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.Not only was she re-gifting, she was re-gifting my gift for her back to me.and doing it with a smile on her face because supposedly I had no recollection of giving it to her in the first place.I put on my best poker face and smiled warmly.“I love it!”“Is it your size?” Samantha said, trying to egg me on.“Well, of course it’s not my size,” I said sweetly.“But that’s not what matters.It’s a lovely sweater from my mother.Something she picked out just for me.Thank you, Mom!”“You’re welcome, dear.”“Which one is mine?” asked Sam, and I pointed her to her box.“This one is yours from me,” she said as she tore into her present and expected me to do the same.I opened mine up to find a travel kit.But not just any travel kit.An American Airlines first class overnight kit.The kit they give you when you travel to Europe or somewhere far enough that you conceivably could sleep, if not crumpled into your seat like a used paper towel in a restaurant bathroom.“Thank you so much, Samantha.I’ll have to take a vacation so I can use this!”“You’re welcome,” she said, holding up her gift from me.“Uh, a blow-dryer?”“Neat, huh?” I practically cheered.“Yeah.neat,” she said.“If the three that I already have give out, I’ll go right to this one.”“Oh, you have one?” I said, slumping at the shoulders.“Sorry, I didn’t know!” She looked at our mom, who shrugged and continued to open her presents from me, seeming nonplussed.Then we were all startled out of our wits when Walter yelled.“Hot damn! This is fantastic,” he said, and I looked to see him holding the flashlight up.“Jordan, I actually needed one of these.You always need a flashlight,” he said, and he meant it, bless his amiable soul.“Thank you, sweetheart.”“You’re welcome, Dad,” I said as he touched my hair, tucking it just behind my ear, providing a feeling of safety and family (even if only momentary) that I never got to feel.Memories are divine moments, painted over with emotions so they’re hardly recognizable.No matter.I felt happy all of a sudden.And for that moment, and maybe no other, it was a Christmas I wouldn’t ever pretend to forget.* * * * *The Christmas gifts I had put a modicum of thought into were for Travis.We were still somewhat in the polite, getting-to-know-you stage, so I wanted to get him something thoughtful and sweet but not too much of a big deal because that might freak him out.It was a delicate balance: What if my present wasn’t as nice as the one he got me? What if it was too nice? The good news was that it wasn’t a birthday, so we were both in the same gift-giving boat—both equally at risk of scuttling the whole thing.There’s nothing worse than misinterpreting where you are in a relationship and being made painfully aware of it in the form of a gift exchange.Which actually happened with Dirk one Valentine’s Day early on.I always did have seriously bad Valentine’s Day karma.I’d spent about an hour in the Hallmark store, trying to find the right card.Nothing that said I love you, nothing too mushy—just something cute and sweet.I bought him an oversize Hershey’s kiss and a little red teddy bear.It was very mainstream, easily obtained, and not expensive, and it had no chance of suggesting I’d put too much thought into the decision, quite a feat after more than an hour of anguished hunting.It was just enough for where I thought we were.Dirk called me about ten minutes before he was scheduled to pick me up and said he was running a few minutes late—never a good sign—which I didn’t know would be status quo for the rest of our relationship.When I asked what we were doing, he said he didn’t know.I didn’t know if that meant that it was a surprise and he was being coy, or if he really hadn’t put any thought into it, but I’d find out soon enough.When Dirk finally showed up seventy-two minutes later, he had a casual air about him that immediately put me on the defensive.Or would have—had it not been Valentine’s Day.But I figured that St.Valentine would be forgiving—how else does someone get to sainthood?—and so should I.I gave him a kiss hello and watched him as he took his tan leather coat off and walked over to my couch.“So.what are we doing?” I asked.“I’m kind of tired,” he said.“Want to just order in?”“Sure,” I said, conjuring St.Valentine’s magnanimous and nonviolent spirit once again.We ordered Indian food and watched TV until it arrived.When the buzzer rang, I got up to get the door, pausing once to look back in his direction.A look that might have suggested, It is Valentine’s Day, dear Dirk, so right about now you might think about getting your ass off the couch to come pay for this dinner.Nothin’.So I paid, thinking he must just be spacing out.He’ll realize and jump up with his wallet at any time.Or the delivery guy will say, “Oh, one more thing.” and produce one more thing.Something.I tucked the card, bear, and chocolate into the bag and then brought it over to the table.He unpacked it and smiled when he saw the gifts.“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said.He opened the card and smiled.I hadn’t written anything too sentimental.I think I just went with the message on the card and signed my name.“You too,” he said, and leaned in to kiss me.I kissed him back halfheartedly as I wondered what was going through his head.If anything.And then he dug into the food.I sat there somewhat astonished and suddenly lacking appetite, but I choked the food down nonetheless.I mean, I’d paid for it.After we ate, he attempted a bit of a make-out session, but I wasn’t exactly into it, as I was still waiting for my teddy bear.Finally he gave up and said he was tired, put his leather coat back on, and left.I always knew that having expectations was just a way to set myself up for disappointments, but still.it was Valentine’s Day.It wasn’t that he’d completely overlooked the holiday after asking me to spend it with him, so much as it was the final blow—him leaving his card, candy, and teddy bear sitting on my table.You live and you learn.And you don’t spend Valentine’s Day with someone who says, “What’s up?” every single time he calls you.You’re calling me, Dirk—you’re the one who’s supposed to know what’s up.But what a difference a guy makes.This was Christmas and this was Travis.I had typed and printed the Longfellow poem.My big plan was twofold.I was going to have the poem copied on parchment paper and then burn the edges to make it look like some lost (then found) document.An artifact.Maybe even the original Longfellow manuscript
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