WREN
I wakeup on Christmas Eve to my mother rushing into my room, her eyes wide, her white silk robe billowing behind her.
“You have a gift,” she announces.
Rubbing my eyes, I blink at her, still half asleep. “Where is it?”
“I couldn’t carry it into your room. You’ll have to come out and see it.” She is giddy, practically jumping up and down in one place. And giddy is never a word I use to describe my mother.
I leave the bed and pull on the hoodie that’s draped over the back of my desk chair, then slip my feet into the slippers I got for Christmas last year. I follow Mom and she leads me into the foyer where a large brown box is leaning against the wall right by the door.
“Is it one of your paintings?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Your name is on it. I had to sign for it.”
“Maybe it’s the piece I bought from Hannah Walsh.” Though I was told it wouldn’t be delivered until the beginning of the new year.
Mom goes to the nearby console table and pulls a drawer open, withdrawing a box cutter. “Let’s open it.”
“Wow. You’re prepared,” I say with a huff.
“I’m opening boxes like this all the time.” She pushes up the blade and goes to the box, careful as she cuts it open. I watch, anticipation curling through my veins, curiosity leaving me stumped.
I seriously have no idea what’s inside this box.
“Do you think it’s from Crew?” I ask, not wanting to get my hopes up.
Hasn’t he given me enough already?
“It came from a different delivery service, so maybe not,” Mom says as she slices the box open with the blade. “Oh, I think it’s a painting.”
She pulls at the cut cardboard, tossing it aside.
“It’s not large enough to be the one I bought,” I say, staring at the canvas wrapped in white.
“Tear it off and let’s see what it is!” My mother is practically vibrating with excitement. This is the kind of thing she lives for.
My mind is scrambling, but I’m drawing a complete blank. I have no idea what this could be or who it’s from.
Crew has sent me plenty, so I doubt it’s from him…
“If you don’t open it, I’m going to open it for you,” she finally says, reaching for the painting.
“Hey, that’s mine.” I push her out of the way with my hip, making her laugh.
Carefully, I pull the gauzy wrap from the painting, which isn’t really a painting at all. My heart’s starting to race as it’s slowly revealed and my hands begin to shake. I recognize it immediately, of course. The lip prints in multiple colors on white canvas, how they almost cover the entire space. The way all of those lips clustered together seem to undulate.
It’s the piece I’ve wanted for so long.
My heart is beating so fast, it threatens to pop straight out of my chest.
I rest shaking fingers to my lips, tears springing to my eyes the longer I stare at it. Is this moment even real right now? “Oh my God.”
“A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime,” Mom whispers, staring at it. “Oh, it’s lovely.”
“Who sent this? Where did it come from?” I can’t tear my eyes off of it. I can’t believe it’s actually here, sitting in my parents’ foyer.
And that it belongs to me.