The Gift

I didn't know it was possible for Christmas to be this desolate.

Last year we spent the holidays together in each other's arms, sipping on warm drinks and watching corny Christmas movies. Our celebrations may not have been extraordinary to outsiders, but to us they were favorite memories, the kind that'll stay with me until I die. I hope he feels the same way.

He disappeared in the springtime without a word. I was supposed to meet him at our favorite restaurant for dinner, but after an hour of waiting, it became painfully obvious that he wouldn't arrive. Irritated, I dialed his cell, convinced he'd forgotten our date; but I received no answer. Concern began to build as the minutes passed, so I gave up and left the restaurant for home.

The lights were still dark when I arrived. The house stood empty with a serenity that said it hadn't been disturbed since I'd left. He wasn't home; he hadn't even come back here from his office. Without much else to do, I went inside and waited.

It's now been several months and a few phone calls to hospitals and police stations later, but I'm still just waiting. Many friends and family members have encouraged me to give up hope, saying that with each passing day it's less likely he'll return; but aside from this lonely house, hope is all I have. Do they realize how cruel they sound telling me to simply cast him aside and forget? Don't they know it's unreasonable to ask this of me?

These thoughts always bring me to tears as does pondering his potential whereabouts and possible demise. I find myself going in circles, trying to pick up on any clues and behaviors I may have missed the last time I saw him.

The last time we were together...

He had just gotten home from work and seemed upset. I asked him what was wrong, but just received a kiss and "it's no big deal" in reply. At dinner he was distant; we ate without the usual conversation, and I was afraid I'd done something to upset him. When I asked if it was me, he smiled reassuringly and said, "You're probably the only thing right in my life now."

"That's no good," I responded. "Did something happen at work to get you down?"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it. I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms."

With that, we went to bed, him wrapped around my body, giving me a sense of security and love that only this man could bring. I remember believing that whatever was troubling him that day would certainly disappear the next. Nothing could be so evil as to hurt my sweet husband for such a long time.

He left for work the next morning while I still slept. I didn't even get to tell him goodbye.

I replay that night over and over in my head, trying to change the outcome; if I had thought to ask him to take a day off work, if I had insisted on knowing what was wrong with him, if I had woken up that morning to see him once more before he walked away forever, maybe things would have been different.

A loud hammering on the door startles me, breaking my concentration. For a second, my heart jumps. Maybe it's him!

I quickly catch myself and extinguish that thought. Every knock on the door brings the same hope, if only for a second, but he's never there. I grab my robe and slowly saunter to the entryway.

A peek though the peephole reveals a young man in his mid-twenties clothed in what appears to be a messenger's uniform. Funny. I didn't know anyone delivered on Christmas.

I open the door. Without so much as a glance at my face, the messenger hands me a small silver gift box wrapped with midnight blue ribbon and turns back toward the street, determined to leave my home without any interaction. I try calling after him, curious as to the gift's origin, but I'm ignored.

The chill of winter reddens my cheeks, so I take the box inside. There's no address on the exterior, nor is there a tag stating to whom it should be delivered. Nevertheless, the strange delivery person seemed certain it was mine, and in my heart I felt it was definitely meant for me.

Gently, I peel away the wrapping, pondering what surprises it could possibly have concealed inside. My mind's a flurry of excitement and confusion as I open the cardboard and withdraw the white tissue paper.

Beneath it all I find and immediately recognize the gift. His watch! The watch I gave him as a birthday gift the same year we met! He'd put it on that night and worn it ever since.

My heart races in panic, worried that this is a grim omen; a heartless blow to a lonely women delivered by her husband's captors. Then I find a folded piece of stationary that was under the watch. Though tears had begun to obscure my vision, I manage to make out the words:

My Dear Laura,

I'm sorry I cannot be with you this Christmas. I wish I could explain more, but believe me when I say there's a very good reason for my absence; and now I know that I'll be coming home soon. Laura, while I can't be there tonight, you're in my heart every minute. I'm thinking of you and loving you this Christmas. And I'll be back for my watch.

Love, Robert