Zebb eyes me. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”
“We aren’t those same teens anymore.”
“No. But I want to learn. I want to know more about who you are now.” His eyes scan my face.
“Same,” I whisper. While I know the highlights of his story, who is he now, here?
“Snowman ice cream,” Tam cries as she returns with three small packages in her hand.
“Bowls,” Zebb says. Tam groans. “And spoons.”
Tam returns to the kitchen but quickly comes back to the dining room. When I open the cold wrapping, inside is ice cream in the shape of a snowman. The frozen treat also once came in the form of a green tree or a pink and white Santa Claus. I haven’t had these holiday specials since before my mom left. The memory hits me hard.
I slide the ice cream into my dish. Tam is watching me as I slip my spoon into the dessert and slice off a corner. The flavor is plain vanilla. Nothing fancy.
“Isn’t snowman ice cream the best?” Tam holds her breath waiting for my answer.
I glance at Zebb before looking back at Tam. “Snowman ice cream is my new favorite flavor.”
“Yes.” Tam fist pumps again while Zebb gives my leg a squeeze under the table.
Tam devours her ice cream. “Present time.”
“What?” I look up from my almost empty bowl.
“Dad said we have to wait until after dessert to give you a present.”
“Zebb.” Suddenly, I’m a little panicked. Dinner. Ice cream. It’s already too much, but a present. I’m nervous I’m going to open a box with the Santa lingerie in it until I remember the item is still by my desk, waiting to be purchased. With the store closed, Zebb couldn’t buy it for me. I told him I’d put it on hold for him, keeping it in my office for later. I’d planned on paying for it myself, keeping it as a reminder of what we’d done on my fortieth birthday.
“I hope you like it,” Tam squeals from her seat as Zebb has disappeared to retrieve said gift.
When he returns, the box is huge. There is no small piece of jewelry in there or slinky negligee.
The package is wrapped in paper with pink balloons. Definitely kid paper but dragging out my birthday has been so sweet and too much.
A piece of paper with Happy Birthday written on it has been decorated by Tam and taped to the top of the package.
Cautiously, I tug at the wrapping paper.
“Just rip it already,” Tam teases, elbows on the table as she leans toward me.
“Tam. Patience,” Zebb warns.
With a sharp tug, I rip a large strip of paper to reveal the contents of the box.
No. It can’t be.
Peeling back more and more wrapping, the image on the side of the box makes the contents clear.
“It’s a Barbie Golden Dream Camper RV.” My voice cracks as I read the label.
“Do you like it?” Tam’s excitement floats over the table.
I brush my hand over the words, staring at the picture of the iconic doll camper pasted to the cardboard.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper as the box blurs. “Tam, do you have a Barbie? Maybe we can open this up and see how she looks in it.”
“Yes.” She nearly trips getting off her chair and then rushes from the dining room.