Page 60 of Better Than Gelato
“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to tell us about her boyfriend.” My dad draws out the last word in a sing-song voice.
“I love you. I’ll email you some more photos soon.”
“We love you too,” my mom says. “Dad put a little money in your bank account so you can buy something special from that fancy market you told me about.”
“Thanks, Mom. You guys are the greatest.”
For just a beat after I hang up I feel a wave of homesickness. I shake it off and head to the bathroom. When I come out, I hear Jake in the kitchen humming and doing the dishes.
“Merry Christmas!” I yell and jump into his arms.
“Merry Christmas!” he yells back and hugs me tight. Then his mouth meets mine and my eyes close. There is nothing like this feeling. Chemistry and comfort. Safety and excitement. All mixed in one.
“So what would you like to do today?” I ask him between kisses.
“I’m already doing it.”
I grin like an idiot. I feel the same way.
We finish cleaning up from last night, then make pancakes and eggs for breakfast. Afterward, we snuggle on the couch and take turns telling each other about our best and worst Christmases.
“All I wanted was my own mummy,” Jake says. “I was sure I could use magic to bring it back to life. But no. I got roller blades.”
I tell him about the Christmas I got my first camera, a used one my dad got from one of our dry-cleaning customers.
“I took approximately three thousand pictures the first week. Most of them were terrible and out of focus. But I still loved it.”
“I can see how happy it makes you. I was so anxious the whole time you were dangling from that tree branch, but you had a huge smile on your face.”
I’d forgotten about climbing that tree on our first date.I’m such a dork.
“How about your worst Christmas?” Jake asks.
My mind flashes to Christmas Eve when I was nine. My parents standing in their bedroom. My dad’s arms covered in bandages.
“Hey, you okay?” Jake asks.
“Yeah, fine. Roller blades. The year I got roller blades. That was the worst.”
Jake looks at me funny. “That’s the thing I just said.”
“Oh.”Dang. “I mean a music box. It broke. Hey, are you ready for your Christmas gift?”
I can tell that Jake wants to ask me some follow-up questions, but I don’t let him. I jump up and head to my room. I take a deep breath and then another one until my heart slows.
I pull his gift from the top shelf of my closet and fix the bow because it’s gotten all squashed. When I hand it to him, Jake carefully unpeels the wrapping paper. I watch his face light up, and my heart lights up too.
It’s a picture of us. One I took on the paddle boat. I’m looking slightly left and laughing, and Jake is looking right at me, smiling. I made it black and white because everything looks cooler in black and white. The photograph is the back wall of a shadow box, with a little glass door you can unlatch. Inside are things from our time together.
“We make a good-looking couple,” Jake says. “Tell me about these things inside.” He opens the latch and starts pulling things out.
“That’s a pebble from the shore of that lake with the boats. This is my ticket stub from the Fiero di Sapori. This is a coaster from Calypso. Here’s a leaf from that park we broke into.”
“What’s this?” Jake asks, picking up a tiny glass bottle with liquid inside.
“That was the hardest one to get. I went back to the Navigli Canals and got some water from the canal.”
“Wow. That was a lot of effort for my Christmas gift.”
