Melissa's Gift

Melissa deserved the world. If I could give it to her, I would in a heartbeat. I was the type of boyfriend who showered his girl with gifts just to catch a glimpse of her bright smile. Melissa didn’t need to ask for anything. Whatever I thought she would like I got, and I had a knack for knowing the right gift when I saw it. We’d been married for eight years and the tradition never ceased to fade. Until three years ago, Melissa began asking for something specific, something a little more challenging than I was used to. Normally, I bought her souvenirs from places I traveled to for work or decorative pieces for her to set up the house with, but not this time. She asked for the same gift for her last birthday and the birthday before that, but I suppose I didn’t get the right kind. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake a third time. After all, third time's a charm.

I came home to find Melissa in our son, Danny’s, room, sitting in the rocking chair and closing the book of Danny’s favorite story. She was dressed in the nightgown I’d bought for her for Christmas, as she usually was. She loved it so much she hardly ever dressed in anything else. I lightly pulled her head to my lips and kissed the top of her head.

“Hey, hon,” I said smiling. “You know, you’re birthday is coming up. This Saturday. Looking forward to it?”

“I just hope you can get me the gift I want,” Melissa said with fatigue in her voice.

“I know I’ve messed up your gift these past two years, but I’ll get it right this time,” I promised. “It’s a tricky one to find. How about we get you to bed? It looks like you’ve had a long day.”

Melissa’s eyes slowly began to shut as she nodded in agreement. I pulled her from the chair and started down the hall. She rubbed at her eyes like a little child before a nap. Melissa crawled into bed and, almost instantly, drifted to sleep. I watched her for a moment, taking in her kind, soft features and falling in love with her all over again. Even under her crazed hair and developing bags under her eyes, her beauty was just as radiant as it was years ago. She deserved the perfect gift more than anyone in the world. I just had to find the right one.

I took the day off from work that Friday to focus on Melissa’s gift. If it was going to be perfect, I needed the time to find it. Melissa was relaxing in the living room when I told her I was going out to run some errands. She simply nodded and focused back on the football game she wasn’t actually interested in. I left the house in an excited rush and drove around town for hours. I scanned the outlets of the malls, into the recreation center, and even down the rich neighborhoods on the high hills of my small town. Nothing I found was right. Evening was fast approaching, but my determination to find Melissa’s perfect gift was still in full effect as it was that morning. Somewhere in town, someone would have it. 

The sun was peeking over the mountain tops as I reached the end of the town’s border. There wasn’t much land to cover when there was a population of around eight-hundred people. I traveled back into town, down the same streets I’d been down too many times to count. Every logical place to look for Melissa’s desired present didn’t have it. After starting back into the rural neighborhoods where I lived, I discovered I was looking in the wrong places. About three blocks from my house was a park, a fairly large park for such a backstreet neighborhood. It was known for its elaborate jungle gyms and adjoining dog park. I had taken Melissa and Danny there for picnics numerous times in the past. When I approached the grassy field, herds of people swarmed the picnic benches, smiles spread across their faces. Small children skipped around with bubble wands as their dogs excitedly ran and barked alongside them. The adults occupied themselves at the tables, picking at the last bit of birthday cake the kids didn’t finish. 

My car slowed to a cruise. I watched the happy families celebrate one of the children’s birthdays. I couldn’t tell who was the star of the party as all of the children were wearing matching party hats. A few feet from the main table of the party was another table, one the hosts set up themselves. The table was littered with opened boxes and shredded wrapping paper. The glittering paper twinkled in the setting sunlight, but something else caught my eye, something familiar. My heart jumped at the sight of it, but it brought a swelling joy I couldn’t explain. Melissa’s gift sat at the table amongst the clutter of garbage, I just knew it. Almost instinctively, I drove alongside the curb and put the car in park. It was as if my body was acting on its own, but my mind was allowing it. After hours of searching, her gift sat there on the bench of the table in plain view. I approached the table and inspected the beautiful gift, and in one swift movement, scooped it into my arms and loaded it in the trunk of my car. I knew I shouldn’t take someone else’s present, but it was exactly what Melissa was wanting. I couldn’t pass up the chance. Calmly and quickly, I started home, already imagining the look on Melissa’s face when she saw the gift I’d finally managed to find after so long.

Saturday morning. I woke earlier than I needed to, but the pressure kept my body from relaxing. I knew I got the right gift, but what if I didn’t? Excitement turned to worry. To take my mind off of things, I fixed a hot breakfast for Melissa. My nerves sent me into a cooking frenzy, cooking enough food to feed a village. The intense aroma of the pancakes and hashbrowns must’ve awoken Melissa. She sluggishly made her way down the stairs. Melissa stood at the doorframe of the kitchen and inspected the buffet I prepared for her. I smiled nervously.

“Happy birthday, hon!” I said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Some breakfast, huh?”

Melissa wandered to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk. “Did you find me my present?” she said groggily.

My face lit up. “Yes! I found it! I think I really did it this time.” Without hesitation, I left for the basement where the present was stashed. My heart raced with every step closer to the kitchen. Pretty soon, I was standing in the door frame, standing with the gift I’d spent what felt like weeks searching for. I turned to Melissa with a nervous grin across my face.

“Well?” I said unsteadily. “What do you think?”

Melissa stared intensely at what I brought her. She set down her milk on the counter and slowly approached him. I could feel the little boy shaking under my hand that rested on his shoulder. Melissa knelt down and stared deeply into his familiar brown eyes. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but I couldn’t tell if they were tears of joy or pure grief. Melissa straightened up and met my eyes. I was staring into her eyes now, and her emotion was clear as day. My smile faded and a wave of disappointment swept over my whole body.

“He doesn’t have Danny’s freckles,” Melissa sobbed. “Danny had freckles on his nose. Don’t you remember?”

I knelt down to the boy and inspected his features. His skin was as white as a blanket of fresh snow, not a freckle on his face. Disappointment spiraled into shame. How could I not have seen it? This boy had no freckles. Danny was known for his freckles. It was like I didn’t even know my late son.

Melissa wandered back to the fridge and sipped her milk, her hand visibly shaking as she raised the glass to her lips. Without turning back to me, she said, “He’s just not my Danny. Maybe next year.”

I didn’t want next year. This year was supposed to be the year, but I blew it. He had Danny’s smooth, brown hair, his dark eyes, the right age, but no freckles. A feeling of frustration shot through my body. Another let-down to be disposed of. Maybe next year.