Iwas about three months pregnant, not showing yet. It was Christmas eve and we were celebrating at Brian’s mom’s house. His sister, Daniella and big brothers, Marcus and Christian were there too. Daniella and Marcus were flying solo, and Christian, or Chris as we all call him, was with this bottle blonde with huge tits. She wasn’t in the picture too long — I forget her name now.
Everyone was drinking and getting wasted, save for myself of course. My red dress was bursting at the seams following a big Italian dinner with all the fixings. Or perhaps it was my growing belly. Brian had been acting a little strange all night, but then again, so was everyone. We’d just told them we were expecting the week before. Unlike my own family, Brian’s mother took it surprisingly well.
My gaze was fixed on the beautiful Christmas tree, a Balsam Fir, decorated with colorful, meaningful ornaments, some very old, some handmade by Brian and his siblings. There was so much love in that tree, and it’s still full of life today. Now there are ornaments made by Trevor and Tristan and their cousins. I thought of my mother’s fake white Christmas tree with the perfectly coordinated store-bought ornaments; blue, pink and silver. Yes, it was pretty, but it had no heart, no soul.
The Lombardi’s Christmas tree stood tall in the middle of a sea of gifts, and I wondered which ones were mine. I was particularly fascinated with the huge one at the back, and wondered who would have the pleasure of tearing it open.
The plan was to go to midnight mass. Until then, we were playing board games. Brian and I opted out of Scrabble and instead, sat on the sofa, hand in hand. He kissed my cheek sweetly, full of excitement. “I’ve got an early Christmas gift for you.”
Daniella and Gina flipped their heads around, all smiles. Something was up.
“Really?” I said, surprised and extremely curious.
He stood and headed slowly to the tree. He shuffled his way to the back and with much effort, struggled to pull out the huge gift, the biggest one of them all, the one I’d been eyeing.
He plopped it right in front of me, and everyone was staring at us, the Scrabble game temporarily put on hold.
“We’re not opening gifts until tomorrow morning,” I pointed out. “Why are you giving me this now?”
He smiles. “This one is something a little special.”
I wondered what it could possibly be. Something big, that was for sure. I was at a loss as I tore the wrapping off. Everyone was watching eagerly as I pulled the flaps of the brown box with all my might, only to find another wrapped present. I smiled up at him, amused. It was another box, and in that box was another wrapped gift. And so it went on, until I had opened a total of six boxes. Finally in the small tiny one, I expected jewelry but was surprised to see a small scroll, wrapped with a red ribbon.
Dear sweetest Mischa,
I’m not much of a poet and I could never quite adequately express my love for you, but this famous quote says it all.
“Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!”
I smiled at the words on the small scrap of paper in my hand. I ventured a look up at him. His huge grin was so full of happiness, it was contagious.
The quote was from one of my most loved books,Great Expectationsby Charles Dickens. It wasn’t a favorite of Brian’s but he knew I loved it.
For a minute, I wondered what this meant, and I clued in pretty quickly. This was a scavenger hunt. I had no clue what treasure I would find, but it didn’t surprise me at all. Brian’s always had a way of making things fun — it’s one of the many qualities I love about him. I often tend to be too serious, and he’s always brought out the child in me. I grinned widely. “Great Expectations,” I cheered. “I know where you keep it.”
I sprinted to the den and Brian, Gina and Daniella tagged along like eager puppies. Bookcases lined the wall, and an old pink velour antique loveseat dominated the space. Family photos were everywhere, and an antique desk housed a computer and printer. I trailed my finger along the rows of books on the bookshelves; lots of cooking books, James Patterson, Dean Koontz and old Harlequin paperbacks. “Interesting,” I said playfully and shot Gina an impish grin. She laughed.
I finally found the classic novels section. There was an old copy ofGreat Expectations, and I was indeed full of great expectations as I feverishly flipped through it.
I was beyond thrilled when I found what I was looking for — another note.
You are as sweet as pie.
What shall it be today?
Moist, tasty and made with love.
Pumpkin, Coconut Cream or Blueberry?
I smiled so hard, it hurt. Those were all my favorite pies. In fact we’d shared a slice of blueberry pie on our first date. I mulled over the note, and within seconds I knew where I was heading.
I sprinted to the kitchen, and pulled open the refrigerator door. I skimmed through the contents, but there were no pies. No pies on the counter either or in the huge bread box. I wracked my brain, and a thought quickly came to me. I knew exactly where Gina kept all her baking supplies.
Again, everyone nipped at my heels as I pulled open the drawer and rummaged through all her supplies, and there were tons. “I know… it’s a mess,” Gina said. I searched through a hodgepodge of stuff and thought I would never find what I was looking for; flours of every variety, sugar, baking powder, cake mixes, birthday supplies, sprinkles.
And finally, right under a box of table salt, I discovered another note. My pulse raced as I read it eagerly.
This thing called love, I just can't handle it
