The Gift

A Writer’s Cramp: 1,000 words/24 hours
NEW PROMPT:
You buy what you believe is the perfect gift for a loved one -- however, they don't quite see it the same way. Write the STORY or POEM.

The Gift

It was the gift of the year. How was I to know that she, alone among the millions dreaming of possessing one, had no interest in a robotic pet.

I’d chosen the skunk for her. It was the cutest. That sweet face, the black and white fur – soft and pretty as mink – how could she not like it?

I’d had it specially wrapped with metallic red paper, silver ribbons and bows, and a cute little Christmas bear ornament at the top. The size of the box was perfect. I wanted her to know right off that her gift wasn’t a piece of jewelry; It wasn’t yet time for the significant question. The relationship Beth Ann and I had was deliciously sweet, but I wasn’t ready for the BIG step. Not me, maybe not ever.

Beth Ann wasn’t into books or perfumes. The robotic skunk should have been perfect. I figured it would keep her company, give her something to mother, keep her from needing more than I was ready to give.

What could be a better idea? Robotic pets don’t smell. They don’t require toileting or expensive foods. They need no vets, no walks in the park. I could have gotten her the puppy or the kitten, but I’d bought her the skunk because it was special, unique, the rarest of all the new models. I’d certainly paid enough for it!

When I handed her the present, she was like a little girl, all enthusiastic about the box, the wrappings, and the teddy bear on top. She kissed me and danced about holding the box. How lucky I was, I thought smugly as I watched her twirling about with the cherub smile on her small, heart-shaped face.

Finally she sat down beside me and dotted my face with kisses. She hugged me, too, and thanked me in between kisses and hugs. I felt myself beaming, like a schoolboy, sharing in her high spirits.

Once she got started, she tore off the wrapping paper, ribbons flying, bows and teddy bear pushed to the side. Her copper-brown hair, all tussled from her dance, fell down about her. She flipped it back and smiled at me.

I was fascinated as she nibbled her lower lip in concentration. She sent a finger sliding along the crease of the box. I teased her about the nibble. She giggled.

“I just can’t wait to see what you bought me, Charles,” she gushed.

Then she lifted the lid and pulled out the skunk. Unfortunately, the look on her face as she saw what it was -- wasn’t at all what I’d expected. No cry of joy. No sparkling eyes. No widening smile. Instead her lip quivered, her eyelids closed, and a solitary tear dribbled down the corner of her right eye.

She went utterly still, too.

I didn’t speak. I listened to the clock ticking off the seconds. A log in the fire fizzled and shifted. I don’t believe she heard them. She sighed, a long, sad sigh, a sigh that almost broke my heart.

“Oh,” she said finally as she stared down at the skunk.

“Don’t you like it?” I questioned, my stomach churning with worry.

Her long hair was once again wreathing her face. I reached out to pull it back, needing to see Beth Ann's expression. A stray curl slid out of my hand. It fell back to touch the ivory of her cheek. I drew in a sharp breath.

We’d been lovers for seven years; I knew it was the wrong moment for my body to desire her. This was a time for tenderness and understanding. Yet what man could help desiring Beth Ann’s full lips and languid brown eyes? I ignored what my body wanted me to do.

“I can take the skunk back,” I said, hoping to see her look at me, forgiveness in her eyes.

Beth Ann didn’t look up. In fact, I saw she was crying.

“What is it?” I asked her gently, taking her hand in mine. “What have I done?”

She looked up then. Her tears were like acid dripping down on my soul.

“You don’t understand,” Beth Ann sobbed. “Maybe you’ll never understand.”

But she was wrong. I suddenly did. Despite the size of the box, despite the fact that it was too heavy to be a ring, Beth Ann had hoped.

It wasn’t the skunk that had appalled her; it was the fact that I hadn’t come through for her. For another year, I still hadn’t risen to her expectations.

My heart jumped halfway out of my chest. In that moment with the warmth of Beth Ann’s breath in my face and her eyes still swimming with desolation, I knew just exactly what it would take to change tears to smiles.

I’d once believed that life should be carefully measured, planned, forded with caution. Yet a trembling lip and brown eyes streaming with tears bore straight through my heart, rewriting my previously chosen script.

I had a reputation for thinking fast on my feet. At that moment my brain kicked into action, ““The skunk is me, don't you see?” I said. “I've been the skunk in this relationship, but I beg you now to spend this day shopping for a ring, a wedding ring. Will you?”

She’d been quietly sobbing, but with my words, she looked up, hope ablaze. She nodded so violently her whole body jiggled delightfully. “Yes, Carl! Yes!” she shouted. Then she smiled at me so brilliantly, my heart did loop-de-loops..

I took the robotic skunk from her and placed it back in the box. She watched as I closed the lid and kicked it over to the side. But then she shot up and retrieved the skunk and clutched it to her breast.

“He’s mine,” she cried, hugging it. “My skunk,” she said, and her smile completely melted every last ounce of my composure. But that didn’t matter for I was soon busy kissing my new bride-to-be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~994 words ~~~~~~~~~~~~