Ben had never invited me over to his house before. He always came over to mine, for obvious reasons.
He had good taste though. The rooms I could see were decorated with rich browns and aged wood accents. I could picture him stretched out on the chunky leather couch, watching something on his massive TV mounted to the wall. There was a small tree set on an end table with a few gifts wrapped professionally beneath. The only thing I could find fault with was that his beautiful house felt a little empty. It was such a big space for only him.
“I like your house better.” His low voice came from behind me. His fingers landed on my shoulders and tugged at my coat. I let him help me out of it.
“Yours is gorgeous,” I told him a little breathlessly. The pads of his fingers trailed down my arms as he removed my coat. I slipped out of my boots quickly to put space between us.
“Mine is lonely,” he said. “Yours is full of life.”
I spun around to face him. I would have never described my house like that. To me, my house felt full of death. Full of ghosts. Full of memories that ate at me day and night.
“Why did you buy such a big house for only you?” Changing the subject seemed like the wisest decision.
He took a step towards me and I took a quick one back. He smiled a little, amused with my jumpy behavior.
I couldn’t help it! This was the first time we had ever been alone, truly alone. The kids weren’t asleep in the other room or running around at our feet. It was just he and I and this great big house.
Nerves skittered over my skin and pooled in my stomach. I didn’t know how to handle all of these feelings and sensations, especially because my reaction seemed so silly.
Ben saw me as a friend, not anything more, but not anything less either.
“Well, I didn’t think I would always be the only one living in it,” he admitted.
“Oh.” I sidestepped his couch and looked into the kitchen. Sure enough, a box of Christmas Pop-Tarts sat on the counter. “Mrs. Tyler and the kids, you mean?”
I turned back to see him shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe when I first bought it, I thought that. But, I’m not sure this is the right place to raise a family anymore.”
“You think you’d move?” I hated the sinking feeling that washed over me, a heavy wave that threatened to drag me under a new surface of sadness.
He watched me carefully, when he said, “I would move for the right woman.”
His words hurt in a way I never expected them to. Talking about Ben finding the woman he wanted to marry was one thing, but facing the reality that I could lose him completely someday had never occurred to me. My heart squeezed with confusion and resistance.
I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to keep Ben to myself. Selfishly, I didn’t care about his happiness or desire to get married and have kids. I wanted him always, just like we were.
“Liz, I… I want to… I have your gift.” He walked over to the small tree and pulled a perfectly wrapped present from beneath it.
An ivory card sat against the red plaid paper and gold bow. My name was written in his slender scrawl.
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” I looked up at him with shaking hands, almost too afraid to see what he had thought to buy me.
It didn’t feel like a scarf.
“How about I watch you open it instead.”
“I didn’t buy you anything, Ben. I’m so sorry; I barely got the shopping done for my kids-”
“Liz,” he said in a soft voice, cutting off my rambling. His warm hand wrapped around my trembling one. “I never expected one in return. I bought this because it reminded me of you. You’ve become someone that means a lot to me and I wanted to… to show you how much I care for you.”
I stared at the prettily wrapped present in my hands and debated handing it back to him. I didn’t want to know how much he cared for me.
“It’s not going to bite,” he nudged gently.
I looked up into his dark brown eyes and it hit me. I might be afraid of what this present represented on his side, but I would open it up anyway because I cared for him. I couldn’t hurt him by refusing this. I wouldn’t hurt him.
I carefully untied the bow and slid my finger beneath the seam of the paper. He took it from me so I could hold a black box without a label.
My heart jumped to my throat. I could only imagine one kind of gift in a box like this and I didn’t want it. I didn’t want jewelry from Ben. I didn’t know what jewelry from Ben even meant!
I swallowed my fear and opened the box. I gasped at the thoughtfulness behind this surprise. Relief rushed over me and I nearly stumbled from the force of it.
In the box, wrapped in shiny red tissue paper, sat a snowflake ornament made out of wine corks. A shimmery blue ribbon had been fastened to the outer edge and gave it some color.
It was a perfect gift. I loved it.
“I love it,” I told him on a whisper. I picked it up and held it delicately in my hands.
“They’re ours.”
I looked up at him, confused by what he meant. He stared at me intently, watching my reaction. “What do you mean?”
“It was an accident at first. I would put the corks in my pocket after I opened a bottle at your house and I never seemed to get them in the trash. They piled up on my dresser. Then I saw a little knickknack a coworker had bought, made out of corks. She told me she bought it at a craft fair. I tracked down the person that made them and had her make this for you.”
Awe and pleasant surprise warmed me all over. “You went to a lot of work.”
“I like how it turned out.” He reached for it, running his hands over the corks.
“We drink a lot of wine.”
He grinned at me. “We don’t always finish the bottle in one night.” He took a step closer to me, closing that confusing space that separated us. “These corks represent a lot of good times. It’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other a few months.”