The Gift

Eileen Galvin was happy.

It was Saturday afternoon, and her mother was taking her out for ice cream. But her mother, bless her heart, was a little forgetful. Leading her daughter by the hand, she walked all the way to the main doors of the empty lobby before she realized that she didn't have her purse.

"I'll be right back," she promised before she dashed back up the stairs.

Eileen stood near the front desk and waited. She was anxious to get to the ice cream parlor, but she had her favorite toy with her, so she didn't really mind waiting. She hummed quietly to herself as she rocked the small doll in her arms.

Several minutes went by before she realized that she wasn't alone. There was a boy standing in the corner, slowly shifting from one foot to the other and back again. He looked like he was waiting for something.

Eileen didn't recognize him, but she had never been afraid of strangers. And her mother wasn't back yet, so she walked over to the boy with a smile.

"Hi," she said cheerfully. "Do you live here?"

The boy lifted his head and looked surprised, like he wasn't expecting anyone to speak to him. "No," he murmured, dropping his eyes and fidgeting with the hem of his striped shirt.

"Oh. Are you visiting someone?"

The boy slowly shook his head. "I tried visiting my mom, but I was told to stay away. They don't want me going upstairs anymore."

Eileen's smile faded. Why wouldn't they let him see his mom? And if he didn't live here with her, who was taking care of him?

"Do you live with your dad?" she asked, at length.

The response was another slow head shake. "No...I don't think I even have a dad."

Eileen bit her lip as she surveyed the boy sadly. He was a little older than she was, and he had the unhappiest expression she had ever seen.

"I don't have a dad, either," she ventured. "He died before I was born."

But she had her mom, her kind, sweet, caring mom. She forgot things sometimes, but she always remembered what was important, like her daughter's favorite flavor of ice cream. On rainy days, she always baked cookies, and would read to her on stormy nights until she fell asleep.

Eileen was positive she had the nicest mom in the world. Sometimes she wondered what it was like to have a dad, but she couldn't imagine it being any nicer that it was right now. Her life was perfect just the way it was.

Still fidgeting with his shirt, the boy turned to go. "I better not stay," he told her, so quietly she could barely hear. "The people upstairs will get mad if they see me."

Eileen stepped out of his way and watched as he walked slowly to the set of double doors. He didn't cry or throw a fit. It almost looked like he was used to leaving, without seeing his mother first. Eileen knew if she had been in his place, she would have thrown herself on the floor and kicked and screamed until the stubborn adults gave her what she wanted.

But the boy in the striped shirt didn't look like he had that kind of energy, and he walked like he was stepping through a dream. As he drew near the doors, she wondered where he was going, and if any friends were there to comfort him when he arrived.

"Wait!"

Surprised, the boy turned around. Eileen rushed forward and shoved her doll into his hands.

"I want you to have this," she said, speaking in a rush so she couldn't change her mind. "She's my best friend, but you look like you need her more than I do."

The doll was worn from so much playing and so many hugs, but she could tell by the way he looked at it that the boy knew it was a special doll. It had been a gift from her dad, one that he bought and set aside as he waited for her to be born. It was very important to her, but...

She had her mom, so she didn't really need the doll. Her mother would probably be upset, but Eileen had already thought of that. Her mother wasn't the only one who could forget things.

Just then her mother came rushing down the stairs, purse in hand and a smile on her face. "Ready?"

Eileen nodded and took her hand. As her mother led her through the doors, she glanced back at the boy, who was still staring down at the doll. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

The boy lifted his head as the doors were closing, his eyes focused on one thing.

The tightly clasped hands, one large, one small. The doors clicked closed, shutting out the image. Now alone, the boy looked down at his gift again, and a single thought entered his mind.

"I think," he murmured aloud, "someone that nice would make a good mom."

Author's note: I'm not sure if Eileen spent her childhood in the same apartment building, but I can't imagine this exchange happening anywhere else, so...there you go. Comments are appreciated.