Page 49 of Pining for You

Cash sticks his nose right into the jar. “Ohhh. That’s the one. You really are the best gift giver, B. You know everyone so well.”

I don’t admit that I don’t feel that way this year, or that I wish knew what I could do for him. I can’t help with Bev, or if he has concerns about his grades. But Izaac… maybe I can do something there.

He carefully returns the other candles to where he found them, and an idea dawns on me.

“Hey, those wallets back there… I know Izaac said no spending, but what if he were the beneficiary? Those had his name written all over them,” I say. “In fact, I think you can actually monogram them…”

“Oh, we decided not to do gifts this year,” Cash says.

“Seriously?” That is not like these two, who jump at every chance to be theatrical or grand, always trying to outdo each other.

Cash shrugs. “Money’s a thing, ya know?”

“Right, of course,” I say, but is it that much of a thing for them that they’d take Christmas gifts off the table?

I chew my lip and run a rapid internal brainstorm session.

“Well, what about something that wouldn’t cost anything? I mean, you and Izaac have both been so busy lately, what if you surprised him with a date recreation for Christmas? Like, something from when you guys first started dating—maybe the Lady and the Tramp date?”

Sometimes a reminder of the good old days is all it takes to inspire new happy memories.

“B, I love you and your nostalgia, but I want to look forward a little bit more this year.”

“Right,” I say, but he doesn’t elaborate, and it feels like yet another example of me being behind on everything.

“But! Your gifting skill and grand gesture instinct is just one of the many reasons Eve will be so lucky to have you.”

My heart warms with appreciation, and I wish I could make him feel better too.

“Well, anyway, just gonna pay for this,” he says, and heads off toward the registers as a couple strides up between us, debating whether tapers or floating candles are more the vibe for their co-op’s holiday open house.

I wait for a moment and think about what I would get Eve, if Eve were mine, and as I daydream, I migrate to the next stall over, where a dreadlocked white woman with quarter-sized wooden ear gauges is sitting behind a table, repairing a necklace with a small handheld welder. It’s sending tiny sparks into the air—perfect B-roll.

I step closer and train my lens on her hands, in awe of the intricate details I see in my viewfinder. But just as I’m zooming in closer, she looks up at me, and her face twists in anger.

“Hey!” she shouts, and reaches up to push my camera away.

“Whoa!” I shout back, because I’m so startled that I almost drop it.

“This isn’t your personal Instagram live channel,” she snarls, standing now. “Get outta here!”

“Jeez, sorry,” I sputter, stumbling back.

A small crowd has formed, so I turn, eager to get away as fast as possible. It’s not easy, given the congestion of the aisles, and I hear her talking about me to another customer.

“I don’t mean to be rude, ya know, but these kids come here and take videos for their TikTok or whatever and don’t buy a single thing! It’s just all so they can build their brand, or whatever…”

“Ugh. Gross,” the other person says.

That’s not at all what I was trying to do with my camera, but I wouldn’t even know how to explain myself if I tried: I’m sorry but actually I was thinking your work might be proof that humans are magic?

She probably wouldn’t buy that either.

I finally make it to the aisle but a small woman with thick black glasses and super short bangs is standing there, blocking my way, and as I try to pass, she sticks out a tiny plastic spoon, nearly poking me in the face with it.

“Sample?” she says, offering something blue and vaguely gelatinous. “Blueberry basil, with wild fruit from my upstate farm, and rare opal basil.”

“I, uh.” I just stare at her because I don’t have a clue whether I’m supposed to eat it or rub it on my skin, and I really don’t want to get blasted again.