Almost Perfect

Almost Perfect

By: Michell C. (Pen Name: LynnErin Faye)

     The engine of her hand-me-down SUV shuttered to silence as she cranked the ignition to the off position and removed the key with a deep sigh.  The holiday season had taken over the shopping mall parking lot and she knew the inside would be twice as bad. 

     "I can do this."  She whispered to herself. 

     Elbowing the door open, she slid out into the chill, afternoon air, tugging her coat tight around her.  She cursed the cold breeze along with the squeaky car door she had to slam three times before it latched, then scurried inside the building.

     Jingle Bell Rock and the smell of Cinnabon assaulted her senses as a seemingly unending wave of consumer bodies rolled toward her.  The mass of people looking for deals and just the right gift for that special someone; slightly harried, totally irritated while trying to feel that holiday spirit and failing.  All she needed was an overpriced coffee in her hand and she would fit right in.

     Maybe she couldn't do this.  Pulling her cell phone out of her bag, she brought up a voicemail and listened intently with her eyes closed.

    "Hey, Dear. It's me.  I got off work early so I'm going to make you dinner tonight.  How does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound?  Nah, I'm just joking.  Let's go out.  We haven't been out in a while...wherever you wanna go.  Think about it and I'll see you at home.  Love you.  ...Oh, can you grab dog food on your way home?  I took the bike to work and I'm not going to be able to cart that home.  Ok, see you soon.  Bye."

     She smiled at the sound of his sweet voice, always so thoughtful.  She had to find him the perfect gift, but he was just so hard to buy for.  For him, she could do this.  She would do this.  Squaring her shoulders, she set off into the chaos.

     Every store she entered seemed to have a whole lot of the same and nothing that was good enough for him.  Holiday sweaters, wallets, beard grooming kits, silly pajamas, it was ridiculous.  After over an hour, she was ready to throw in the towel.  Frustration and anxiety in equal parts coursed through her and she gritted her teeth against the need to scream.

     Suddenly, something truly unique caught her eye.

     On a shelf, tucked into a tight corner of the store that smelled like Nag Champa and patchouli, nearly hidden by tapestries and dragon shaped incense burners, sat an intricate wooden motorcycle no bigger than a can of soda. 

     Light, medium and dark wood all married together with a shine so deep, it seemed to glow from within.  The words 'Harley Davidson' were beautifully hand painted on the tiny gas tank.  Her soul smiled and she breathed a sigh of relief as she carefully lifted it from its resting place, the wood strangely warm on her fingertips. 

     Everything articulated smoothly, from the handlebars to the shocks and the brake and clutch levers, even the little wheels actually turned. 

     This. This was perfect.

     Clutching the model to her chest, she all but ran to the cashier and gingerly set the wooden motorcycle on the counter.  They exchanged pleasantries as she paid for the model and she quickly made her way out of the shop, leaving behind the smell of incense.  Weaving through the sea of shoppers, she dodged strollers, loose children screaming for gum balls and toys, giggling teenagers, frazzled parents groaning to each other about spending too much money, and silently slipped out of the mall doors, back into the bone chilling cold. 

     She hustled back to the old SUV, cursing again at the door that now refused her entrance.  After a solid whack, it popped open and she slid back inside, cranking the car back to life and blasting the heater.  Twisting around, she set the gift in a small box on the floor of the back seat, then with a deep breath, she put the SUV in gear and gratefully rumbled away from the madness that was The Mall.

     To the west, the winter sun steadily descended toward the horizon.  It set so early in December and her stomach clenched a bit as she thought of being late.  If she was lucky and didn't get stuck in the holiday traffic, she could make it before dark.

     Just as the sun was setting behind the tall conifers, she pulled off the boulevard and onto a tiny, single lane driveway that wound through dips and hills, her SUV rumbling and rattling along as if it were complaining about the cold as much as she did.  Finally, she let the poor thing roll to a stop.  The motor shut off with a grumble and she slid back out into the cold, cursing again at it and the door that wouldn't close.  Pulling her coat tight around her once more, she opened the back door and carefully lifted out the perfect gift along with a bouquet of winter flowers.

     Bumping the door closed with her hip, she carefully made her way over the perfectly manicured lawn, frosty grass crunching under her feet.  With every step, her heart beat faster and she found herself mumbling as she knelt next to the grave of her sweetheart.

     "Well, I didn't make it out to dinner, but I did find this."

     She gingerly placed the wooden motorcycle next to a sun-bleached pair of riding gloves and a helmet.  The flowers followed, but these she laid at the foot of the headstone. 

     Sitting cross legged on the frosty ground, she pulled a cold grilled cheese sandwich and a thermos of warm tomato soup out of her bag. 

     Her jacket...his jacket, three sizes too big, fell open and she pulled it close around her, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne.  Tonight, they would dine on nothing but the best comfort food around.

     Swallowing a lump in her throat and wiping chilly tears from her eyes, she smiled at his name in stone and played his voicemail again.