that morning on campus with Eugene, and after people found out that I was his only friend, I couldn’t go outside without people staring at me. The parents were the worst. They called me names – even murderer – just because I was Eugene’s only friend.

Dad doesn’t try as hard as Mom anymore. A few years ago, he even suggested I go to therapy. My Dad! A retired Navy guy, who doesn’t like to talk! They’ve all had their run at me. Steve tries to set me up with friends and girls and jobs. They don’t know what it’s like.

I keep fit in our workout room. I do lots of pull-ups and calisthenics and butt exercises because I sit so much when I play video games. After my hour of Call of Duty, I’m on the treadmill, watching “Tyra.” Mom walks in and hands me the cordless.

“Happy birthday, buddy.” It’s Steve. I hate it when he calls me buddy.

“Mom and I were going to take you out to dinner tonight.” He says this like it’s normal. I flip through muted channels with the remote, until I find TV Land. “All in the Family” is on. Sweet.

“Let’s give Mom a break from cooking tonight,” Steve says. “Lily is coming too. And she’s bringing a friend.”

A friend?! Is he trying to set me up again? Why are they all against me? It’s my birthday!

“I want to stay home. I’m not like you, Steve. I’m not like you.” My voice is rising.

“Okay, pal, okay,” Steve says. “Calm down. Shhh.”

I towel off my sweat. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a few deep breaths. My teeth are clenched, and my ears are pounding.

“Hey, did you know that studies show that toddlers bond with robots?” Steve says.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just work. Six o’clock okay with you?”
“No! I said no!”

“Don’t argue,” he says. “Studies show that people who argue tend to get mad more often.”

“Asshole.”

He hangs up.

“Mom!” I yell. I run downstairs only to find that the car in the garage is gone. Mom has gone out with Aunt Theresa.

My thirtieth birthday is ruined. Steve is going to force me to spend time with Lily and her friend. If he tries to set me up with this friend, it would be the worst! No. Even worst than worst, we’re all going to have to eat at a shithole like Macaroni Grill.

Lily thinks I’m a murderer too. I’m sure she’s told her friend. I was Eugene Kwak’s only friend! Tonight’ll be just like the police questioning eight years ago. Yes, Eugene and I played video games a lot. Yes, we liked first-person shooter games. Yes, I knew he liked guns. Yes, I even filmed several of those famous videos where he’s holding his guns and saying that he’s going to take out everyone who ever made fun of him. Yes, I even walked to campus with him that morning when I noticed his backpack was stuffed bigger than normal. No, I never thought he would ever do what he did. No, I’m not a murderer, but you can call me one anyway.

Why are they torturing me? It’s like the fucking Russian terrorists in Call of Duty. I cannot go to this dinner. I will not!

I call Steve, but I get his goddamn voicemail. Hi, you’ve reached Steve of Studies Show International. I return to the gym and continue my work out. Should I run away? But that means I have to go outside. Should I hide, go stealth like Snake in Metal Gear Solid? I realize I’ve been doing pull-ups for twenty minutes, and my arms are fried.

I shower, go to my room, lock the door, shut the blinds and decide to sleep the rest of the day. But I can’t sleep. I see myself walking to class with Eugene. I’m talking about a cool first-person shooter. He’s nodding and smiling but he’s not really listening. I ask him what’s wrong. We’re walking across the quad. People are going to class. The campus shuttle drops off a gaggle of students. We pass the big oak tree in the center of the quad, and Eugene pushes me behind the tree and tells me to stay down, stay here. He tells me like he’s protecting me, like someone was attacking us. He sprints across the quad and soon, the screams, the gunshots.

My room is dark. I turn on the lights and start up my XBox. The whir of the console relaxes me. How many days have I spent just like this one? What would I be like if I’d never met Eugene. I know how thirty year-olds are supposed to be. We’re supposed to be like Steve. But Eugene was my best friend. Even if the shooting never happened, I think I’d be like this. I know I’m not normal.

A knock on the door.

“I’m not going!”

“Everyone’s here, Marcus,” Steve says. “Mom, Lily, her friend Jessica.”

He addresses Jessica like he’s embarrassed of me. Like he’s negotiating with a dangerous man.

“Come on, bro,” Steve says. “Don’t you want to prove you can do this? Studies show that people who have dinner out are healthier people.”

“Will you shut the fuck up about your stupid studies?”

“Nobody even cares about that shooting anymore,” Lily says with her nasal bleat.

What has Steve done with his life that’s been so great? I understand Mom and Dad wanting more from me. But diabetic Steve and anorexic Lily? I start playing Battlefield: Bad Company 2, hoping to wait them out.

“Marcus? It’s Mom. We don’t want to keep Dad waiting at the restaurant.”

I hit pause and put my head down. They’ve planned it this way all along. Tonight is going to hurt.

In the front seat of Steve’s minivan, the streetlights make me dizzy. My fists are balled, and my arms are pinned to my sides.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Steve replies Olive Garden.

“Yuck.”

“What kind of food do you like?” Jessica asks. She sounds very serious. There’s no smile in her voice. She’s tall like me and solidly built. She’s dressed like she’s just come from work.

“My mom’s food.”

“Filipino food?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell Jessica how long it’s been since you’ve been out of the house,” Lily says.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jessica says.

There’s a lot of pressure in my eardrums. I wonder if they’re going to pop and if I’ll go deaf. I wouldn’t mind going deaf right now.

“What are your hobbies, Marcus?” Jessica says.

I tell her I like video games. She asks what kind. I reply first-person shooters. She’s quiet.

“I know how it sounds,” I say. “With what happened at the college. All those kids that died. I was Eugene Kwak’s best friend.”

In the back of the minivan, Mom sighs.

“It’s okay, pal,” Steve says.

“It’s okay with me,” I say. “Everyone thinks I’m sick or crazy or dangerous. I haven’t left the house in five years. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“You make it sound like the shooting happened yesterday,” Jessica says. “Today is your birthday. Let’s celebrate today.”

The first couple of steps out of the car are mushy, like it’s been raining, even though it never rains where we live. The next steps are steadier, and I begin to think I’m getting better. Steve pairs up with Lily, and Mom is talking to Jessica. This Jessica has a very soothing voice. I wonder how she can be friends with Lily. Mom takes the crook of my elbow, and we’re walking together in the night, outside, like this happens all the time. I feel a little burst of happiness.

Inside the restaurant, Dad is seated at the head of the table. He is wearing his flat-brimmed US Navy hat as usual. He adjusts his glasses to look at me. He’s surprised I’ve made it, like he was surprised I made it after he heard the news of the shooting on the radio. He always expects the worst, so he can avoid disappointment. He mostly avoids me these days. Mom leaves me to kiss him on the cheek, and she whispers something to him. She’s probably telling him I’m holding up pretty well for someone who hasn’t been outside in years. I sit next to Dad. Jessica sits my left. Steve sits across from me, and Mom is across from Dad.

“Happy birthday, Marcus,” Dad says. “I thought you wouldn’t like this.”

Then why are we here?

“We want you to be happy,” Dad says. “Isn’t that right, Jessica?”

A smiling Jessica nods. Why is Dad asking her? Are they really setting me up with her? She’s way too old for me! How embarrassing!

The waitress comes by with the menus, and I don’t see anything I like. I catch Mom’s glance. “Mom, what do you recommend?”

She smiles. She knows I love her best. I know she loves me best. She’s the only one who lets me live my life, even if I’m not doing much living these days. “I think you’ll like the grilled chicken penne,” she says.

I choose the grilled chicken penne.

Jessica also orders the grilled chicken penne, and I begin to wonder even more why she’s here. She’s not Lily’s friend. She hasn’t so much as looked or said a word to Lily.

Steve orders a salad, a soup, a starter and an entrée. No wonder he’s got diabetes. I’m not the only sick one. Around the table, everyone is looking a bit nauseous. No one’s smiling. I feel like saying, “I told you so!” Today is my birthday, and if we were all going to be miserable, we might as well have been miserable at home.

“Son,” Dad says. “Jessica wants to tell you something.”

She smiles. “Your parents have invited me to help you. I’m an evaluator from Dailybrook Center.”

I’ve never heard of Dailybrook Center but I know what it sounds like. I look to Mom.

“Don’t be afraid, Marcus,” Mom says. “We’ve just asked Jessica to help figure you out.”

“We need to know what’s wrong with you, son,” Dad says.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Marcus,” Jessica says.

“No, there isn’t.” Blood makes my face hot, and I see myself running across the quad. My head hurts. “Drive me home.”

“It’s been nine years,” Dad says. “Mom and I are getting older. We can’t take care of you forever.”

Mom’s starting to cry now, and I’m starting to feel dizzy again. I’m in the quad, and there’s a crowd of four or five people looking at the ground. People are screaming and crying. On the ground, a girl, a brunette, but we can’t recognize her. She’s been shot in the face.

“Dailybrook is not the end game or the goal,” Jessica says. “The goal is for you to feel better about your life. Confident. Independent. Isn’t that what you want?”

I keep staring at Mom and her crying. I knew deep down that someday, I’d become too much of a burden. “You made me do this,” Eugene hissed in those last videos, pointing his guns at the camera. Is that what Mom and Dad are telling me now?

Our food comes, but I have no appetite. Everyone eats in silence. If I’m silent, others have no choice but to be silent too. People fear me. They think I’m like Eugene. The waitress comes by and asks everyone if they want pepper. Everyone except me.

“Did you know that studies show that loneliness kills?” Steve says. “Lonely people have higher blood pressure than non-lonely people.”

Lily laughs like this is funny, like my life is funny.

Today is the tenth anniversary of the shooting. Eugene shot 34 students. He was quiet, and he didn’t like it when others made fun of his speech impediment. We had a lot in common. I used to be thin and gangly and wear thick glasses. People made fun of me too. This is what I tell Jessica, during our walk around Dailybrook.

“You won’t have to stay forever,” she says.

“Maybe it’s better that I do.”

“Are you happier here?”

My throat grips. “Mom and Dad are happy I’m gone. They get to travel now.”

Jessica touches my shoulder. We are standing in the quad of Dailybrook, under a large tree, like the one at the college.

“Am I sick?”

Jessica looks at me and pauses. “What do you think, Marcus?”