The Gift (Unrestrained 4.50)

“What?” I turned to him. “Where?”

“In Chelsea. It’s a penthouse loft and it has several smaller offices inside. You could have other artists share it with you if you wanted.”

“Oh my God, Drake,” I said and covered my mouth. He took out his cell and called up his photos.

“Here, take a look.”

I took the cell from his hand and scrolled through the images. The space was big and bright, with hardwoods and exposed brick, and huge windows. There was a sink and island. It would be perfect.

I leaned over to him and put my arms around him, and he put down his present and hugged me back.

“I want you to be able to go there whenever you want and work on your art.”

I looked in his eyes, and shook my head, unable to speak for a moment. “Thank you,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled and I let go, handing the keychain and Drake’s cell to my father so he could see.

“Wonderful,” my dad said, winking at Drake.

Then I watched as Drake continued to search through the tissues. He finally found the tickets and itinerary and opened them.

“What’s this?” he said and opened the itinerary. It detailed the flight to Ethiopia and the trip to the crash site with a guide. Then, a flight to the national park in Kenya and our stay at the lodge.

“This,” he said and held up the tickets. “This is…” He didn’t say anything else but pulled me into his arms, his face pressed into my neck. I knew he was overcome with emotion as he said nothing more, just held me for a long moment.

Finally, he pulled back and I could see his eyes were wet. “This is the best present ever. Thank you.” He kissed me, then kissed me again.

“What is it, Drake?” my father said.

Drake handed my father the tickets and he examined them, peering at them through his reading glasses perched at the end of his nose.

“Very thoughtful, dear,” he said to me, nodding. “Wish I could come with you, pay my respects.”

I nodded, but was too overcome with my own emotion at seeing Drake with tears in his eyes that I couldn’t speak.

“Why is Uncle Drake crying?” Colin whispered to Christine.

“Because he’s happy,” she whispered back.

“I don’t cry when I’m happy,” Colin said, matter-of-fact. “I laugh.”

Drake looked up at that and laughed. “I’m happy,” he said to Colin and rubbed his head affectionately. “Just a sentimental fool.”

Colin shrugged and seemed satisfied, then turned back to his own toy – a radio operated drone, that Heath had flying around the room, knocking into things and causing a bit of a ruckus.

Drake pulled me into his arms and we sat together, our gifts in our hands, and enjoyed the company.

We left my father’s later than I planned for I was feeling like a new woman, my stomach settled and in a good mood from the evening. As we drove back to our apartment on 8th, I sighed in contentment.

I checked my watch – it was after eleven.

“We could go to St. Stanislaus and listen to some Christmas music if you’d like,” Drake said. We’d spoken about it back at my father’s apartment, reminiscing about Christmas when my mother was still alive.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but at that moment, I thought it might be one of the Christmas traditions I’d like to keep up, even if I was no longer a practicing Catholic.

I nodded. “That would be nice.”

And so, we brought in Christmas Day at the cathedral, sitting in the back pews, taking in the glorious flying buttresses, the dark woods of the altar, the gilded balusters, the stained glass and the beautiful voices of the choir as they sang songs from my mother’s homeland.