Nobody listened.
Anthony arrived carrying the cake.
His mother opened the door.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You trusted yourself with cake?”
“I've transported more dangerous things.”
“That statement does not comfort me.”
She inspected the box.
Perfect.
Lavender frosting.
Gold flowers.
One candle shaped like 71.
Ernestine smiled.
“Pretty.”
Anthony looked relieved.
They carried it outside together.
At the patio table, Ernestine stopped.
For a moment, her hand rested against the edge.
Anthony noticed.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
She looked around.
The same backyard.
Same grill.
Same folding chairs.
Some of the same balloons.
Children running across the grass.
Music playing.
People laughing.
No police cars.
No shouting.
No fear.
Ernestine touched the cake.
“Last year I thought they ruined this place for me.”
Anthony remained quiet.
“Every time I came outside, I saw myself on the ground.”
“What changed?”
She looked toward her family.
“They don't get to own the yard.”
Anthony smiled.
“No.”
“They don't.”
Guests arrived.
Denise shouted from the kitchen.
Maya brought out lemonade.
Somebody put on old Motown.
At six fifteen, everyone gathered around the cake.
Anthony stood beside Ernestine.
She looked at him.
“You going to sing?”
“No.”
“You're singing.”
“I’m assistant chief.”
“I gave birth to you.”
Anthony sighed.
“Happy birthday to you…”
Ernestine grinned.
Halfway through the song, somebody came through the side gate.
Anthony turned instinctively.
So did Ernestine.
Sergeant Melissa Grant stepped inside carrying a small gift bag.
She was off duty.
Jeans.
Sweater.
No uniform.
Ernestine smiled.
“You came.”
“Wouldn't miss it.”
Grant had been the supervisor who arrived after Grady and Bole.
She had also testified honestly during the investigation, including about failures in how previous complaints were handled.
Ernestine hugged her.
Anthony watched.
Grant looked toward the cake.
“Looks safer this year.”
Ernestine pointed at her.
“Don't start.”
Everybody laughed.
And this time—
the laughter stayed.
Later that evening, Anthony and Ernestine sat alone on the patio after most guests had gone.
The cake was half eaten.
Balloons moved gently in the warm air.
Anthony held a cup of coffee.
Ernestine had tea.
“You know what bothered me most?”
she asked.
“The shove?”
“No.”
“The cake?”
“No.”
Anthony looked at her.
“What?”