Entering Jesse’s home, I hung up my jacket and tidied up the place a bit, although Jesse was no slob. I prepped a breakfast of baked French toast and readied it for the oven for when we woke up. It was Mom’s old recipe, another Christmas favourite, but I hadn’t had it in years.
As I washed and dried the last of the dishes, I stared at the ceiling. Up there was the little red box. The last gift she’d given me.
After finding a bit of Christmas magic today, all thanks to Jesse,it was time to finally open it. I felt that deep in my soul.
I trudgedup the stairs and popped the suitcase onto the bed, digging through the depths of the contents to retrieve the hand-sized boxed. The edges of the red ribbon had frayed over the years, but the bow was still intact. My finger outlined the edge of the tag, which had faded, however, the beautiful script Mom was famous for, still spelled out my name.
Somehow, the only place fitting to open it was in front of the tree. I held the box closeto my heart as I descended the stairs and made my way back over to the shimmering tree, lighting it up with a touch of a button.
My heart was pounding loudly, and it was nearly impossible to hear myself think overthe rush. This was it. Once I opened it, I’d never have another gift from her again, and as I gently tugged on the bow, I stopped.
Maybe this wasn’t the right time to open it.
I set it on the table and stared at it in the glow of the Christmas tree.
Perhaps I should add Jesse’s gifts under there first?
Holding the little red box, I went back upstairs, got the couple of gifts I’d found, and wrapped them in paper decorated with little snowmen. First, a monthly subscription to a sock of the month club, as I’d noticed his socks were thread bare. I’d also enrolled him in a local treat box for six months, where he’d get a selection of snacks all made on the island. Added to that, were a couple of ornaments from Whimsical Whims and a gift card to Pete’s Pitas.
In my nicest handwriting, I penned out his name, although my penmanship needed work. It wasn’t nearly asscriptly beautiful as Mom’s had been. Still, once they were under the tree, it made it look less bare, and a smile spread across my face.
I sat on the springy couch and wiggled myself into place, staring at the box on the edge of the coffee table and the tree behind it. Why was I so nervous about undoing the knot and lifting the lid? Never had that problem any other year when it was there. In fact, it was the first gift I opened.
My hand shook as I reached for the box and held it in my hand, admiring it from all sides. Really, I was being ridiculous and the inner child in me undid the knot in a lightning-fast motion, while the hurting, grown adult slammed the brakes. I set the box back down, pushing it into the middle of the table. As much as I thought I was ready, I wasn’t. Not really.
Besides, it was Christmas Eve, not Christmas morning, and I only opened presents then. It was a hard and fast rule.
Relieved for having stopped myself from making a mistake, I hopped back into the kitchen and whipped up some muffins; a hearty variety that froze well and would fill Jesse with nutrition in my absence. It also helped to pass the time, and before I knew it, the clock struck twelve.
“It’s now Christmas Day,” I said to no one, putting the cooled muffins into a freezer-safe container and sliding them into a narrow vacant spot in his freezer.
The lights in the kitchen had just flicked off when a key rattled in the doorand grabbed my full attention, cementing my feet to the floor.
Jesse slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Even in the shadows, his face lit when he spotted me. “Oh, hey. You’re still up.”
“Hey.” Was it wrong to ask how work was? Or would that be weird?
“It smells good in here.” He lifted his nose to take in the scents.
“Muffins and breakfast for the morning.” When he walked over, I pointed out the tray in the fridge, and the snacks in the freezer.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t mind. Wanted to make sure you had good food to eat when I wasn’t around.” And like always, I was an A+ mood killer asthe smile fell right off his face.
“You didn’t need to stay up.”
“I was killing time. Remember the Christmas gift my mother left for me the morning she passed away? I started to open it.” I pointed to the coffee table where it sat untouched, the ribbon laying around the base.
“You opened it?” There was so much hope in his voice, I hated to disappoint him once again.
“No. But I got further with it than I ever had before, so it’s progress,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“You were just waiting for me, weren’t you?” It came out in a tired giggle as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close.
Maybe a part of me had been waiting, needing the extra support. However, I pushed him away and wrinkled my nose as there was a strong odor in his clothing.
“Give me five?”