He went to the mall on a last-minute shopping trip before Christmas and found himself in the bookstore. She used to drag him in here, usually at the end of their shopping trips when his feet hurt and he was getting cranky. Although, now that he was keeping his eyes open for such things, he remembered that his feet used to hurt whenever they entered a store that she had chosen.
He walked past the magazine racks where he used to wait for her. He used to sit there flipping through magazines like the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated until she was done looking at whatever she'd come in for. Way back in the beginning, she used to tell him what section she'd be in, but soon enough she'd stopped even doing that. One afternoon he had came upstairs to pick her up after work and had interrupted her in the middle of telling Jim about the books she had seen at the mall the night before, and all the books she would have bought if money were no object. He remembered he had been glad she told Jim these things now instead of yapping to him about them like she used to. He couldn't remember what books she wanted. It hadn't seemed important then.
But now, on purpose, he walked into a bookstore, walked past the magazine racks, and tried to find her here, somewhere in these rows of books, just one more place he'd lost her over the last three years. He looked for her, moving slowly and lingering over books that seemed likely, and he found her in Cooking, History, Romance, Travel, Mystery, Inspiration. And then, with his mind full of her in all the ways he'd forgotten her, he turned and there she was, her passion, in Art.
So he bought it, and he wrapped it in awkward folds and too many pieces of tape, and he gave it to her at the office Christmas party. Her eyes lit up as she turned the pages, captivated. She threw an arm around him impulsively and hugged him.
"I don't have anything for you," she said.
He thought of saying that that wasn't true, that he had been to the bookstore and had learned again just how much she had for him. But he was done with throwing fits and rushing her out.
"Merry Christmas, Pam," he said.