Flynn and I ate our Chinese food on the floor, both using the chopsticks. “This reminds me of A Christmas Story,” he says.
I start laughing and point my sticks at him. “It does! Where at the end they eat Christmas dinner at a Chinese restaurant.”
“Yup. That’s a great movie. We should see if it’s on TV and watch it tonight.”
“That would be fun,” I agree, taking my last scoop of rice. I’m stuffed and can’t hold anymore, even though I only ate about half of it.
Pushing my container away, I watch Flynn polish his food all the way off, even grabbing my container and eating some of mine. When he’s finished, he lies back on the floor and groans. “I’m dying. That was way too much food.”
“It’s not like someone forced you to eat all that.”
“I know, I know. I got carried away.”
With Flynn lying on his back, the hem of his shirt inches up and I see a small strip of skin above his jeans. It glows golden in the flickering lights and I have a hard time pulling my eyes away from the thin patch of dark hair that is disappearing under the waistband. My eyes do finally move and travel upward. He’s wearing a V-neck, black sweater and I can still see the two burns marks peeking out. They’ve healed well, with only a slight reddening of the skin remaining, and he swears they don’t hurt anymore. Flynn was only out of work for a week, although he had to spend another week on light duty. Just about the time he got released to full duty, his vacation started, so I think he’s getting a little restless. Flynn is definitely not the type that likes to sit around and do nothing.
“Do you want to open presents?” I ask.
Flynn raises his head from the floor and cracks one eye open at me. “Does Chinese food make you want to barf if you eat too much?”
“I don’t know, does it?”
Sitting up with a groan, Flynn says, “Hell yeah, it does, but I’ll get over it. So let’s get this party going.”
Standing up, I walk into the kitchen. “I got a surprise. Stay there.”
When I return, I’m holding a chilled bottle of champagne and two flutes. Flynn looks at me with interest.
“What you got there?”
Holding my implements up, I say, “I figure we could celebrate Christmas and also do a toast to Nix and Emily.”
Flynn hops up from the ground and takes the bottle from me. He deftly removes the foil and wire cage from the cork and, holding it to the side and angled away from me, he easily pops it open. I hold the flutes out and he pours us each a glass before setting the bottle on the coffee table.
Holding my glass up, I say, “Merry Christmas, Flynn. I can never thank you for all you’ve done for me. And here’s wishing Nix and Emily a beautiful Christmas wedding.”
Flynn taps his flute against mine and we both raise our glasses, staring at each other while we sip. Even after our glasses lower, I still can’t tear my eyes from his and I love how the hazel color gleams under the Christmas lights, causing sparkles to appear.
Flynn finally breaks away and sets his glass down. He smacks his palms together and then briskly rubs them back and forth. “I want presents. Now. Now. Now.”
Laughing, I set my glass down and then pick up my present from the coffee table. We both sit down on the couch, side by side, with only an inch of space between us. I hand the gift over with a qualification. “It’s not much. I hope you don’t think it’s too lame.”
Flynn shakes the small box near his ear, trying to harbor a guess as to what it holds. He then sets it in his lap and tears into the paper, revealing a brown box underneath that is taped shut. He picks at the edges of the tape, and rips it back. Peeling the flaps away, he reaches inside and pulls his gift out. It’s wrapped in tissue paper, which he easily removes, and then he holds it up before him.
It’s a brown leather journal and has embossed on the front, “The Story of Me”. Flynn reaches over to his right and flips on the table lamp so he can see it better. He shoots a curious glance at me but I don’t say anything.
I watch as he opens the cover and reads the words out loud I had written just this morning.
Flynn,
You saved my life and you are my hero. You offered me friendship with no judgment, and kindness when I needed it most. You’ve shown me that it is okay to trust, and I want to always continue to develop our bond.
For a while, I divided my life into pre- and post-Flynn, because my life seemed so much better after meeting you. But then I realized, my entire life is what makes me... well, me, and thus I need to celebrate it all.
I want to share all of it with you.
So, I’ve written furiously the last two weeks, and I’m giving you The Story of Me, so that you can know me better than anyone on this earth.
Love,
Rowan
With a smile on his face, Flynn takes his fingertip and strokes it gently over my name.
I lean in closer to him and turn to the first page of the book. It reads, What is your favorite childhood memory?
“See... it’s a journal that asks probing questions about your life. You just fill in the answers. I tried to answer everything as honestly as I could, even though some of them were lame.”
Flynn is quiet as he reads my answer. It wasn’t the coolest of memories, but it was actually when my mom let me play dress up with her. I must have been about five or so, and she let me wear her heels, she styled my hair, and she let me put on makeup. It was a great memory, because it wasn’t too long after that she started to lose interest in me.
When Flynn finishes reading, he doesn’t say a word but flips through a few pages until he finds one that catches his eye. I peer closer and it asks, Describe your high school years.
Flynn starts reading, lost in my words. I just watch him... silently, as he reads about all of the terrible things I did to get my parents’ attention. I told him some of it before, but I didn’t hold back now on all the ways in which I was an awful child.
When he finishes reading, he turns the book face down on his lap to save his place and turns to look at me. “This is, without a doubt, the best present anyone has ever given me.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss on my knuckles. My heart melts into a soft puddle and I actually sigh.
Flynn starts to pick up the book to read again, but I grab it from him. “Uh-uh, buddy. I get a present, too.”
He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow, giving me a devilish grin. “You do?”
“Damn tootin’ I do. Now get it. Pronto.” I stand up from the couch and grab his hand, pulling him along. “Shoo. Go get my present.”
Chuckling, Flynn walks down the hall to his bedroom. Within just a minute, he’s back, carrying a huge box. He must have had it hidden in his closet. He sits it down on the living room floor with a thud. It’s big enough that the top of it comes to the middle of my thigh. I stare at it, wondering what in the hell he got me.
He sweeps his hand toward the box and says, “Dig in.”
I look at him for just a split second and then I dive for the box. I rip the paper in a frenzy and make short work of the tape holding it closed. When I open it, I’m met with thousands of Styrofoam peanuts completely hiding its treasure.
I thrust my hands into the billowy mess and start rooting around. Peanuts go flying everywhere, and Capone immediate starts eating them.
“Flynn... get him away from those.”
I keep digging in the box while Flynn is repetitively saying, “No, Capone. No!”
When I get near the bottom, my entire upper body is practically hanging in the box. My fingers brush against something hard and I latch on, hauling it out.