It's my birthday and I'm waiting for my family to get home from work. I don't know if they'll be making my birthday dinner or if I'll have to get it on my own. It's 6:15. I go to my father's workshop and see a gift he wrapped in newspaper cartoons for my mother. I see glue bottles and things I'd been looking for. I then go down the hall to my parents' bedroom. I open the door and hesitate, embarrassed, because they are in there and I might have surprised them changing their clothes. I slowly push the door open. My parents are talking to one another. Dwight is on the edge of the bed chatting with two ill cousins. One has a cigar and both lay on the bed fully covered, face and all, by a body cloth. They look like dead bodies. I apologize for interrupting. I'm now in my wheelchair and Dwight gets in my lap. We start going backwards, uphill to our neighbor's house because they are having the party there. I hesitantly put my arms around Dwight. I say, "I hope you are driving, because I'm not." He laughs. I hug him and we both hug. It feels so loving and sweet and I feel like it's been forever since I've felt that. I also feel guilty like we shouldn't be touching, much less feeling loving. Dwight says, "I've always loved you too much." I say, "You've always been my favorite brother." We get to the neighbor's house and we go in. A man and a woman are seated and the man says something about wanting to go out. I say, "Me?"  I then see he's looking past me to the woman. She's unhappy because she doesn't want him. Both seem indifferent and ignore me completely. He's explaining how she can say no next time if she wants to.