Page 51 of Saving Sparrow
I opened the velvet box inside, my jaw dropping as I removed the hair comb he’d gotten me. The teeth were silver and sturdy, the handle stacked with green-gemmed flowers.
“White gold and emeralds,” Miguel said, getting up and coming behind me. “It was my mother’s, and now it’s yours.” He loosened my braid, fluffing out the wavy strands before retaking his seat. He took the clip from me, leaning over to place it in my hair. Pulling his phonefrom his pocket, he opened the camera app, reversing the screen before handing it to me.
“I love it,” I whispered, fingering it. The green stones complemented my hair color. Miguel loved gifting me his mother’s things. I only accepted the items she’d never worn or used. I felt too guilty accepting anything else.
“Thank you, Miguel.”
“I love it when you blush,” he said. I couldn’t help it. I’d never felt so cherished before or worthy of anything good.
“Okay, my turn.” Quentin snatched Miguel’s phone from me, bullying his gift into my hands. “And none of that pretty unwrapping. I need you to tear the paper apart like your fucking life depends on it.” He could be so dramatic.
“You’re such an idiot.” Miguel snorted as I chuckled.
Wanting Quentin to feel special, I did as he asked. I’d still save the shreds of glittery paper anyway. Opening the gift box, I dug through the tissue paper, pulling out the blue and white football jersey inside. It had the number ten on the front. Quentin’s number.
“Turn it around,” he said eagerly, scooting to the edge of his seat.
“Quentin’s #1 fan,” I read out loud. Quentin’s face lit up, but Miguel groaned.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you pick out your own gift.”
“Hey.” Quentin sounded offended, “I’m great at picking out gifts.”
“He got me a barbecue grill for my birthday,” Miguel said to me, folding his arms over his chest as if to say, ‘see?’
“You were craving barbecue all week!”
“So, then you take me to Patty’s Smoke Shack for lunch or something. You don’t buy me an Olympic-sized propane grill and ten pounds of beef.”
“I stand by the purchase,” Quentin said, before taking the jersey from me. “And look, I had them line the inside with silk.” He turned it inside out to show me. “So you can feel like yourself while wearing it at my games.”
“Thanks. I love it.” I took it back from him. “I can’t wait to wear it.”
Quentin gave Miguel a smug look. “See, he loves it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Miguel smiled before conceding with a nod. There was no denying how thoughtful Quentin’s gift was, even if it was also a little ego-driven.
“Open this one next.” Quentin handed me another gift.
It was a football signed by Allen Smith. Quentin and I liked to watch his highlight reels before bed sometimes. He also happened to be Quentin’s favorite player. As I learned more and more about the game, he was fast becoming my favorite player too.
“We’re going to share that one,” Quentin said, then tried to wrestle it from my hands.
Miguel turned the music on overhead after all the gifts were opened. We ate wings and cake while Quentin made a fool of himself dancing on the countertops. He lacked the skill Miguel had.
We ended the night cannonballing into the pool fully clothed, then racing through the house soaking wet.
Miguel and Quentin showered together—as usual. I’d come to see it as something normal, along with the way they loved each other.
I’d never had love, and never felt normal, so the way they were with each other both fascinated and intimidated me. They loved as if nothing stood in their way. My parents hadn’t even loved each other like that. Maybe because God stood in their way.
I showered and washed the chlorine from my hair in the bathroom across the hall, then slipped into a cotton nightgown before meeting Miquel and Quentin in the sitting area of our room.Ourroom. That was what it felt like.
They both looked exhausted after their shower. Quentin’s cheeks were pink beneath his light smattering of freckles, and Miguel could barely stand. He still read to us from the couch, as Quentin brushed and braided my hair.
We crawled between the sheets a short while later. Quentin lay protectively at my back, and Miguel faced me, holding my hands.
“What are you praying for tonight?” Miguel whispered in the dark. I didn’t pray as often, but some habits were too hard to break. Praying before bed was definitely one of them.
