Page 71 of Nineteen Letters
My father was standing at the base of the staircase as I descended, but my gaze was firmly fixed on you. You were standing just inside the doorway, still dressed in your pink pyjamas. Your hair was sticking up all over the place, but to me, you’d never looked more beautiful.
“Merry Christmas, Pop,” I said to him when he pulled me into a one-armed hug.
“Merry Christmas, son.”
The smile on your face grew as I walked towards you. I was only wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms, and I had to suppress my grin when your eyes slowly travelled the length of my body before making their way back to my face.
I’d grown a lot in the nine years we’d been friends. I was now tall and buff, and I liked the idea that you’d just unashamedly checked me out.
“Merry Christmas, Brax,” you said as you revealed the small square, wrapped box from behind your back.
“Merry Christmas, Jem.” I too held the present I had bought for you, out in front of me.
My stomach did a flip-flop when your face lit up.
“You got me a gift?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Open yours first.” I could hear the excitement in your voice as you spoke.
I held my breath as I tore into the paper, revealing a black box. I slowly opened the lid and couldn’t believe my eyes.
“A watch?” I’d never owned a watch before.
“Yes. Do you like it?”
“I love it,” I replied, pulling you into my arms. “Thank you.”
I could tell you were happy that I liked my gift by the huge smile I saw on your face when I finally released you.
I wasted no time strapping it to my wrist. It was perfect, and not only the best present I’d ever received, but the most valuable—and I don’t mean it in monetary terms. It was a gift given by you, a gift from the heart, and one you’d worked hard to buy. It’s something I still treasure to this day.
“Open your gift.”
I stood and watched you unwrap it. Unlike me, you took your sweet time, taking great care not to tear the paper. I was eager for you to see what I’d bought for you, and the suspense was killing me.
You gasped as soon as you removed the lid from the small pink box. “Braxton.” When your eyes moved back to me, I was surprised to see they were brimming with tears. I watched as you ran your fingertip over the tiny silver shell-shaped earrings. “They’re beautiful.”
“As soon as I saw the shells, they reminded me of you.”
“I love them,” you whispered as you wiped your eyes. “Thank you.”
Later that day, my father and I joined your family for lunch. Ma and your mum always went over the top, but they got no complaints from me. I stuffed myself until I was so full I felt sick.
My favourite part of the day, though, was seeing the shift in my father. Once he and your father got stuck into the port after lunch, a different side to him emerged. He relaxed and seemed no longer burdened by his circumstances. I loved seeing him so carefree and happy, even if it was only for just that one day a year.
Boxing Day was usually spent at the beach, and this year was no different. Your dad dropped us off midmorning, with strict instructions that he would pick us up at 2 pm. I had my new watch with me. I’d even slept in it on Christmas night … I didn’t want to take it off.
We were older now, so we didn’t require a chaperone wherever we went. Not only were we sensible, but your parents knew I would look after you, just like I always had.
With you working, it had been weeks since we’d come here, and as we walked towards our usual spot, you pointed towards the row of houses that lined the beach.
“Oh look, they’ve knocked down that old house.”
I headed in that direction to get a closer look. There was something about buildings that fascinated me. Thedifferent shapes, sizes and designs. The framework for a new house was already erected, and I tried to imagine what it would look like when it was completed.
I knew that when I left school; I was going to build or design houses, but I had yet to decide which.
