Merry Christmas, loves!
Ok, this is a couple days late, but the intention was there.
Thank you again for the lovely reviews.
Morrowsong: Yes, nearing the end can be sad...
Nicyonce: Thank you, so much!
It was now the first week of December. Another few weeks and another year would be gone. For Kevin, it couldn't be over fast enough. This year had been the drizzling shits and he was just ready to get back to business.
He was mildly disappointed that he wasn't going to make it for the Royal Rumble next month. Not for lack of trying either. Contrary to what anyone would believe, he had been working his ass off. His body just wasn't ready. It happens like that sometimes and the last thing someone wants to do in this situation is rush the process.
On the bright side, he would get to return home to Florida next month. Birmingham was nice, but he was ready to be next to the beach again – even if it was during winter. No matter. It would warm up soon enough, once he was home. January was always the coldest month. That is when you were likely to see overnight freezes. But it never lasted, of course. Come late February to mid-March you'd be sweating your balls off already.
Right now the weather wasn't too bad here either, with temperatures in the sixties. It felt crisp but not too chilly. Perfect for taking an accompanied stroll downtown.
Kevin groused internally. He knew all of his contemplating the weather was just a distraction for the elephant in the room – or in this case, the elephant on the sidewalk. Kevin was going back to Florida next month. That begged the question, what would come of his and Carrie's…whatever the hell it was they had going on. He knew he should just break it off. Do it now so it won't be so awkward when he goes to leave. Tell her it was a nice fling, but it was time for them to go their separate ways. Carrie wasn't really the type to be all heartbroken anyway.
Perhaps it would be a mutual split? They had kept everything so casual, it was still difficult for Kevin to know where he stood at times. Or maybe he was putting too much emphasis on this whole ordeal?
"You seem distracted," Carrie turned a skeptical eye on him.
"Do I? Perhaps, I'm distracted thinking about that pussy I'm going to smash later," he leered down at her in a hushed tone.
Carrie sneered at him in return. "Ugh, do you always have to talk like that, Kevin?"
"Sure as shit do. How else will I know if you still find me fuckable, if you aren't telling me what a pig I am?" Kevin quipped.
"Well, you've got one thing right." The brunette rolled her eyes but tightened her arm around his elbow as they strolled down the sidewalk.
It was another of their frequent meetings. They were having a casual stroll downtown, taking in the holiday decorations, and were planning on having dinner at Osaka House. There were wreaths adorn the buildings, garlands wrapped around the street lamps and there was a gigantic tree in the center of the downtown area.
With Carrie's arm around Kevin's elbow, they walked leisurely down the bustling sidewalk. Kevin never did anything in a hurry, which irritated Carrie at times, but his stature and his stride made up for his otherwise languid pace.
Sometimes they would stop and look in the window of elegantly decorated stores. For the most part, Kevin wasn't too interested in anything they had seen. Yeah, some stuff looked nice, but if you've seen one Christmas tree, you've seen them all.
No, he wasn't a Scrooge or a Grinch, he just didn't like all the commercialism of the holidays. People losing their shit trying to have the best decorations just to show up the neighbors. Going into debt to buy a bunch of bullshit for their kids and other family members. Christmas was an alright holiday, but he would never mark out over it.
As they were passing a fairly nondescript window, Kevin's peripherals caught a flash of purple that made him halt immediately. The action was so abrupt it caused Carrie to lurch forward and nearly tumble over, had she not been holding on the Kevin's arm.
"What is it? Why did you just stop like that?" Carrie demanded with an exasperated look on her face. Glaring upwards she studied him in silence.
Kevin didn't answer her for several moments as he stared at the thing that had so bizarrely captured his attention. It took him a second to realize that he was standing in front of a music shop, gaping at a guitar. Of course, he wasn't musically inclined in the slightest – unless one counted singing atrociously off-key to Perry Como. That was not why it had caught his interest. It was a black guitar with a floral pattern of purple irises on it. An interesting looking handle was cut out of the body and the neck had a pattern of purple vines running the length of the fretboard.
In his mind's eye, he envisioned a petite girl with the same colored black and violet hair, lovingly bent over such a fine instrument as her slender fingers nimbly plucked out various chords and strummed to her heart's content.
Just then Carrie interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, did you hear me? What are you looking at? You don't play the guitar," Carrie huffed as if the very thought were the most preposterous thing in the world.
"Huh?" Kevin came back to himself. "I just," he paused giving one last furtive glance at the instrument before turning away. "I thought it was interesting, is all. Never seen one like that before. They keep making shit more elaborate. It's crazy."
Carrie raised an eyebrow at him. "I guess, but it's just a guitar," she shrugged with indifference as they began to walk down the sidewalk again.
It only took half a second for Carrie to change the subject, talking about some handbags that she saw in one of the other windows as they passed. Kevin was only half listening as his mind was still on the instrument that was now several feet behind. To his credit, he was rather adept at feigning interest at times – this was one of those times. However, by the time they had turned down the block where the restaurant was located, the thoughts of the guitar had left his mind nearly altogether.
"Our male solo is going to be Ethan Edwards. Congratulations, Ethan!" Mrs. Kaminski announced during choir practice one December afternoon.
The corners of Ethan's mouth pulled into a proud, yet surprisingly humble grin as there were some cheers, clapping and even a couple pats on the back.
Once the noise died down, Mrs. Kaminski continued, "And our female solo for this year's holiday pageant is," the teacher paused there for dramatic effect, "Heather Calaway!" she proclaimed.
Heather at the time, was staring down at her Converse. She was not anticipating her name being announced. She had never received any solos during her tenor in the choir.
Megan Johnson elbowed Heather gently. "That's you," she whispered hoarsely.
"Huh?" Heather murmured. It was then that she was able to compute the word that Mrs. Kaminski had just uttered. She, Heather Calaway was to be a solo in the holiday pageant? Heather leapt to her feet. "Th-thank you, ma'am. This is quite an honor!" Heather enthused. Her face was flush from the attention and congratulations from some of the other choir members.
"Of course, dear. You've earned it. You've shown a fair amount of improvement this year," Mrs. Kaminski beamed.
Heather nodded and took her seat again. Humbled by the praise and the opportunity, she couldn't even attempt to hide the grin on her face. That was until Heather looked to her left and witnessed Samantha Harrison glowering at her. Samantha had been the female solo for nearly every showcase since Freshman year. It was a position that Heather had hoped for desperately but was never granted. She could comprehend how Samantha may have felt dejected by Mrs. Kaminski appointing Heather to the role. By the same token, Heather held no desire to relinquish the position that she had always coveted. The raven-haired girl possessed a nominal amount of guilt over their instructor's decision, yet for once, she refused to allow it to derail her own elation.
Jeremiah was waiting outside the auditorium when Heather ran out and practically leaped into his arm. "Miah! Miah, you'll never predict what has happened! Mrs. Kaminski has selected me to perform the solo in the holiday pageant!" Heather squealed before Jeremiah had the opportunity to open his mouth.
"Hey, that's amazing, Snow! If anyone deserves it, it's you. I know you've been working extra hard this year. I'm so happy for you," Jeremiah exclaimed as he held fast to her and spun her around causing both of them to feel dizzy.
"I can't wait to inform my parents. I pray they will be exponentially proud of me," Heather effused.
"I'm sure they will be," Jeremiah provided as they walked toward the student parking lot.
He was certain her mom would be, to say the least. Her dad? That may be another matter entirely. But Jeremiah certainly wasn't going to be the one to crush his friend's spirit, not when she was glowing so beautifully and just bursting with joy. She had been too melancholy, especially over the past few months. Which is why he hoped for her sake that her old man came through and showed a shred of enthusiasm for his daughter's accomplishment.
When Heather arrived home, she had burst through the front door in much the same manner that she had exited the auditorium. This time she was calling out for her parents, a peculiar act indeed.
"We're in the kitchen, Heather," her mother called back to her.
Heather barreled into the kitchen and found them there; her mother preparing dinner and her father leaning over the counter.
"What's got you so excited?" Sara asked with a grin. She hadn't seen such an elated grin on her daughter's face in months.
"Yeah, girl. What's all the hullabaloo?" Mark asked as he straightened to his full stature.
Heather flushed, knowing her father likely thought she was behaving in a juvenile manner, but she could scarcely contain her emotions. "Well, Mrs. Kaminski has elected that I should perform the female solo in the Christmas Pageant this year!" Heather gushed.
"Sweetheart, that's wonderful!" Sara exclaimed as she put down the knife she was using to chop vegetables and pulled her daughter into a hug. "I know how much you've wanted a solo for so long. I'm so proud of you," she told her daughter in earnest.
Heather allowed herself to be drawn into her mother's embrace with little to no resistance. She privately acknowledged how pleasant it felt to receive the physical affection.
"Hey, girl. That's pretty great," Mark supplied with something almost akin to a smile. His daughter was leagues better than that twit who sounded like a cat in heat, he could at least confirm that. Mark pulled her into a hug of his own. It was awkward for the both of them, but Heather permitted herself to linger in his arms for a moment.
Caught off guard by the sudden affection (albeit noticeably rather forced) Heather gazed up at her father with wistful eyes. "Do you anticipate that you will have the time within your schedule to attend the pageant?" Heather inquired of him in a hopeful tone.
"When is it?" Mark asked, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember.
"December the 23rd. That is a Monday evening, at seven o'clock," Heather responded promptly.
When her father's regular austere appearance did not alter, Heather felt her heart sink with disappointment.
"I'm sorry, girl. Vince has me doin' a house show in Portland that night." Shit, he'd be lucky to make it home in time for Christmas.
Heather endeavored to maintain her stoic air. "I understand," she squeaked, attempting to keep her tears at bay.
"I'm real sorry, Heather. It's just I've taken so much time off already this year and Vince is starting to get pissy about it," Mark tried to apologize.
"I recognize that you have an extremely hectic and demanding schedule and that at times alterations are simply not feasible. I've been well aware of this since I was a child and I have always accepted it," Heather murmured as she dropped her gaze to her high tops. "If you'll excuse me, I have a number of assignments that I must begin," Heather barely glanced up as she forced out the words and then hastened from the room, dejected.
Mark heaved a sigh as he watched her go. Then his wife's glower caught his eye. The giant groaned, "What? What did I do now?"
Sara's eyes widened in disbelief. Did she really need to tell him where he fucked up? "It's a house show, Mark," she snapped. "It's not like it's a damn Pay-Per-View where the card has been hyped up for weeks. Yet, you can't manage to stop kissing McMahon's ass so you can be there for your daughter for one night?"
"I do not kiss Vince's ass, thank you!" Mark protested.
"Coulda fooled me," Sara muttered.
"What do you want me to do?" Mark asked through gritted teeth. "I've already missed so much time as it is. This is going to start affecting my salary."
"Oh, I know. The money. How stupid of me?" Sara groused throwing her hands up. Afterward, she picked up the knife again and continued chopping the vegetables for dinner. This time she did so in a most aggressive manner as the steel blade made a thumping sound against the cutting board.
"Now you're putting words in my mouth. I never called you stupid," Mark argued.
"No, but you are continuing to teach your daughter that money is more important than anything going on in her life," his wife contended.
Mark failed to see how that coincided with his previous statement. Then again, women were always bringing up crazy arguments that had nothing to do with anything else. Mark growled in frustration at the entire situation. "You knew when I broke in what the deal was with all of this. You knew I would be gone a lot and you know I would sometimes miss stuff like this. I don't see why it's all of a sudden a problem now," Mark asserted before he turned to stamp from the room.
"Well, of course, you don't," the blonde woman mumbled to no one but herself.
"This is an Ibanez JEM77P. The brand is Japanese. But this particular model is made in Indonesia," the shop clerk said as he retrieved the black and purple guitar from the display window. He brought it over and gently placed it on the glass countertop where a behemoth of a man stood on the other side.
Finding himself at the guitar shop where he had seen the gorgeous instrument the day before, Kevin had stepped inside to inquire about it. For a few moments, Kevin stared down as he took in the intricate details again.
As he did, the clerk seemed to be studying him. "If you don't mind me saying, you're a beast. You're like a blonde Peter Steel," the clerk told him.
Kevin had no idea who the fuck that was, but he figured it was supposed to be some type of compliment. Either way, he hadn't come in here for compliments. He had come to inquire about the guitar, which is why he ignored the man's statement and asked, "So is this thing any good?"
"Yeah, man. It's not your mainstream that the average Joe has heard of like a Fender or Gibson, but it's a solid guitar. You have a lot of versatility with the tremolo bridge here and the monkey grip. It has a solid body, basswood, and a maple neck. This model actually dates back to the 70s. You wanna give it a try? I have a couple others with a basic solid coloring."
"Do I look like I can play that damn thing?" Kevin finally pointed out while trying not to sound like a dick.
Getting the hint, the clerk shrugged and then said with surprising mirth, "Must be the hair."
The behemoth stared back at him and noting that he was bald, surmised that must be why the other man was so fixed on his hair. Kevin stared a moment longer, taking him in. He was on the shorter side, maybe five foot eight, give or take an inch. Yes, he was bald but sported a long auburn beard. His beer belly was covered by a faded Megadeth tee shirt.
"Here, I'll give you a little demo," the guy said as he took the guitar and plugged it up to an amp in the corner of the store. He played a few different riffs of varying styles.
Of course, Kevin was no expert, but he thought it sounded pretty damn good. It had a rich, bluesy quality that was nice and smooth.
"So, if you're not looking for yourself, I take it you're looking for a Christmas gift?" the man assumed as they returned to the counter.
"Something like that," Kevin confirmed.
The man nodded. "So what do you think?"
"I'll take it," Nash stated.
After the clerk talked him into purchasing a premium carrying case, the goliath knew he was going to have a mini stroke the next time he looked at his bank account. However, the instrument needed to be protected if it was going to be shipped all the way to Texas. For his own mental well-being, he pretended not to hear the price the mail clerk quoted him to ship the parcel as he shoved his credit card at the person. It was nearly half the price of the damn instrument itself, just to ship the fucking thing.
After the initial sticker shock had worn off, Kevin knew it wouldn't matter. What mattered was that his Little One had a lovely instrument that was as beautiful as she was. It would make gorgeous music straight from her divine soul. As soon as it caught his attention he knew it was the perfect gift, like it was made for her. He knew she was going to adore it. He remembered how he felt like an absolute stooge, giving her that bouquet of irises, but then he remembered the way she looked at them. They were something so simple, yet she reacted as if he had given her the moon on a string. She deserved that and so much more.
Unfortunately, what with the snail mail system of the United States Postal Service, it wouldn't make it in time for Christmas. Perhaps better, it would probably arrive right around her birthday. He wished he could be there to see her lovely countenance the first time her eyes fell on the exquisite instrument, but he was still biding his time.
With just a few weeks remaining, contemplations of his Little One's eighteenth birthday were consuming his thoughts more and more. Contrary to how his fling with Carrie may appear, he had never abandoned his design to have his Little One back in his arms someday. For now, the guitar was a token of his affection for her, albeit a clandestine one.
Heather stood backstage clad in a green velvet dress as she peered out from behind the curtain at the spectators who had begun to shuffle and file into the auditorium. It was the night of the Christmas Pageant and she was beside herself with anxiety for a multitude of reasons. Her emerald eyes scanned the audience in search of her family. Adam had also vowed to her that he would attend, although she didn't assume that he would be seated next to her family.
Caught unaware, Heather felt a playful pinch at her side that caused her to startle and give a yelp. Heart pounding, Heather whirled around to find Jeremiah grinning at her in his usual mischievous manner. Her face exploded in mortification when she noticed a few students who were milling about were staring at her. After a moment they went about themselves and Heather chided her friend, "You, Mr. De Sanchez are most wicked indeed."
"Ah, yes. The Prima Donna of tonight's showcase should not be distracted by such frivolity," Jeremiah teased her with a manner of speech that sounded posh and pompous.
Heather giggled at her friend's unendingly spirited disposition. "Ah, 'tis but a frivolous high school concert, my good sir," she returned the voice in kind and sensed a considerable portion of her anxiety quell as they both broke into another round of snickers.
Heather could not be more appreciative that her closest friend was backstage, set to perform on the same evening as herself. Jeremiah would be performing on the steel pan drum tonight. The week prior he had jokingly informed his father that all those years of racket were finally going to pay off tonight. Mr. De Sanchez, who could always be caught in a jovial mood, retorted that they had better or they would need to begin renting out his room.
For the briefest of moments, Heather took the man to be most serious as pure astonishment swam over her visage. Rolling her eyes at her husband, Mrs. De Sanchez instructed Heather to simply ignore that man as he was always spouting such ridiculous nonsense. It was then that Heather realized the man was jesting and she found herself to be quite gullible.
With the show commencing in a matter of minutes, Heather peeked through the curtain again. "There are you're parents and Jazzy," she chirped as she pointed to the center of the third row on the right side of the auditorium.
Jeremiah stuck his head a little further out of the curtain in hopes that his family would notice him. Jazzy had spotted them right away as Jeremiah pulled the curtain aside, exposing them a little more. Hand high in the air, Jazzy waved animatedly until Angelique scolded her about sitting down.
Heather grabbed the curtain from Jeremiah and shielded them from the spectators as though she had been the one to be scolded.
"I do not see my family," Heather lamented.
"There they are on the other side," Jeremiah pointed them out off to the left. "Guess they couldn't get seats together."
With eagerness, Heather peered out of the curtain once again. She could spy her mother, Reves, her brothers, her maternal grandparents, and even Adam! A host of family members were in attendance to witness her performance (however reluctant some may have been). This gave Heather joy beyond belief. For all of her delight, there was one individual whose absence caused a forlorn yearning within her. She knew that her father was not going to be in attendance. He had already informed her as much. Yet, she had still clung to a fool's hope that some form of miracle may well take place and she would spot him in the audience that night. Heather's gaze became downcast as she endeavored not to sulk before her friend.
"Places, everyone! The show is starting in two minutes," Mrs. Kaminski shouted over the buzzing and excited chatter backstage.
The choir scrambled, rushing to line up in the proper sequence as the band members readied their instruments.
Mrs. Kaminski opened that night's show with a speech about the spirit of the holidays and how the students of Waltrip had exemplified that with all the hard work they had put in this semester. She thanked the parents and family members of the choir and the band for all of the support and encouragement they had given their students. Her monologue concluded by introducing the choir and the band. With that, the night's production was underway.
They started with a collection of traditional carols from The Wassailing Song to the Twelve Days of Christmas. Mixed in were classic favorites such as Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree and even Last Christmas from Wham! At one point the band treated the audience to a slightly mellow rendition of Tran-Siberian Orchestra's Carol of the Bells.
The program was soon heading to a close. Following a couple more tunes, Heather would be performing her solo in a duet with Ethan, backed by the choir. They would be closing out the presentation with Happy Xmas (War is Over), originally sung by John Lennon, Yoko Ono, and the Harlem Community Choir.
Heather could feel herself deflate further as the presentation drew closer to the end. She put forth great effort to maintain her joyous and spirited demeanor but found it an arduous task. The one simple thing she had requested and it seemed her father neglected his attempt to make an effort in fulfilling her wish. She hadn't even created a Christmas list of trivial material items. She should have known better than to make such a request. As she had told him at the time, she had always been aware that his career came first. She and her siblings were taught that at a tremendously young age and that tenet had never changed.
Heather dropped her gaze, willing away the tears that threatened to escape. She couldn't go center left blubbering like a fool. She had been tormented enough as it were.
They were in the middle of The Little Drummer Boy, where Jeremiah and two other students were playing their steel pan drums. After that, there was only Silent Night and then the finale.
Lifting her head, Heather peered through the harsh stage lights out to the audience. She surveyed a figure moving through the spots that swam in her vision. She surmised it was someone that excused themself to the restroom. After another glance, her vision adjusted slightly and she noted that the individual was abnormally tall in stature. Yet, even with her obscured vision, and his distinguishing tattoos hidden beneath a respectable button-down, Heather could not mistake her father's auburn hair as he shuffled as discreetly as he could manage past other attendees to settle himself beside her mother.
A tiny keen escaping her throat, Heather neglected the lyrics as sobs that she had been withholding burst forth with abandon. Graciously not from the forlorn sense of despair, but from unadulterated joy! Her father had granted her one wish although he had made no such vow to her. Surely this was a true Christmas miracle! Heather knew she was naive and imprudent to believe so, but in that instant, she didn't care. Her father was in attendance and he was going to watch her perform her solo and that was the only thing that truly mattered to her in that moment.
A grin spread across her lovely countenance as she found her voice again with the last few lyrics. The sobbing did not cease. However, for the first time, she could admit with confidence that she had little care. As the song concluded, Heather beamed at Jeremiah. He had given such a superb performance.
Concern flickered over Jeremiah's features when he saw the waterworks in his friend's eyes, but he quickly returned the smile when he witnessed the elation on her face.
Following Silent Night, Heather and Ethan stepped down from the riser and took left center stage. They each had a microphone and suddenly the apprehension hit Heather like a tidal wave. The music began and Heather closed her eyes for a moment. She willed away her hesitancy, reminding herself that she could not afford to spoil tonight's performance with her diffidence.
Exhaling a deep breath, Heather opened up with the first verse, and then the choir came in behind her for the chorus and backing vocals. Ethan took the second and they shared the last. The song completed with the entire choir.
A very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over
If you want it
War is over
Now
Happy Christmas!
The conclusion was met with roaring applause and a standing ovation for Heather from her loved ones. Reves instantly leapt to her feet, followed closely by Adam. Her mother and grandparents (to her surprise) came next. Even Marcus and Steven reluctantly left their seats. Finally, her father stood to his imposing stature and Heather reconciled that her heart may very well burst with rapture. Heather glanced over at the De Sanchez family, who were on their feet as well. Although she knew they were primarily present in support of their son and brother, Heather couldn't help but surmise that some of their praise may be projected towards her as well.
Once the lights dimmed and the curtain fell shut, Jeremiah raced to Heather, gathering her up in his arms and whirling her around as he was prone to doing. He wanted to be the first to congratulate her on her outstanding performance.
"You did it, Snow! You were amazing. Just like I knew you'd be," Jeremiah applauded her.
"Me?" Heather questioned humbly. "You were extraordinary on the steel drum."
A few minutes later following admiration from Mrs. Kaminski for an outstanding job well done, the students dispersed to unite with their loved ones.
As her family came into view, Heather broke into a sprint. She allowed a furtive glance at the bouquet of flowers that her mother was holding and proceeded until she collided with her father's robust form, arms thrown around his waist. "Thank you," Heather whispered through her tears.
Mark (as well as everyone else) was taken aback. The giant froze momentarily, unsure of how to respond. "It's alright. Ya don't have to cry about it, girl," Mark quipped weakly as he tentatively patted her back.
Heather withdrew and Reves automatically yanked the smaller girl into her embrace. "What am I? Chopped liver?" the blonde demanded. "I told you, you could do it, you little dork. Kaminski better realize what she's been passing up all these years."
"Maybe that wasn't half bad," her brother Steven declared chagrinned. Marcus nodded in agreement.
"I thought you killed it," Adam who had been standing nearby chimed in. "In a good way," he added when Heather turned towards him with a quizzical countenance.
Heather's smile broadened and she took Adam's hand. "Thank you so much for attending," she said in earnest.
"I knew it would make you happy," Adam stated sheepishly as he shrugged, trying to feign indifference.
Adam was correct. It made her exponentially euphoric to have her friends and family's presence and support on a rare occasion such as this. It was more than she could have ever dared to hope for. As they were joined by the De Sanchez family, Heather gave herself over to the joyful bliss, an emotion that had been eluding her for quite some time.
As they tend to do, the holidays had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Heather had received a number of wonder presents including clothes, books, and CDs as she had every year. Although all of those superfluous items paled in comparison to the gift of her father taking time from his demanding and chaotic schedule to be present for her school pageant. In reality, it was the only gift that she had ever longed for, his acknowledgment and praise, however minuscule.
The date was January 2, 2003. In a few days, Winter break would cease and classes would resume. It was unfathomable that it would be Heather's last semester of high school. Before that, however, Heather would celebrate her eighteenth birthday, which was tomorrow, to be precise.
Heather was tangling with several mixed emotions about officially entering adulthood. She knew her birthday (which she never much cared for, in truth) was not until the next day, but she could not imagine that she would feel much differently than she did today. She would have liked to affirm that she hadn't felt any different than she had a year ago, but in truth so much had transpired within the last year, that Heather knew for certain she was not the same girl as before.
All the same, becoming an adult seemed frightening and filled with uncertainty. Would she be forced to relinquish things she loved, such as her stuffed animal collection and the soothing lilac bedspread for items that were sterile, even austere? Heather was loathed to confess that she was terrified of leaving her childhood behind. She recognized how impudent she was, but that did not quell the doubt brewing inside of her. Heather glanced at her sister, now age twenty, and recognized that Reves had yet to part with any of the seemingly immature things that she held dear. Therefore perhaps Heather was fretting for nothing.
Thus far it had been a rather indolent day. Heather was surprised that Reves was not away occupying her time with Erik. Reves was beside her on the plush couch working on a drawing while Heather read. An episode of Behind the Music was droning in the background. This episode covered a Hip-Hop artist, a genre neither sister particularly cared for.
Reves had set her sketchpad on the sofa and stood up. Heather glanced from her book to the image of a forlorn woman crying at a gravestone. Reves stretched, then picked up her glass. She was on her way to the kitchen to refill it when the doorbell rang. The unanticipated chime caused Heather to startle and Reves shook her head at the skittish girl.
"Who could that be? Are you expecting anyone to call?" Heather pondered.
"Maybe it's one of your boyfriends," Reves replied in a teasing manner. Heather narrowed her eyes and was about to protest when Reves continued with a melodramatic sigh, "I suppose I'll get it since I'm already up." The blonde rolled her eyes for greater effect.
Reves made her way from the living room, into the foyer and yanked open the front door. "Yes?" she half snarled as though it was the greatest inconvenience to have to answer the door.
A man in a mail carrier's uniform was standing on the front porch using one hand to balance an extremely large parcel upright while holding a clipboard in the other. "Got a package for Calaway," he stated.
"Okay?"
"Sign here," he demanded as he thrust the clipboard at her.
Reves looked the package up and down. It was two-thirds the height of either of them. "What the hell is it?" Reves questioned as she scribbled her signature on the paper.
If he had a dime for every time he was asked that question he could quit this crap job. "How should I know? I just deliver the stuff. I ain't Superman," he retorted, doling out the same attitude. He snatched the clipboard from the blonde woman and then tramped down the steps back to his truck.
"Thank you," Reves groused in a mocking tone. Propping the parcel against the outside of the house, Reves bent down to look at the address label. It was for Heather of all people. Reves supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. Tomorrow was her birthday after all. But what the hell was it? And who would send such an obnoxiously large package to her sister? Glancing at the label again, Reves realized that there was no return address. She pursed her lips. Typical. Maybe there was information, or at the very least a clue inside the package?
"HEEATTHHER!" Reves shouted for her sister.
"Rev, is everything alright?" Heather inquired as she hastened towards the front door a few moments later. A worrisome expression was etched on her features. "Goodness, what is that?" Heather questioned when her gaze fell on the enormous parcel.
"It's for your ass," Reves told her.
"I beg your pardon," Heather was mildly affronted and a puzzled expression washed over her mien.
"It's addressed to you, dork." Reves pointed at the sticker on the front.
"Me?" Heather enquired incredulously while Reves nodded. "Who on Earth would send me such a parcel?" Heather mused.
"Hell if I know. There's no return address," Reves stated with a shrug of her shoulders.
"That is extremely peculiar," Heather murmured.
"Well, don't just stand there gawking at it. Let's open it and see what's inside!" Reves commanded, "Come on, help me get it inside." Her curiosity piqued; she wanted to know what sort of gift would warrant such a large package.
Heather was of little assistance as Reves was already lugging the gigantic box through the doorway before she could even grab ahold. The two girls dragged it into the formal dining room and heaved it up onto the long table. It wasn't exactly heavy, just bulky and awkward.
Reves scurried to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a humongous chef's knife and a heavy-duty pair of kitchen shears.
Heather wasn't certain if such tools were necessary, but Reves began sawing away at the cardboard container. "Do be careful," Heather implored meekly. She was fearful Reves might injure herself. Or damage the contents inside. Heather merely stood there looking on as if the container didn't belong to her at all.
Once Reves had managed to pry open the flaps they pushed them out of the way and shoved aside mounds of packing peanuts to reveal a black hard-body guitar case.
"What?" Heather whispered; her eyebrows knit together in bewilderment.
"Don't just stand there like a braindead twit. Open it!" Reves ordered. She had taken a step back as she was restraining herself from flipping the latches and ripping open the lid of the case herself.
Heather stared at the expensive appearance of the case itself. Heather reasoned that if the case was so superior, what an exceptional instrument it must house! Cautiously, Heather located the latches unfastened them, and then tentatively began to lift the cover.
It took nearly all of Reves' willpower not to elbow the other girl out of the way, but soon the case was open and the secret treasure inside was revealed.
Astounded Heather gaped down at the instrument as her mouth fell open. Resting snug inside a case lined with deep purple velvet was the most immaculately gorgeous guitar Heather had ever laid eyes on. The body was black featuring a design of stunningly painted iris blooms in varying shades of purple. Climbing the entire length of the fretboard was a vine-like pattern intricately carved and painted with purple foliage. She had never glimpsed such an exquisite instrument in all of her life.
"Holy shit!" Reves expelled, just as astonished by the instrument as her sister. "Who is it from?" Reves interrogated, determined more than ever to discover the identity of the sender.
Heather could not speak. She could scarcely breathe as the air had escaped her lungs. Surely this was a mistake? There was no plausibility that such an immaculate gift was meant for her.
"Oh come on, is there a card? Anything!" Reves proceeded to sift through the crunching peanuts for a hint of evidence.
It was at that moment that Sara was passing through the room. "What is that?" Sara questioned as her eyes widened with bewilderment as she took in the oversized box on her dining room table. Sara approached the table to get a better look. She gawked down at the guitar in much the same manner as her daughters. "Oh, my God. Where did that come from?"
Heather finally found her voice again. "Dad didn't send it?" she queried in a hopeful tone. It was of course the most logical explanation. Her father would not be present for her birthday. In fact, he was not due home for another two weeks.
Sara raised an eyebrow. "He didn't mention anything about this to me," she stated skeptically. She lifted the flaps of the box to look at the outside.
"It is void of any sender information," Heather informed her mother.
"The postmark is from Birmingham," Sara announced, further confusion setting in.
Heather felt like a buffoon. Why had she not thought to check the postmark? "Birmingham…Alabama?" Heather posed in a nearly inaudible tone. Originally, there was Birmingham, England. Yet that was somehow even more improbable – if such a statement could be made at the moment.
"We don't know anyone in Birmingham," Sara reasoned. "And your dad hasn't been there in months." Sara was baffled thinking about if anyone they knew had recently moved out there.
Oh, certainly, they did know of someone in Birmingham! The answer suddenly struck Heather like a lightning bolt, the electricity crackling in her veins. A dizzying sensation swept over her and she was overwhelmed with the need to sit down, her knees weakening from the realization. Birmingham. That is what Rob, the trainer said Kevin was to be transported for surgery and rehabilitation. She hadn't the slightest inclination he was still located there.
Heather had heard nothing of him for months, drowning in the silence and loneliness he had left her in. And yet, he had remembered her birthday. The prospect was both exhilarating and dismaying. If he had remembered her address, or kept note of it somehow, why had he not attempted to contact her previously? Was she truly that insignificant to him? Heather knew she shouldn't be harboring these resentful emotions. Perhaps he felt that he couldn't contact her? Perhaps it was too risky? Heather chided herself, for her resentful emotions.
She gazed down at the guitar once more. It was truly a spectacular piece of craftsmanship. Heather dared to touch it for the first time as her fingers glided gently over the smooth lacquer veneer of the body. Irises. Like the ones on the bookmark she still used often. Like the lovely bouquet, Kevin had given her following her ankle injury. Kevin. The very sound of his name caused her heart to wrench. Heather's fingers traveled up to the strings. She stared at the beautiful inlay of the neck again. She gingerly plucked one of the strings and it made the faintest twang that summoned a smile to her lips. He could not have forgotten her to give such an exceptional and grandiose gift.
"What are you waiting for? Play it for real. Let's see what this baby can do!" Reves urged her sister almost as impatiently as she wanted to open the package.
Being drawn from her musings, Heather picked up the instrument with the utmost care, as though it were paper-thin and fragile. As though it would shatter along with all her hopes and dreams.
This time she gave the strings a firmer strum as she absorbed their rich sound. She wasn't accustomed to this variety of guitars as she had always played on acoustic, yet the mechanics were the same. Heather couldn't keep the grin off of her face or heart from feeling as though it would explode as she soaked up the sweet sound it produced.
"Well, I don't know who sent it to you," Sara said with her hands on her hips, "but it's a beautiful guitar nonetheless. I hope you enjoy it, Honey. Happy early birthday." Sara kissed the top of her daughter's head and walked out of the room.
"You're so lucky! You get all the cool shit. I'm jealous," Reves admitted.
Heather's grin faded slightly. "But I have done nothing. Are you truly displeased with me?" Heather inquired dreading the thought.
Reves scoffed at the other girl's naivety. "Of course not, dork."
Heather breathed a sigh of relief.
"Can I see it?" Reves asked.
"You are looking at it," Heather deadpanned.
"Oh, look who's learning to be sarcastic.
Heather surrendered it rather reluctantly, having to remind herself that it would return to her. She knew it was foolish, but it was one of the few items that she could cling to. One of the few reminders that he still esteemed her in some capacity. She yearned to reunite with the goliath, her gentle and loving goliath, but she had received the guitar instead. Regardless of how forlorn she may be, the guitar resembled a promise to her – a promise that would need to sustain her for the foreseeable future.
There are no actual Ibanez JEM guitars like the one described in this chapter, but they do have a few with some pretty rad designs.
Alright, last one for 2024. Man, I so wanted to make it to the finish line this year, but things don't work that way sometimes. See you in 2025 then!