Second Best Gift

Francesca stared at the miraculous display of the gift shop's front window, her brown, doe-like eyes sparkling much like the glitter reflecting from the biodegradable, eco-friendly faux snow surrounding her. As of this moment, she would buy—in her humble opinion, that is—the greatest present of all time, better than any parent has gotten from a young child before.

With a hum, she entered the small shop—hardly any bigger than her bedroom at home, really—and waved the shop clerk over. He must have been in either his teens or his early twenties. It was hard to tell. Every adult basically looked the same to her. Regardless of age, though, he didn't look particularly thrilled to be here, as his jaws hammered a blue wad of gum in his mouth.

"Welcome to Extrapolis Gifts," said the young man, before blowing a bubble of gum and subsequently popping it. "What can I do for you?"

If she'd felt nervous whatsoever, she did not make it known. She had prepared for this moment long in advance, after all; two grueling, strenuous weeks of practice, as always, just for her to point to the portable DVD player at the display window and say, "I'd like to buy that DVD player, please."

The young man eyed the display, then looked back down at her. "Alright, but it's gonna cost ya."

She giggled. "I know that, silly! That's the point! I've been saving up all my monthly allowance so I can buy my dad the best Christmas present ever."

He raised a brow then. "Christmas was three days ago."

"Alright," she quipped. "So maybe I'm just a tiny bit late to the party. But it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, kid, I just work here. You wanna buy it or not?"

"Yes, please!"

As he proceeded to sell the DVD player to her, she haggled with him for rather a short while—a quality which she'd assumed she must have learned from a certain fatherly figure of hers. Granted, it did help that her target in this scenario was an easy one. No teenager-to-young-adult cares enough to negotiate prices with an eight-year-old any longer than they have to. So, having only spent $50 as opposed to the standard $70, Francesca held her head up high as she departed, quite satisfied with her purchase.

And before she knew it, the world had changed right before her eyes, as natural to the adults around her as day turning to night, as water turning to mist. Francesca hated this feeling; it reminded her all too much of life itself—that this happiness she currently felt, too, would inevitably slide back into oblivion.

But, only being twelve years old, Francesca was unable to put such abstract thoughts into words. So, as always, she said nothing—even as those around her smiled, waved, encouraged, tried to engage. Instead, she remained still, eyes squeezed shut until the world had opened up once more, with Ben there to greet her now; and once more, the peace had been restored, if only for a moment.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him and wrapping her wee arms around him in an embrace. She'd nearly dropped the present in the process. Fortunately, with her arms around his neck, this remained unobserved—nobody would be ever the wiser to such a small mistake.

"Hey, kiddo!" said Ben. When he'd returned the embrace, he did not squeeze, his touch as light as a feather. She appreciated it greatly; a nice change compared to all of the tight, stuffy, overstimulating sensations she endured all too frequently. Ben was different. He had always been different. "You seem to be in a good mood. What's up?"

That's when she held it up then, the DVD player—but when she gazed down at it in her hands, it was wrapped crisply in green wrapping paper, with tiny little Santas and reindeer scattered upon it and a shiny red bow stuck on top. It was not wrapped when she'd bought it, let alone the fact that no eight-year-old (or was it twelve? She could no longer remember.) could possibly wrap a gift so delicately, so perfectly. Another inconsistency within her contrived life. Once again, she felt her world begin to crumble little by little. Yet, still, she kept these thoughts to herself. She had a job to do, after all.

"I got this for you," she told him, all smiles.

"For me?" he echoed. He wasted no time in unwrapping the gift, his seemingly unbridled joy upon the sight of the player encasing her with fervor. "The DVD-L10 I've been eyeing for forever, with a built-in LCD monitor with 280,000 pixels to show crisp detail with wide screen images? Why, Katie, I love it!"

She casted her gaze to the luxury vinyl flooring, her hands clasped together behind her back. "I'm sorry it's a few days late, Dad. I really wish I could've gave it to you on Christmas. Does it still count?"

He chuckled then. "Of course it does, honey. After all, it's the thought that matters. It's the second best gift a father could ever ask for."

"The second best?"

"Well, the first is you, Katie!"

Once again, she wrapped her arms around him. "Merry Christmas, Ben."

And just like that, the world had shattered entirely with just one word from the director.

"Cut!"

What happened next all felt like a haze—much like a long night's rest. The kind of rest in which one sleeps so deeply they cannot recall last night's dream, or the kind where one sleeps on a limb for too long, unmoving, and wakes up feeling incredibly sore. Except that she could not recall waking up from such a slumber with so many bruises. In hindsight, sleep would have been much better.

Nonetheless, as she began to process her surroundings, as always, it was her mother—her real mother—who stood beside her when she regained her senses.

"Are you ready to do take two?"

Without so much as a word, Francesca nodded her head.

"And don't fuck it up this time. Don't call him Ben—call him Dad. Dad. Like you love him. You hear me?"

Her first instinct was to apologize. I'm sorry. I won't mess up again. I'll practice my lines more. But Francesca (or was it Katie?) knew that apologies were worthless. It was far easier to keep her thoughts to herself. To do what she was born to do.

And so, as always, Francesca put on her brave face, and continued to do her job.