5. MATTHEWS

MATTHEWS

2012

“Stop dragging your feet,” Daddy warned.

The cool air nipped at my skin as we walked down the path toward the Cody house. The trees were bare and the little snow that fell that morning had already melted. Typical Texas. I would give anything for the white Christmas they have in the movies. Just once.

“At this rate, Ryan will have the bird carved and eaten before we even get there,” Dad grumbled, the ends of his reddish brown hair had started to turn gray and his attitude grumbly.

Momma laughed under her breath at him and I didn’t understand why. Dad wasn’t that funny, he usually just complained about everything.

“What’s eating at you?” She slowed down to match my pace.

“Nothin’,” I mumbled, and she reached out to tug on a stray piece of my dark hair to get my attention. “I couldn’t find anything fancy for Cael.” I stared down at the small box and scowled.

“I know for a fact that boy will love whatever is in that box. He’s never hated a damn thing in his entire life, Lovebug.” She tapped the top of the box and smiled. “You could stuff it with dead bugs, and he’d still find a reason to love it.”

“That’s silly.” I laughed and brushed my thumb over the box.

“But it’s true,” she cooed at me, stopping us just before we got to their steps. “Christmas isn’t about how fancy a gift you got, Clem. It’s about spending time with the people in your life that make every day feel like a gift.”

“I spend every day with Cael, it was supposed to be special today.” I didn’t mean to, but a small whine slipped from my lips.

“I can assure you, little Lovebug, today is special. He will treasure whatever you’ve brought him,” Momma said.

“What if he doesn't?” I asked her.

“Then he’s a silly little boy with a silly little brain and, one day, it will catch up to him and he’ll realize just how much of a gift you are.” She cupped my jaw in her hand and kissed my forehead, leaving a small, warm tingle on my skin.

Before I had time to argue again, the front door swung open and a lanky, twelve-year-old Cael stepped out on the porch in the ugliest pajama pants I’ve ever seen.

“You like them? Ma found them at the thrift store.” He spun in a circle, nearly falling over sideways in the process, and smiled at me. They had dogs or cats on them, all wearing cute little red hats. “She found you some too!” He held up a bundle of fabric from behind his back. Similar to his own but bright green.

“They’re ugly.” I laughed but took them from him anyway. I looked down at the box in my hand and held it out to him with a shake. “Here.”

Cael smiled down at the box, his ruffled blonde brows pinching together as he took it from me. He popped the lid quickly and unwrapped the tissue paper that I had spent hours trying to fold nicely. The crumpled edges were a testament to my struggle.

Cael chucked the paper aside, lifting from the box the small bracelet that I had threaded for him. Shades of blue, teal, purple, and gray. All of our favorites wound together in a flat, lined pattern. It had taken me forever to get the knots just right and tight enough to hold in a flat line. It was the most frustrating thing I had ever created, and I cried over it at least four times but had decided the shed tears were worth it until this morning when I had second-guessed everything.

I had never been so nervous I wanted to puke before.

I'd never hear the end of it if I puked on Cael on Christmas.

I swallowed the bile.

He was so silent for so long, but then a smile spread across his face, and he dropped the box to the ground, rushing forward with the bracelet held up to the December sun.

“It’s so cool, Plum!” He gasped and extended his wrist to me. He had called me Plum since our eighth birthdays, I never understood why. At first it had made me feel silly, but now it made me feel special. My cheeks felt so warm.

“Help me?” He asked and gave me his wrist. Momma gave me a small wink, took the ugly pants from me, and disappeared inside the house, leaving just the two of us outside.

“Did you make this?” Cael asked me.

“There was a book of patterns in the school library…and-” I paused, looking around and leaning in closer to him as I tied a knot in the thread. “I took the colors from the corner store.”

“You stole them…” he gasped. “Tie it tighter I don't want it to come off.”

I double-knotted the thread and stepped back from him.

“It’s perfect.” He looked up from his wrist to me, and I understood what Momma meant. That Christmas wasn’t special because of the gifts; it was special simply because of the way Cael made me feel. “Mama made sweet potatoes without the marshmallows the way you like, and Dad threw a fit. You just missed it.”

“The marshmallows make it too sweet,” I scoffed and followed him into the house without another thought.