Sometime later, I pulled out a small silver box from under the tree. Last night after we’d gotten it set up and decorated, I had put the handful of gifts that I had brought with me underneath the tree. Despite our animosity, I always bought Ryan something little. I knew that he would be here every year, and it felt rude not to. Normally, I got him something random. A book, a DVD, a gift card. A trifle gift that took exactly thirty seconds of thought on my part.
To be fair, Ryan did the same. I had an entire cabinet of Bath and Body works sets, and several giant scented candles that I’d never burned. I was ninety percent sure he’d never picked any of it out on his own. It was all part of this insincere routine we’d gotten into.
But this year, I was excited to give him his gift, even more so because of how things had changed between us. I’d randomly gone into a little antiques and memorabilia store looking for something for my mom when I saw the perfect gift for Ryan. In the first weeks of that awful summer, before Ryan had broken my heart, we had all gone to a Rockies game together. My dad took us, knowing that Ryan’s dad had been a huge fan, and that it was their ‘thing.’
It had been rough at first. It had been less than a year since Ryan had lost his parents, and it was his first game back. To cheer him up, we’d insisted that we all go down to the dugout and try to get some stuff signed by the players. We were a bit old for it at that point, but we had brought balls with us, just in case. By sheer dumb luck, Ryan’s father’s favorite player, veteran Jason Giambi, was there, and signed Ryan’s ball, which was amazing enough. Even better, that night he hit three home runs, making it so much more meaningful.
It had been such an epic experience for all of us.
Unfortunately, a week later Ryan’s car had gotten broken into while he was at work. The thief took a few CD’s, some pocket change, and of course, the signed baseball. I was very much obsessed with Ryan at that point, so I could tell that he was devastated, but he never spoke about it. And then two weeks later we had our bad fight, and I’d forgotten all about it.
Or at least I’d forgotten about it until three weeks ago, when I saw that signed ball in the shop, and knew that he would love it. As much as he annoyed me, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give him back that memory. Even though it probably wasn’t from that night, I knew that he would connect it to that game, and how much it meant to him to take that first step after his father’s death. Or at least I hoped that it wouldn’t bring up bad memories anyway. I could have made a huge mistake, but either way, I was about to find out.
Anxious, I handed him the small box.
“Is it…a bomb?” he joked as he started unwrapping it. “It kind of looks like the size of a Rubik’s cube, which you know I absolutely can’t solve.”
Then he opened the box, and his mouth literally dropped open when he saw what was inside.
“Where did you find this?” he breathed in awe. He pulled the gift out and rolled the baseball around in his hands, reverently.
“At a random antiques place in town. Do you like it?” I asked, desperately wanting his approval.
“Yeah, of course.” He swallowed hard, and lifted his gaze to mine, which was filled with gratitude. “I can’t believe you remember that. Any of it. The game, the player. Just, wow. Wasn’t that just a few weeks before…?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not important. I just knew how much you and your dad liked Giambi. It’s not a big deal,” I said, now feeling self-conscious.
“Yes, April, it is. This is the best gift I’ve received in years, maybe ever. Certainly, since I was a kid. Giambi retired after that year, and I never got the chance to go back. But I think about that game a lot. It was the first time I realized that your family was always going to be there for me. Not just in the way that most people say it, but truly. Your dad arranged that whole day just for me. You hate baseball and even you came along. It was the first time that I hadn’t felt completely alone in almost nine months. And getting his signature, and the home runs, it all felt like a sign. Ridiculous, maybe, since I don’t believe in that kind of thing, but true.”
I had to sniff back tears so he wouldn’t see them. I had no idea that it had meant so much to him. And it struck me that it would have been crazy awkward to give him that gift in front of everyone if we hadn’t formed our new truce. Maybe he didn’t believe in signs, but I was starting to.
“Well, I was proud of this until now,” Ryan said, handing me a box. “I feel woefully inadequate after opening your present.”
“Oh, come on, I’m sure it’s great.” I pulled off the plain red paper, and opened a shoebox. I looked inside and laughed.
“You are such a jerk,” I said, still giggling. His gift was perfect in its own way.
I pulled out the entire DVD collection of Heroes and shook my head at Ryan. Last Christmas, our one major interaction had been a knock-down drag out argument about which was better, Smallville or Heroes. I had no idea how or why it had started, and the rest of the family had scurried away, as they always did when we got going. Anyway, I had said Smallville of course, in large part because I’d never even made it past the first season of Heroes. Ryan had been offended, and insisted that I couldn’t compare until I’d seen the whole thing. It looked like he had followed through.
Ryan grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t resist. Besides, you really should watchallthe episodes before you judge the show.”
“Thanks, it’s great,” I answered, sincerely. It wasn’t quite the same, but I was touched that he had remembered our fight, too, and made the effort to find or order the set.
I set the box down, and leaned in to hug Ryan. It was brief, and stilted, and a little awkward. We could have sex in every way imaginable, in every position possible, but hugging and sentimentality was clearly still a work in progress.
“Ok. Presents are done. Now what?” I asked, to break the tension.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ryan
April had one last Christmas surprise up her sleeve. I was pretty much blown away after her gift, but then she ran into her room and brought out two bottles of wine, and a box of fancy chocolates. She poured us some glasses of the Cabernet, and held up her glass for a toast.
“So, this was supposed to be for my parents. I got the wine on my work trip to Napa, and the chocolate was brought all the way from Switzerland by a co-worker. But they missed out, and we need to celebrate this momentous occasion. We made it to Christmas,alone, without killing each other!”
I touched my glass to hers with a clink.
An hour later we were buzzed and sugar high.