Page 78 of Second Swing
Once dinner is finished, I bring all the plates to the kitchen and beg her mom to let me help by doing the dishes. When I’m almost done washing, Paloma comes in with a towel and dries the ones I have set out next to the sink.
“Thank you for today. It's been wonderful,” she says as she holds a bowl in her hands, rubbing the towel over the inside once more before putting it away in the cabinet.
“Thankyou.It's been great. I can't think of a better way to spend the holidays than with our families. Let’s go open gifts with your mom, yeah?” I press my lips to her hair and walk into the living room. None of the furniture is new; they’re all perfectly kept antique pieces. Looks like her mom loves thrifting. I put the thought in my back pocket for days out with my future mother-in-law.
Ms. Reyes, who has already started calling memijo, waves her hand to usher me into the room to sit down with her. It's almost midnight, and we’ve all had plenty of coquito and pastries.
The TV plays old Christmas movies, and we talk, chatting about whatever comes to mind. Paloma is curled into my side, her feet covered in Waffles-printed socks—and I mean just that: there are little pictures of Waffles E. Benedict all over her socks. I love how much she loves her cat, and I’ve come to love him too. It reminds me of the Christmas gift I got him. I can't wait for him to enjoy it in the morning.
The moment the clock turns to midnight, Ms. Reyes stands. “Feliz Nochebuena, my loves.” She comes over, kissing us both on the cheeks as she pulls out boxes from under the tree.
Both of Paloma’s diamond earrings and bracelet, along with Waffles’s bed, are already wrapped under the Christmas tree at her place. We both promised to save the more intimate gifts for one another for Christmas morning, and I can’t wait to see her in only the earrings the first chance I get.
“This one is yours, mijo.” I raise my eyebrows a bit, surprise blooming over my face, as Ms. Reyes hands me a bright red gift.
The moment all of us have our respective gifts, they both reach out to one another and give their hands a squeeze, and Paloma’s other hand reaches for mine, intertwining her fingers with my own. “Feliz Navidad, mi familia.”
Her mom and myself echo the sentiment back. Well, Ms. Reyes says it perfectly, but my Spanish is wobbly at best. They both snicker at my attempt, and somehow their joy at my expense warms my heart. Once our hands release, they both tear into their gifts. Not wanting to be left out, I follow behind them and rip at the tissue paper in the bag.
“This is too much,” Paloma’s mom says as she sticks her arms through the cashmere sweater. The cream color looks lovely on her, and I’m glad Paloma helped me pick it out. “Gracias, mijo.”
Paloma pulls at the last bit of wrapping paper and allows it to flutter to the floor. The smile she has splitting her face is stunning. “Oh my God! A waffle maker. Holy crap,thisis too much.” She mimics her mother’s words and actions as she spins the box around to look at the back.
“Nothing is too much for either of you,” I say. I bought her a high-end waffle maker so we can make waffles every damn day if she wants. The appliance is better than the one I have at home. When she notices the card, she opens it, and her eyes snap to mine. There is a recipe for the waffles we made the other morning together.
Chuckling under my breath, I pull the last piece of tissue paper free, now giving my gift my full attention. When my eyes land on the collector’s edition of Biggie SmallsLife After Deathvinyl record, my mouth drops open. “How did you find this?”
“I may have done a bit of sleuthing,” she says matter-of-factly, like she didn’t just blow my mind.
“I can’t wait to play this,” I mumble as I pull her into my side, kissing her hair. I’ve been looking for this for years. Tears prick at my eyes as I’m realizing how much my Dove sees me.
Feliz Nochebuena indeed.
Multicolored lights flicker on repeat as I sit on blankets in front of the Christmas tree, waiting for Paloma to come back into the room. She is heating her new waffle iron so we can get breakfast going after gifts. Waffles E. Benedict is snuggled deep into my lap, and I run my hand up and down his fur. I feel like I’ve won some type of award to know he feels comfortable cuddling with me.
Paloma’s gold-colored robe swishes around her as she comes back into the room. “You ready to open gifts?”
“Are you one of them?” I tease, reaching my hand out to unwrap the belt tied around her waist, saving the gifts under the tree for later. I can’t hold back my chuckle as Paloma swats me away. Waffles darts out of my lap at our playing, and I take advantage of it, pulling her lush body into my lap as I brush my lips across hers.
Turning in my lap, Paloma attempts to glare at me, but I reach around, tickling her sides until she’s taking in deep gulps of air. “Dios mio, Clinton!” she chokes out. “I can’t breathe.” She laughs, while also gulping air.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”
“Come on, I really want you to open your gift so we can get started with breakfast.” Paloma spins around, our legs are still hooked around one another’s, but she faces me and hands me a large gift. “This technically goes with one of your gifts from last night.”
Reaching under the tree, I yank out what I know is Waffles’s new cat bed. “Hand me that spray bottle please, Dove.” She grips the spray bottle next to us, and I quickly spray the liquid catnip onto the gift. The moment I do, the large fluff ball comes running. He leaps onto the wrapped-up bed, kicking and biting at it until there are shreds of paper covering the floor. “He’ll be at that for a while. Merry Christmas, Dove.” I hand her the small gift bag and watch as she opens her gift.
“Open yours too,” she says, not stopping as she pulls out the black velvet box. My heart beats loudly in my ears as I wait to see her reaction.
Opening the box, her eyes go wide as she takes in the intricately cut diamond earrings and matching tennis bracelet. She gazes at me with glassy eyes. “Clint, these are beautiful.”
“Would you put them on, baby?” She nods her head quickly as she takes them out of the box and slides the earrings in. I help her with her bracelet, and then it’s my turn. I unwrap the box like a child on, well, Christmas morning, and open the box. “You got me a Retrolife record player.”
“For here.” She tilts her head, and somehow my heart races. “I wanted you to be able to play your records here too. I figured it would look perfect on the console table over there.” Her eyes pointedly glance to the table she recently cleared off by the entrance of the hallway.
“You’re perfect.” Leaning toward her, I slide my hand to the back of her neck and pull her into me, capturing her lips with mine. “You are absolutely fucking perfect.”
A loud meow pulls us out of our moment. Looking over I find Waffles tangled in shreds of wrapping paper as he nuzzles into his new bed. “Is that a stick of butter?” Paloma laughs from behind me.
