Short story - the Gift

The Gift

The paper lies crumpled on shining coils of ribbon. Ben holds the cardboard box. They only remembered to wrap it thirty seconds ago. It’s the wrong shaped box.

The right box has already been opened, by his sister. She’s playing with her new remote-control robot dog and it’s wheeling around bumping into the tree and fallen baubles and discarded gift wrap. The exact model he has been asking about, for months. He hasn’t asked for anything else. It’s got big googly eyes and cute little paws and it makes real dog noises. Its ears look soft and silky, even if they’re just plastic. It’s programmed to need a feed and a wee and to bounce up as if it wants to play. Just like a real puppy.

Ben’s throat aches. There is no way the box on his lap could hold a toy like that for him.

His sister is cuddling the robot and its little soft tongue licks her arm. She’ll bring it on walks and she’ll program it to respond to voice commands. She’ll take it to bed with all her other toys, and it will make happy snuffly noises until she soothes it to sleep.

He has dreamed about doing the same for a remote-control dog of his own for months.

“Do you want a turn?” she says, offering the control with a sympathetic smile.

He balances the unwanted box on his knees and takes the transmitter to steer the dog around the room. The robot wags its tail at him.

If he plays too much with it, he’ll only feel worse. He hands the transmitter back, thanks her for the turn. But he won’t touch it again.

He has some good presents. He has a decent watch. He has a new t-shirt and a water pistol, but there are no unopened presents left. None but the wrong-shaped box, on his lap.

Ben’s eyes are stinging.

He can’t cry. His parents are pointing the camera at him, laughing delightedly. “Open it, darling,” they say, but this gift was an afterthought. He saw them spring up and dash into the laundry, heard his mother say “Quick, pass me the wrapping paper,” heard his father’s chuckle. They came out big with smiles, all over this last Christmas gift. Which they almost forgot.

“Open it! Open it!” they chant. “Don’t shake it, love.” Just like they would have said, if it had been the right present.

He takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

A weight shifts inside the box.

The lid bursts open.

Ben’s heart leaps.

The puppy rockets into his face, wriggling for joy, and showers him with kisses.