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Out of all my classes, only two students failed. And they were the ones with the worst attendance, so I didn’t feel bad about them. Overall, I was overjoyed with how my students performed in my classes. Dean Armbruster even commented on the success at the faculty Christmas party.
Brody and I celebrated Christmas together on the twenty-third. His apartment was fragrant with spices from the mulled wine simmering on the stove. Holly and tinsel were strewn around the house decoratively. Even Luna was looking festive with a Christmas bow tied around her neck, although she rolled around on the ground and pawed at it.
“You first,” Brody said when we exchanged gifts. He shoved a big box in my arms. “Open it.”
“Open it?” I asked. “I didn’t know that’s what you’re supposed to do with presents. I was going to sit here staring at it for the rest of the night.”
Brody grinned at me. “All right, if you want to be a Grinch then I can take it back…”
I laughed and held the gift away from his grasping fingers. Then I tore away the football-themed wrapping paper and opened the box. Inside, protected with lengths of fine tissue paper, was a leather messenger bag. The leather was soft and supple to the touch, and my initials were stamped into the front.
“A great professor needs a great bag,” Brody explained. “Not that janky-ass backpack you’ve been lugging around.”
“Brody, this is incredible.” I held it up and admired the brass buckles and interior. It had partitions inside for my laptop and papers. It was perfect.
And it was also expensive.
I looked at the small box containing my gift to Brody. “Maybe I should get you something else…”
Brody snatched it out of my hand. “What? Why? I don’t care what it is, as long as it came from you.”
I cringed as he opened the box and removed the contents. It was also made of leather, although it was a cheaper leather used for lanyards. It was a bracelet made from three leather straps woven together. On one side were three tiles: a B, a heart, and a T.
“I used Scrabble tiles for the letters because that’s kind of like trivia, I guess,” I said. “And I painted the heart on the blank tile. It’s a wristband for you to wear. To remind you that I’m always with you, even when we can’t be together publicly.” I sighed. “It’s dumb, I know…”
Brody held the wristband reverently, and his eyes almost shimmered. “You kidding, Foxy? I fucking love it!”
He slipped the wristband over his hand and held it up. It fit perfectly.
“I don’t know if you even want to wear something like that…” I said.
“I’ve never been the kind of guy to wear jewelry. Not like Kincaid with his chains and rings and whatnot. But that’s because I never had a good reason to wear them. But this? This is one hell of a good reason.”
“Are you sure it’s not dumb?” I asked. “It was really cheap.”
Brody squeezed my knee and grinned. “Foxy, let me tell you somethin’. I can buy just about anything I want. Not tryin’ to brag, just being honest. If you went out and blew your whole paycheck on a fancy gift, well, I would’ve felt bad about it. But this?” He held up his wrist. “Something that has real meaning and love behind it? Hell, it’s worth more than a million bucks to me.”
Two months together wasn’t very long, but it was long enough that I knew he wasn’t just saying that to make me feel better. He meant every word.
“I love…”
I started to say I love you. The words came automatically from deep within my soul. But I stopped myself, because two months still felt like too little time together for such a big step. Brody was watching me carefully, waiting for me to go on.
“I love my bag. And I’m glad you love the wristband.”
Brody cradled my face in both of his hands and kissed me, but I think he knew what I almost said.
*
I flew back to California the next day. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed home until I was there, surrounded by my parents in the house I grew up in. It made being away from Brody tolerable in a way that it wouldn’t have been if I was back in Salt Lake City alone.
We ate Christmas supper at three, and finished just in time to watch the second half of the Stallions game against the Cincinnati Bengals. Dad brought me a glass of wine and joined me on the couch, hugging me close.
“Out of all the teams to cheer for,” he said in a lecturing fatherly tone, “you had to pick one of the Raiders’ rivals.”
“It’s tough not to be a fan when I teach in the same city,” I pointed out. “If anything, I don’t know how you still root for the Raiders after they abandoned Oakland for Las Vegas.”
“Not the first time they’ve moved,” my dad said sadly. “And maybe it won’t be the last. I have Raider blood in these veins. Your job at the university is going well, then?”
