“Oh.” I pout, leaning into her shoulder. “That’s lovely.”
“I’m next!” Clara says, interrupting the still moment in her usual enthusiastic way. I can’t help but grin as she turns her back to me and dives under the tree. She opens a scarf from Maggie, handmade with all her favourite colours. Then, my gift to her, which is perhaps not much after the pearl necklace moment we all just shared.
I rub two hands up and down my thighs, watching her delicately remove tissue paper from the bag I brought from home. “If you don’t—”
“Hush,” she says, winking at me, continuing to remove tissue paper.
“Wow, you really wrapped this thing,” Daryl says.
“It’s breakable…” I bite my lip, looking at Clara who I believe, based on her slightly confused expression, has revealed the gift.
She removes the martini glass from the bag, a sweet but curious look in her eye.
“It’s from the night we went out together. After your first day,” I say shyly. “I, uh, after we made our agreement… to be each other’s dates?”
“You stole this for me?” she asks, mouth opening wider.
“I guess?” I laugh. “I don’t know what came over me but when we were about to leave, I looked back at the table—saw the glass you used tocheersour new… relationship… and I just couldn’t leave it behind.”
“Well that’s damn romantic.” Maggie clutches her pearlsliterally.
“It really is.” Clara stands, glass in hand, walks over and kisses me in front of her parents alittletoo long. “Thank you,” she says, pulling away and sitting at my feet.
“Your turn darlin’” Daryl passes two packages from under the tree, the last two standing. One from Maggie, and one from Clara.
I open Maggies first, a box with tissue paper inside.
“This is more of a sentimental gift… I hope you don’t mind.” Maggie puts a hand on my knee and pats twice.
Inside is a small wooden frame with a picture of Clara and me at about six years old. Our faces are covered in chocolate, laughing at the camera with arms wrapped around each other.
“Aw, I don’t think I’ve seen this one!”
“I remember this day…” I say softly. “The church summer fair—you and I were helping at the ice cream stand… It's how we met.”
“There’s something else underneath.” Maggie pokes the box.
I lift out the frame and hand it to Clara who smiles affectionately at the photo. Underneath is a blank DVD in a plastic clear case. I look up to Maggie for an explanation but notice that Daryl’s ejecting the Michael Bublé CD from the DVD player and gesturing for me to join him.
I raise up slowly, slightly suspicious and nervous, before giggling as I hand him the blank disk.
“Why do I feel like I’m about to watch averyembarrassing home movie?” Clara asks.
“Because you are,” Maggie says, turning her attention to the grainy video of Clara on the television.
Daryl hit’s play and takes his seat in the recliner, it squeaking under him as he lifts the leg rest.
Clara, same day as the photo but not covered in chocolate, is talking to her mother behind the camera.
“Teens, what are we doing today?”
“Fair!” A tiny, sweet voice returns.
“Having fun?”
“I am now.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
