The Gift

The Gift

It was a blustery evening, and Megan shivered as she locked the door of the small book store, then shook it to make sure it was securely locked. It was something she did even when she locked her apartment door.

As she turned to walk down the sidewalk toward her apartment, she saw her again—the same woman who had been coming into the book store recently to browse. She never bought anything, just looked through various sections, most of which gave Megan a clear view of her. It was actually quite strange. She never removed her brown wool coat and avoided all eye contact with Megan. It gave her goosebumps every time the mysterious lady came in.

Megan had felt her dark eyes on her in the shop, just staring at her. When she had smiled at her the first few times, the lady just turned away, as if embarrassed at being caught. Eventually, tired of the polite gestures, Megan gave up trying to speak to the lady, and made every effort to just ignore her altogether.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up at seeing her out here on the street. Her brow wrinkled as she studied the woman more closely. She seemed vaguely familiar, but she wasn't anyone Megan could remember meeting. There was nothing unusual about her. She was just an ordinary woman in her late thirties or early forties, with brown hair and some streaks of gray already beginning to show. She didn't seem to be dangerous, but it sent tingly electricicty up Megan's spine everytime she came around.

Today she was wearing the same brown wool coat she always wore, which smelled faintly of moth balls. A worn wool scarf protected her head from the cold. Megan noticed the familiar squeak of her shoes as they approached each other.

The woman had something in her hand, and opened her mouth, as if she would finally speak. No words were exchanged, though, and they went their separate ways, the mystery still growing in Megan's mind.

That night, as she studied for her English finals, it was hard to concentrate. She sipped on her coffee, hoping the caffeine would help her stay focussed. She couldn't get the image of that lady out of her mind. It was odd to have some stranger following her around for no apparent reason.

She went about her daily routine of school and work, seeing the lady pass by her nearly every day. Each time it seemed more and more obvious that the lady had something to say to Megan, but could not bring herself to speak. Finding herself wanting to break the ice and find out who this curious lady was, she almost spoke herself, but never found the courage to initiate a conversation. After all, what could she say? "Haven't I noticed you around here before?" or "Hey, why are you stalking me?" Neither approach felt right, so she just kept her mouth shut.

One night, as she once again closed the shop, she turned to walk to her apartment, expecting to see the lady as usual. She wasn't there. Now, it seemed spooky to not see her. It was beginning to drizzle a cold rain, so Megan hurried toward her apartment, assuming the woman had been kept in by the weather. She had no time to worry about such matters tonight. It was her birthday, and she was rushing home to change clothes. Her best friends, Fiona, Donna, and Karen, were treating her to a nice dinner and then a movie. History and English would have to wait. She deserved this night out, and she really needed the break.

As she approached her apartment, she reached down into her coat pocket for her keys, and then noticed a package lying on the floor outside her apartment. For some reason she felt goosebumps as she reached down to pick it up. She carried it inside and hurriedly opened it up, not even taking off her wet coat. She began ripping the plain brown paper it was wrapped in and felt her heart beat faster and faster with each passing second.

Finally it was open, and inside the box was an old photo in a frame. She stared at the toddler and the lady who was holding her, and suddenly realized two things. The lady was the woman who had been following her, only this photo was taken at least 20 years ago. She was unable to believe her eyes—she recognized the child too. She knew this little girl from pictures her parents had taken of her soon after her adoption. Breathless and fighting back the tears, she opened up the card that was taped to the back of the frame. It took her a while to wipe the tears away and read the card. She slowly began to understand it all. It simply read, "Happy Birthday my sweet child." 555-210-7849. Call me if you want to."

Pat Nelson
September 7, 2010

813 Words