“Your brother took the hints,” Joan told Tim, as Aidan tore at the wrappingpaper.
“Well, Aidan mentioned the dog every ten minutes every time Jerry visitedus.”
Aidan shrugged. “He messed up last year. I wanted to make sure he got it right thistime.”
The previous year, Uncle Jerry had bought him a plush dog, thinking it was the toy all the kids were talking about. Granted, the names were similar, but the plush dog didn’t bark songs or stand on itslegs.
Busy making the tiny plastic dog sniff his bone, Aidan didn’t notice his dad leave the room. In fact, his mom had to tap his shoulder to get his attention and point it to his dad. When Aidan turned his head, he found Tim standing by thedoor.
“This is our Christmas present for you,son.”
The tall square volume didn’t give away the kind of gift it contained. But, whatever it was, Aidan knew his dad would have nailed it. He abandoned the other presents and hugged his dad. “Thankyou.”
“You might want to open it first.” Timwinked.
“You always get itright.”
“I married your mom, didn’t I?” He kissed the top of Joan’s head, as she snuggled against his chest and they watched Aidan rip the red and green paper toshreds.
Aidan’s heart thudding against his ribcage cut off air form his lungs when a black faux leather case, framed by heavy-duty metal, peered at him amid the ruins of Christmas-themed wrapping papers. His stare cut to his dad’s, who nodded in response to Aidan’s silentquestioning.
That couldn’t be it.Right?
Snapping the latch open, Aidan confirmed his father was his hero. A bass guitar was nestled inside the case in a soft bed of black plushy fabric. He wanted to spring on his parents and hug them tight to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, but his hands grew a will of their own and wouldn’t stop caressing the shiny baby-blue and white surface and the long rosewood neck with its four tautstrings.
He eventually closed the traveling case and tried to hug both his parents, but his arms didn’t reach all the way around their waists. Tim and Joan sandwiched him between their bodies instead. “Thank you. This is the best present ever. You’re thebest.”
“Right back at you,son.”
* * *
Later in the day,when his extended family distracted his parents with their fun-filled yearly competition of charades, Aidan grabbed the bass guitar case and snuck upstairs to his bedroom. He hoisted the case onto his bed, opened it, and reverently plucked the guitar out of its snug bed. He didn’t know the first thing about playing that instrument, but he wanted topractice.
He slung the strap over his arm and shoulder, and the guitar surprisingly hung in front of him within reach of his fingers. The perfect height. His father was famous for the attention he paid to details. Turning to check his reflection in the full-length wall mirror, Aidan’s satisfied smile turned into a widegrin.
“I’ve got a bass guitar. I can’t believe it,” hemuttered.
He scowled at his grinningreflection.
That waswrong.
That teeth-showing expression worked for self-centered lead singers or camera-seeking moviestars.
Aidan wanted to belong to the coolcrowd.
He wiped the beaming smiled off his face, drew his eyebrows together, and glanced in themirror.
“Muchbetter.”
He thumped and strummed the strings, producing dissonant and cacophonous sounds, and shrugged. He didn’tcare.
In due time, he would learn to playbass.
For now, he focused on getting the attituderight.
