Back at Nate's birthday party, Brenda delivers a beer to Tom. She still apparently hasn't got one for Nate, and he flashes a look of annoyance at her. Get your own beer, birthday boy. You're forty, not paraplegic. Anyway, Nate's in this conversational grouping with Tom and Billy and Todd, the last of whom is explaining how his wife Dana got more and more distant until he found out she was having sex with some guy with testicular cancer. "She's fucking Lance Armstrong," Todd complains. Tom naturally takes him literally and gets all excited. Todd clichés that, now that he's divorced, he's getting mad tail. "Forty is just the beginning," he concludes, as Brenda arrives with Nate's beer. Billy -- standing there all twitchy in his "Ski Iraq" shirt (which is a loose, ratty, sleeveless rag) -- tells a story about a guy he'd seen in Griffith Park who'd fallen off his bike and ripped open his scrotum: "It was like two pink eggs kind of vibrating in this totally shredded mess." I'm never going to Griffith Park as long as I live. "Jesus, Billy, what the fuck?" Nate complains as he goes to answer the door. It's David and Keith, the latter of whom blames his partner for making them late by needing a haircut. "Well, it looks good, I guess," Nate says, even though David's hair looks exactly the same as always. "So how long have you two fuckers known about this?" Nate says, faux-angry without much faux. "What else aren't you telling me?" "Nothing," David answers nervously. The other guys move off to get cake, Tom still excited about Lance Armstrong. "Dude, I was speaking metaphorically," Todd says.
Brenda and Jackie are lighting all forty candles on Nate's cake while Claire rhapsodizes stonedly about cake-light. Brenda carries the roaring inferno out to the dining room as everyone sings "Happy Birthday," with harmonies and everything. Maggie, holding Maya, tells Nate to make a wish. After a long moment of silence, he takes a deep breath and blows out all the candles like they were on a switch, to much applause. Now everyone can enjoy raspberry cake with vanilla and Nate-spit frosting. Someone turns the lights back on, and Billy hollers for a speech. "No," Nate says simply and, frankly, kind of rudely. He says he doesn't know what to say that won't sound lame. Ruth says she'd like to say something, and Nate eagerly gives her the floor. Ruth begins a very sweet speech about how she was sad when Nate left home. "Here we go," whispers Claire under her breath, and Ruth yells, "This is not about you!" Everyone but Claire looks uncomfortable for a second while Ruth recovers: "These last five years with you have been a gift, Nate. That's all I wanted to say. Happy birthday." Nate thanks her with a kiss and a hug. And then he turns to a smiling Brenda and asks, "Can I tell 'em?" Dude, I think you just did. Brenda's smile freezes on her face. "You're pregnant?" Keith says, and Brenda reluctantly says she is. Maybe that empire-waisted top you're wearing wasn't the best sartorial option if you really wanted to keep this quiet, Bren. Congratulations all around, which are rudely interrupted by a crash from the kitchen.