Page 8 of Kiren

When that was done, Max drove us back to the office. We made our second date for the very next day, which was a Friday. He said he would take me to a nice dinner and we’d discuss things more in detail.

I got home from work that night and went through my usual routine, showering, treating my scars, and eating soup and crackers while cuddling with Brobear on the couch. But everything had changed. It was like I was floating, walking on clouds. The food was great. The TV had on programs that made me laugh. I was excited to see Max again. Even more thrilled to discover he ticked my one big box on my dating list: he was a daddy.

I was still a bit afraid. I talked to Brobear.

“Max is nice. He’ll understand why I’m happy and nervous all at once, right Brobear? He won’t push me into anything physical, I can tell. I’ll be safe with him.”

Though I still worried that my body was ugly, a turn-off, maybe Max wouldn’t be disgusted. Or maybe if things did go far enough to be physical, he’d let me keep a t-shirt on. Or we’d do things in the dark.

My body already wanted him. The moment he’d said he was a daddy, I’d lost control of it. But that was my need blooming beneath the skin after so much downtime. Emotionally, I had some catching up to do, but my body knew what it wanted.

“Brobear,” I said, hugging him hard. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

Max arrangedit so that we’d both go home from work on Friday night, change, and then he’d pick me up. I enjoyed that he wanted to take that dominant role, driving, choosing the restaurant. He even insisted that he would pay.

I ran around my condo letting out little whoops, hopping up and down in my closet as I chose my outfit. I decided on black jeans and a white pullover sweater. The wind had come up andthe night air was cold. My doctors had told me I had to stay warm because my health was what they called fragile. That was an awful word at any age. I had my scarf and jacket ready to go.

I kept running to my front window that faced my tiny driveway, looking for Max. He wasn’t late, I was just impatient.

The tops of the trees swayed. The night sky was weighed down by clouds. Houses across the street from the lot had colorful lights up, dancing in the wind. I tossed my knit cap on the pile by the door with my coat and scarf.

I had no decorations. My first two Christmases after the accident, I’d been home. My parents had trees and gifts. This was my first Christmas in my condo and I didn’t have so much as a Christmas knickknack. Except for Max’s gifts. The windup Santa sat on the coffee table, all shiny and cute, right new to a two-inch light up Christmas tree. My latest gift, the big candy cane, sat on my kitchen counter. That was it.

Pathetic. I loved Christmas. My little side always had. I was going to have to think about what to do about my living space, especially since my parents were taking off this year. Now that they finally had me out of their house and well again, they were going to the Bahamas.

I’d been sad to hear it would be over Christmas, but also glad. Even though they were wealthy now, they still worked hard from home, overlooking every aspect ofLiving Sun, and they’d taken care of me through the worst of times. They deserved time away. They were leaving two days before Christmas and promised we could have a nice dinner and exchange gifts when they got back in January.

Max couldn’t have timed his entrance into my life better.

I leaned toward the front window again, searching the streets for car lights turning into the complex. I realized I had one hand behind my back, my fingers crossed. And in the background of my mind was a chant.

Please let this work out. Max is so beautiful and nice. I want him. I want him badly.

Finally, Max’s car drove into the lot. I ran to the front door, then hesitated. Should I run out to meet him or would that look too desperate?

I held myself back. Maybe I should let him come to the door and ring the bell.

I shuffled from one foot to the other. When I peered out the peephole, Max was already out of his car. He carried something small in his arms.

I opened the door so I could see better. The cold air blew in. Max saw me and called out.

“Hey, Kit.”

“I’m all ready.”

“Great. But first, I brought you something.”

As Max got closer, I saw he held a little tree about one foot tall. It had shiny little ornaments tied to its branches and gleamed under the walkway lights. When he stepped up the little step that led to my door, he held it out.

“For me?”

“I never go to someone’s house empty-handed,” Max replied.

“Another gift?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

I took it into my hands. It was beautiful.

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