Oliver stood in front of his house, staring blankly at the place's old wall siding. The day was winding down and coming to an end. From the far side of the street, a beat-up grey car was approaching fast. Oliver smirked. "Well, well, well; if it isn't Ryan."
The grey coupe parked crookedly in front of the lawn. Its driver was an odd fellow, a slick yet trashy looking young man. He wore orange-tinted aviator shades and was apparently a fan of leather jackets. Tripping as he awkwardly exited the car, it was clear that the driver was, well, smashed. Oliver ran over to the driver's side and helped him out. "Ryan, dang!" he scolded, laughing uncontrollably.
Ryan chuckled. Interestingly enough, a bottle of vodka was in his left hand. Oliver looked and saw that it was half empty; or half full, if you were into that kind of thing. "Ollie, my buddy!" Ryan greeted, raising his hands in the air.
Oliver helped Ryan stand upright, although he still leaned slightly on the side of his car. "I'm surprised you didn't die 40 miles ago", Oliver sighed.
They both headed inside after Ryan sobered up a bit. The interior of the house was old fashioned, with smooth wooden walls and antiques scattered all over the place. "Where are mom and dad?" Ryan asked, looking around the living room.
"At the market. They'll be back in a little while," Oliver answered, "Have you heard from Ethan yet?"
Ryan shook his head and took a seat on the couch. "I really miss him though. Remember when we used to fight over things, like toys?"
Oliver nodded. "Ethan always broke it up. He was the peacemaker and the resolver", Oliver smiled, reminiscing.
An hour later, Ethan arrived. He was sharply dressed in his neat little business suit and greeted everyone with the warmest hugs. As the three young men sat together in the living room and talked, the parents returned. This was the first time the triplets had been together in over a year. After everyone got reacquainted, the family of five headed out to the backyard.
A quaint table waited outside, with a massive chocolate cake. They sat around the table and began to celebrate. "So, I guess I'll start the gift giving", Oliver announced.
He returned to his car and came back with two boxes in his hands, one for Ryan and one for Ethan. Gift wrapping was quickly littered all over the grass. "Ollie, you're the best. Just the best, man", Ryan chortled, holding up an expensive looking bottle of wine."
"The best my money can buy", Oliver replied, giving Ryan the thumbs up.
Ethan opened his and was pleased as well, since the tablet computer would be a huge help for his business. Ryan gave Oliver a typewriter and Ethan a $200.00 gold plated ballpoint pen. Ethan proved to be the most selfless of the three brothers in the end, giving a new car to Ryan and tickets for a flight and tour of London to Oliver.
Soon after, they did some more reminiscing and blew out the birthday candles. Suddenly, something unexpected happened. "Boys, I have an announcement", their father declared, abruptly stopping the conversation.
A guilty look appeared on their mother's face, but only Oliver caught this. "We've... been hiding something from you for the past 19 years", father admitted.
His face grew pale and his voice began to shake. The three children grew worried. "Back in England 19 years ago, when you were newborns, you were cursed."
"Dad, cursed?" Oliver scoffed, "Really?"
Father ignored Oliver and kept talking. "I angered a witch... as revenge, she cursed you three. You're all linked to one lifespan. Essentially speaking, the three of you share a lifespan of 120 years. Seeing as how you all just turned 19, you have 63 shared years left, which amounts to 21 years left for each of you."
Almost simultaneously, the triplets stood up and began shouting different things, clearly outraged. "A witch, dad? What is this, a fairy tale?!" Oliver questioned bitterly.
"No fairy tale," their dad replied, a tear streaming down his cheek.
As quickly as the party had started, it died and decayed. Ethan spent the next three hours on the phone discussing his business in New York, rushing to get as much work done as possible. In contrast, Ryan became saddened and apathetically drove out to the local bar in his new ride. Oliver did neither of those and instead went to bed.
The maximum that any brother could live was 40 years. Regardless of what they were doing, this fact lingered in each of their thoughts for the rest of the night.