Surprises

9.30am

Jason's coffee was cold. He considered transferring it into a glass over some ice to make it an iced coffee, but the arrival of the package had stirred him up so much that he no longer needed his morning perk up. The package in itself looked unremarkable; shoe box sized, wrapped in paper the same shade of brown as his now defunct coffee, the paper folded and taped at the edges like a gift, his name and address written in black marker on the top. He'd imagined every possible horrible thing that could be occupying the box, from severed fingers to some type of explosive device, whose detonation count-down would be triggered once it was unwrapped, but all he'd managed to conclude was that there was no indication of what might be inside it; he'd have to open it to find out. Any other person would have probably ripped right into the package without thought, excited to see what gift they'd received on their birthday, but even a birthday gift would be suspicious to Jason. He had no family left after his adoptive parents died, he had no old friends from school, and he'd made no new friends in this small town he'd moved to just over a year ago. There was the odd local that he chatted to while out and about, but none of them were friendly enough to have sent him a birthday present, even if they had somehow found out that today was his birthday. He had no partner, and his job as a freelance writer meant that he didn't have work colleagues.

No, it can’t be a birthday present.

His mind flicked back to running through potential horrors lurking inside.

Enough! Put your coffee down and open the damn thing. Standing here staring at it isn't going to accomplish anything.

After dumping his coffee in the sink and rinsing the cup more times than necessary, he had no further reason to delay. He briefly considered whether he should wear gloves to open it so as not to destroy evidence if it turned out to be something criminal, but then physically shook the paranoia out of his head. He tore off the paper before he could change his mind. It was a gift box, with an enveloped card on top. He opened the card first, the 'Happy Birthday' message on the front confirming it was indeed sent for his birthday. He unfolded the card:

'These belong to you. If you want more information, go to Ingrid's Cafe at 10am.'

The card may have clarified that this was from someone who knew today was his birthday, but the ominous message made him reluctant to open the accompanying ‘gift’.

Should I call the police? What would I say, I received a package on my birthday but I don't know what's in it? Stupid idea.

He slowly raised the lid from the gift box, and his eyes landed on a small knitted hat. A baby hat. Next to it was a plastic wrist band that had been cut, but he couldn't see any details without picking it up to look closer. That was it - a hat and a band. He put the lid down and picked up the wrist band.

Baby Jackson

12-03-1995

That was his date of birth, but that wasn't his name. It didn't make any sense. He re-read the card.

'These belong to you...'

Could these really be from when I was born?

He’d only found out he was adopted after the accident, so he’d had no-one to ask about it, but also no idea where to start looking for information. Now it seemed that maybe someone was bringing it to him. He didn't even have to think about whether or not to go to the café to find out.

9.50am

Jason stood outside the small café, alternating between checking the time on his phone and glancing through the window. He could see all the tables easily; only one was taken, occupied by two people chatting.

They don’t look like they're waiting for me, but then what would two people waiting for a third look like? Would they not talk while they waited?

9.54am

Surely it’s ok to be 5 minutes early? Maybe the person, or people, who sent the package are nearby, waiting for me to go in and sit down before they join me.

He pushed open the door, smiling at the barista.

"I'm meeting someone, I'll come order when they're here." He said, receiving a nod in response. He quickly picked the table nearest the window, so whoever was coming could see he was here, but his approach was halted by a sign on the table:

Reserved for Baby Jackson

There was an envelope next to it, with his name on, in the same handwriting from the package and the card he’d received. He forced his feet towards the table, picking the envelope up as he sat down. He didn't need to stare at this one for an hour as he had the package. In the envelope he found another card, this time with the words 'Keep going' on the front:

'I'll have a raspberry crush. Bring it to Haplin Square for 10.30am.'

What the hell? Is this some weird scavenger hunt?

He contemplated just going home, but he wanted the information, if there was any, and, sadly, he had nothing better to do today. He ordered two raspberry crushes to go, mumbling an explanation to the barista about meeting his friend elsewhere now, then speed-walked most of the fifteen-minute journey to Haplin Square. He took a seat on one of the benches in the middle of the square, placing the drinks down next to him to check the time.

10.27am

It was quiet at this time of day on a Thursday. He watched the few people there were walking through the square. No-one looked like they were coming towards him. None of the other benches were occupied.

10.30am

He scanned the square again, expecting to see someone either approaching or looking around like him. Nothing.

10.35am

Still nothing.

This is stupid. Someone playing a weird game, maybe.

He turned to pick the drinks up to leave, and again felt that familiar involuntary halting that had stopped him walking towards the table in the café. There was an envelope on the bench, propped up between the back of the seat and the cardboard drinks holder. He was as sure that the envelope hadn’t been there when he’d sat down as he was bemused about how he could have missed someone putting it there. He picked it up and quickly opened the envelope. The card was just a picture of a birthday cake with rainbow-coloured candles:

'Let's have a birthday picnic. You bring the cake, I'll bring what you want. 11.30am. Thindley Park.'

What the fuck?! The scavenger hunt continues.

Thindley park was a twenty-minute walk from the square, so he'd plenty of time to go buy a cake first.

Am I crazy for going along with this? What if I just spend all day following these cards? Where will it end?

It pained him to remember that he had no other plans on his birthday anyway. At least with this he had a slight hope of something useful at the end. He set off to a nearby bakery.

What if this is all a ruse to get me out of the house so someone can rob me?

He checked his phone again.

10.40am

He had to go home and check. He couldn't just carry on and ignore the uneasy feeling now. If he rushed, he could make it home and then to Thindley park by 11.30am.

11am

He'd made it home quicker than expected, and found the door shut, and locked, so no-one had broken in, yet. He quickly moved between the rooms. No sign of anything strange other than the package contents and the brown paper wrapping on the floor where he'd left them.

Shit.

He grabbed the drinks he'd set down, the cardboard holder now soggy with condensation, and hurried out the door again towards Thindley park.

11.15am

The bakery had plenty of ready made cakes to choose from. He quickly selected a medium sized Victoria sponge cake. He assumed he was only meeting one person, as he only had one drink order, so a small cake would have sufficed, but he didn't want to look like the lonely, friendless loser he was by buying a tiny cake.

11.40am

Even hurrying the journey had taken longer than he'd anticipated. He paused at the park entrance to catch his breath and survey the area. He had no idea where to go, but no option other than to walk around the park, looking for signs of someone waiting for him.

Perhaps someone with a picnic blanket?

12pm

He'd searched the park for twenty minutes now, and found nothing that looked like what he thought he should look for. The annoying thing was, he didn't know if he was even meant to be looking for something. He sat down and leant his back against a tree, placing the drinks and cake next to him. The drinks holder was useless now. It had almost entirely disintegrated. He had no choice but to wait here; he couldn't carry two drinks and the cake without the holder. He shut his eyes, in the hope that when he opened them the person behind all this would be stood in front of him. He mentally counted to a hundred five times over in his mind before opening his eyes. The drinks were still sat on the cardboard slush, the cake was still in its plastic box next to him, but that was it. No-one there, and no new envelope.

Shit!! I’ve lost the trail because I went home. Surely, if someone has information about my birth family, they wouldn't withhold it just because I was ten minutes late?

12.30pm

He decided half an hour was plenty of time to wait for someone before giving up. He'd finished his drink, so he could carry the other one and the cake home. He hadn’t been thrilled this morning about spending his birthday alone, but now it was worse. Now he'd spend the rest of it wondering about who had set this up, and what he'd be finding out if he'd just carried on to the park instead of going home.

1.20pm

He was still sulking as he arrived home after his slow stroll back, but his mood altered instantly when he opened his front door and saw the envelope on the floor. The writing on the front matched the writing he'd been seeing all morning on the other cards. He shut the door and sat, placing the cake and the half-drunk second raspberry crush next to him, then peeled open the envelope. It was an apology card:

'I wasn't trying to mess you around. I thought it would be a fun thing to do on your birthday. Guess you don't enjoy hunting as much as I do. I'll be at Lena's bar tonight at 6pm. Join me for a drink, and I'll tell you everything. Toby.'

He had a name now. He had a solid arrangement. He hadn't lost out because he'd been late.

5.30pm

It was only a ten-minute walk to Lena's bar, but Jason had been ready to go since 4.30pm, and he damn sure wasn’t going to miss this meeting. He approached the bar and paused briefly before pushing the door open. His brow furrowed as he entered the bar and saw the carbon copy of himself staring back at him. He glanced down at his shirt, then back at his clone sat at the table, wearing a different top. The man at the table smiled, and Jason’s hand moved to check his own lips. Then the mouth that matched his started speaking, his own voice coming from it.

"Happy birthday, brother."