Page 8 of December Wishes
“That’s seriously amazing! Print it out so we can frame it!” Heaven motioned to the section of the café wall reserved for local uplifting news.
Although Salama was instantly touched by the offer, she didn’t hesitate to say, “Babe, it’s like a thousand words long. That would take up half the wall.”
“A thousand words? How many pages is that? Make the text smaller. It will work!”
“Nobody would be able to read it if I made the text small enough to fit on one ‘page’.” How many pages? Seriously? Salama adored her girlfriend, but a whole year of dating hadn’t been enough to drill into Heaven’s head that writers didn’t talk in terms of page counts. Especially when it came to online content writing.
But that was okay. Heaven didn’tneedto know those things. That was Salama’s court. All Heaven had to do was be supportive and occasionally proofread something before Salama submitted an article to her editors.
“You should go have a seat,” Heaven said. “I’ll bring you a new tea we got in.”
“Oh, the teas are in?”
“Yup! You know, that new teashop opening up the street really got me thinking about shaking things up around here. Of course, you’re my local tea connoisseur, so I’m looking forward to your verdicts before I decide which ones to stick with.”
Salama found her favorite corner seat, although she always felt weird now that she was dating the owner of the establishment. This was a small town, after all, and her differences made her stick out even if people didn’t mind them. Every single person walking through the door saw the “gal in the headscarf” and knew she was Heaven’s girlfriend. Taking up space without having paid for it probably. Everyone told Salama that it was the nature of small town businesses, but she could never shake the feeling that people judged her.
Oh, well! She was too excited about her news to feel bad now.
Salama put down her phone when Heaven popped out of the kitchen with a cup of tea that smelled of raspberries. A plate containing a small lemon bar accompanied the teacup, but it was the cutely wrapped present that caught Salama off guard.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Heaven sat down across from her. “An early Christmas present.”
“Thought I told you I didn’t mind celebrating Christmas with you.” Not like Salama was a stranger to Christmas. She may have grown up Muslim, but she had plenty of friends, especially in college, who put up trees and exchanged gifts. She may have participated a time or two! “You think I haven’t grown up in America and become accustomed to practically having that whole week off?”
Heaven blew a tuft of curly hair out of her face. “EarlyChristmas present. It means I give you one before Christmas. Like a teaser.”
“Why now?”
“Hon, why the hell not? You shared some really big and exciting news with me. I think I have every right to choose this moment to give you a related gift!”
“Related, huh? This gets curiouser.”
“Would you open it, already?”
Before she had the chance to indulge in her goodies, Salama untied the bow around the top of her present and peeked into the green wrapping paper. A black box lurked beneath. Not enough for her to go on, but she would figure it out soon enough.
“Oh, my God.” Heaven sighed. “You’re really drawing this out, huh? You know I can’t take too long of a break, right, hon?”
“Torturing you is part of the fun.” Salama shook the box next to her ear. “I think that might be the real gift you’ve given me right now.”
“For real. Open it, already!”
Salama gave in, tearing apart the paper and enjoying the length and heft of the black box in her hand. Only a few pieces of tape separated her from Christmas destiny. When she ran her thumbnail between two pieces, the others gave way with a mere tug of the box’s lid.
She pushed aside a layer of cloth. Her present awaited her.
It was one of those kitschy brown nameplates that went on top of an important person’s desk. Only instead of saying “Manager” or “Salama Amari,” it quaintly said, “Badass Writer.”
“Don’t tell me you can’t have cussing on your desk.” Heaven smiled. “I hear you say it allll the time.”
“Only because you’re a terrible influence.” Salama held the nameplate closer to her face. “Did you find this? Or did you have it made?”
“I had it made. I mean, it came from a website that does nothing but engraving plain stuff like that, but the ad I clicked on was using ‘Badass Musician’ as an example and it gave me the idea.” Was that blush touching Heaven’s cheeks? “Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, you’re a badass writer, and this must be acknowledged.”
Salama held the nameplate up next to her face. “Where am I supposed to put this, huh? I don’t have an office.” She had a small table in her apartment, and this thing would get knocked over so many times…
