Page 36 of I Blame the Alcohol

“Okay.” Her voice trembles like she’s also struggling to keep the emotions at bay.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” I scurry over to my nightstand and pull out an artfully wrapped box that I spent way too long perfecting weeks ago.

“Merry Christmas, Sis.” I go to pass her the gift, but Lou bolts from the room, leaving me standing there awkwardly with the gift dangling from my fingertips.

At least the wrapping looks amazing.

Lou reappears two minutes later, huffing from her 10-meter sprint. She’s also clutching something in her hands, making my heart pound with excitement. I can’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t my brother bought me something.

“Merry Christmas, Stella. Thank you for always being there for me.” She’s still panting from the short burst of cardio, and I almost laugh when we make the trade.

If I live for cardio circuits, Lou lives to avoid them.

Lou gingerly pokes the pristine white bow decorating her box, a crease appearing between her brows, “It looks too pretty to open.”

I shake my head with a smile, “Go on, I’ve been waiting for you to tear that apart.”

Okay, that may have been a lie.

ButI amexcited to see her reaction for what lies inside.

Carefully pulling at the bow, Lou slowly peels back the paper and gasps when she lifts the lid, “Oh, Stella. It’s lovely.”

She holds up a silver bracelet with a single guitar-shaped charm hanging off the end. Her boyfriend stole my mojo with the cutesy initial and flower necklace, so I had to go for her other passion: alternative rock music.

“Now you’ll always have something to remember our Punk Rockers Event by.”

Lou beams as she slides the delicate chain around her wrist, “I love it. This is so much better than those leather pantsuits. Thank you, Stella.”

She shoots a quick look at the gift still untouched in my hands and blushes deeply, “I’m sorry about the wrapping paper. It was a bit of a last-minute situation.”

I laugh, waving away her concerns, “The obituary section from last week’s newspaper is all I’ve ever wanted for Christmas.”

Lou gasps, “It’s not the obituary section, is it? Oh, Stella, I’m so sorry. I thought I used the weather segment.”

The seriousness in her expression only makes me laugh harder.

“Cheers to making it another year!” My hilarity is contagious and soon we are both cracking up, tears running down our faces as I gasp for air.

“I’m just joking, Lou. You didn’t have to get me anything. This means… This means a lot.”

Still giggling uncontrollably, Lou gestures towards the gift, “Don’t thank me yet. It could be last year’s obituary hidden in there.”

I grin, tearing into the clumsily wrapped gift. A simple black frame tumbles into my hands, a roommate selfie Lou and I took during one of our many outings this semester. We are smiling cheek-to-cheek, friendship and happiness overflowing from the captured moment.

My breath catches as I read the sparkly sticker letters added to the bottom of the frame.

Roommates for now, Sisters for life.

“I, uh, noticed you didn’t have any pictures in your room, so I though this could be the first.” Lou nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, my silence doing nothing to help her discomfort.

Truth is, I’m speechless.

“No, it’s just…” I trail off, unsure how to explain the love and gratitude flowing through my veins. “It’s just so thoughtful. Thank you, Lou.” Emotions clog my throat as I pull her back for yet another hug.

“I know exactly where to put it.”

Cody

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