I head into the kitchen, pulling out the brand newpizzellemaker I ordered. Charlie’s even strokes and breath provide a steady background noise while I get to work making the treat.
When Charlie hops in the shower I start to press the wafers, making a few test ones to ensure that I’m making them right. I wasn’t expecting a fresh wave of tears and longing to hit me when I broke off a piece of the first batch. The taste, the smell of the dough baking, makes me miss my parents in ways that are intangible. I miss their guidance and love. I wish they could meet Charlie and tell me if I’m doing something stupid. I want to know they would approve of him. I think he would pass muster and they would love him like a son. I blast Christmas music from the speakers in hopes of drowning out the insistent sorrow.
Charlie emerges, in the matching pajamas, and I double over in laughter. “I look ridiculous,” he declares as he smiles indulgently. He lets me dress him like this and follows along without question, which makes my heart swell.
“You look adorable. Sit and eat your breakfast.” I set out a plate with Italian treats while I fry up eggs for us both. I flit around the kitchen, trying to keep an eye on the eggs while starting the next batch ofpizzelle.Charlie is silent as I work and try to keep from burning anything.Pizzellecook so fast, it’s hard to manage more than just the wafers.
“So in sixth grade, we started to take language for the first time ever. I took Italian because my mom's family is Italian. Then at Christmas time, we learned aboutpizzelleand I got totally obsessed with them. For Christmas, my parents got me a maker so we could make them at home. It sort of just became a tradition after that. The first few years, it was a disaster but then we figured out the best way. We always had matching pajamas and stockings stuffed with our favorite candies and little bullshit knick-knacks that my mom would pick up throughout the year.”
I stare off, thinking about the last Christmas with my parents. My mom would use hot chocolate with whipped cream to rouse me from my bed and tease me that she let me sleep long enough. Now, I sip my coffee, though I don’t need the added caffeine because I’m already bursting at the seams with energy. Charlie watches me the whole time in quiet contemplation.
“Did you have any traditions?” I ask, finally sitting down beside him. Platters piled withpizzelleas well as bacon and eggs are set between us so we can make our own plates.
“Coffee,” he says, taking a sip from his cup.
I giggle. “Coffee is your tradition?”
He smiles and lifts his cup for a refill, “No. I just need more. We didn’t really have traditions since Dad was always working. Mom tried to make things special when I was small but part of our family was missing, so it was kind of empty. But, as I grew older and Dad continued to work, my mom would take us skiing. Sometimes it was just to get away from my father.”
“Well, we can make new traditions.” I kiss his temple before I eagerly run into the guest room to grab the presents stowed there.
“So, don’t think anything too crazy from the number of things here, but, Merry Christmas.”
He is frozen, staring at the presents in front of him, obviously not sure where to start. He starts smaller, carefully tearing at the wrapping paper so as to not destroy it. Within the packaging is a leather wallet engraved with his initials, something simple and useful. The next few gifts are all various photos from our trip together.
He holds the picture frame with a photo of the two of us on the beach after snorkeling. Charlie smiles as he rubs his thumb over our faces.
“I love them. Thank you.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. He gets up and goes to the bedroom, bringing out two items.
“I cannot take credit for the wrapping job. Ashley was kind enough to put me out of my misery and wrapped them for me.”
I open the slightly larger one and find a beautiful silver picture frame inside. I flip it around and there is a picture of two kittens in the frame. I look up at Charlie, confused by the cute but odd stock photo. I’m glad I ordered extra prints from the trip to put inside it.
“It’s a beautiful frame. Thank you.”
He laughs, taking my hand and threading his fingers with mine.
“Pets are not presents, but if you want, these two kittens are reserved for us to adopt.”
I look up at him in surprise. “Really?” I look at their little faces and am more in love with them already than I am with Charlie.
“Really. Back when we were talking about you going to your apartment, you mentioned how lonely it would be once you were there alone and said you wished you had a cat to go home to. I’m not saying you should move back home, obviously, but if you want them, they’re ours.”
I love the sound of that, our cats.
“We may never want human children,” he continues, “but we can always have cats.”
“Yes, yes! I love their faces.” I trace a finger over the curious little faces. Then I hug Charlie, gripping the frame in my hands, imagining having them home with us.
“They still need to be spayed. Once that happens, they’re ready to come home with us.”
I grab his face and kiss him. Charlie looks so pleased with himself that he’s practically preening.
He places the next box in my hands and moves back, eagerly watching my response. I open it and see that signature blue box with a white bow wrapped around it. I’m surprised to see it, Tiffany’s is such a grand gift, but I can’t stop my smile. It’s a long box, so I know it’s not a ring, and that is fine by me. It’s a simple pendant on a platinum chain with four marquis diamonds in a floral design. I let out a breath.
“It’s beautiful, Charlie. It’s, I mean, it’s gorgeous. Thank you.” I lean forward to kiss him, setting the box on the counter. I’m not sure I’ve ever owned anything so grand. I hop off the stool and get between his legs. He brushes powdered sugar off my face. If I was going to say it, now would be the time to tell him I love him, that being with him might be the best thing that ever happened to me. But I already tried to tell him I was falling in Bora Bora and he dismissed me. I’m not sure after what happened last night, my heart could take it again.
“Your last gift is one that we will also have to pick out together in the spring. I figured it’s time I replaced your bike.”