- In which the apathetic boy is gifted something he will soon cherish -
Billions of distant starlight stretching out into the unfathomable expanse of the universe, with twinkling comets like the frosted tip of an icicle, and different planets that showered fire instead of rain. All was far beyond imagination, with the final frontier offering up the gift of uncharted galaxies that seemed to expand towards infinity, and there were no rules except for the ones you made for yourself.
Craig was there in all that everything, feeling as if he could reach towards it all with outstretched arms, with a space helmet crafted from caring hands, and a big wide smile that didn't matter how much his crooked teeth showed, because even in the darkness of space, he finally felt free, accepted for all he was and could be.
Yet when he eventually opened his eyes to the sound of his door bursting open, it hitting thickly against the doorstopper, he realized that he was still within the whitely metallic confines of the space station; in his own room in his own bed, with only the twinkling stars and planets being seen from out his window.
Well, there goes the respect of knocking on someone's door.
"Craig! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" His younger cousin cheers, bouncing onto the bed with her twin brother eagerly.
Craig groaned incomprehensibly into his pillow, hoping beyond hope that the irritable response would be enough to signal that he was in fact not ready to wake up from unconsciousness. He was already pulling up the covers as some sort of way to shield himself from the torment of younger family members.
The twins were laughing and giggling much to the older teens demise, and it didn't take long for the two of them to completely rip off any remaining blankets from the bed as Craig was desperately urging them to cease and grant him a mere five more minutes of solitude. However, though the plea was delivered with a touch of vulnerability, it served only to render him more exposed and chilled in the space of his own room. When he sat up with yet another groan, his cousins bounced animatedly on the bed with energy so enthusiastic it had reminded him of what a very special day it was.
"Get out of my roooom!" He shouted, pushing away the smaller figure that attempted to wrestle with him.
His cousin frowned as she was pushed back down on the mattress, then she smiled bright and big as if the previous aggression shown from Craig had been completely forgotten. "But it's Christmas morning!" She wobbled onto her feet then pointed. "You have to wake up! The adults won't let us open presents till you're awake!"
He didn't allow for any time for the words to render themselves, only hearing as if underwater as he glanced down, scowling.
"Cora.." Craig said, completely ignoring what she had been saying and only focusing on the dip of the mattress of which she stood on.
"Yesss?" Cora replied, smile growing wider as she clasped her hands together in faux innocence.
"You have fucking shoes on my bed! You're wearing fucking shoes get off!" He pointed out as he stared at the Velcro covered shoes she was wearing, growing quickly more irritable with the lack of respect and attempting to throw a pillow and knock both of the younger twins down like a pair of bowling pins. They only screamed and giggled as a response, as if it was some sort of fun game instead of impending doom Craig was about to unleash upon them.
What made it even worse is that he could hear the cackling of middle-aged women from downstairs, along with grown men hollering, which made him assume they were all watching a football game with an extra set of TVS that his dad's friends had brought over.
Trying not to scream at the top of his lungs and smash everything in his room from the overstimulation, his sister had made sure to barge in on the fun as well, walking over and standing at the border between the hallway and his bedroom as she leaned against the metallically white doorframe with her arms crossed. She had a crooked smirk on her face as if the scene of her brother's completely disheveled hair and shivering frame was amusing.
"Having fun, you two?" Tricia glanced at the excited pair as they both rummaged through Craig's underwear drawer.
"What? No— Get the fuck out of my shit!" The last pillow on his bed was thrown.
Tricia stood up straight and went from cross-armed to hands on hips as she frowned at her older brother. "Hey! No cussing in front of five year olds!"
Craig rolled his eyes at the scolding as he got up from his bed whilst trying to suppress a shiver, stomping towards the nosy duo and pulling them back by their collars as they yelped in surprise. "I was cussing at the ripe age of three, legend says my first word was dick face."
Tricia scoffed, finally walking into the bedroom and ushering both their younger cousins out, claiming they would be down in a minute to open presents. When the twins left the room the chaotic noise from downstairs raised an octave before dying down to disappointed complaints.
They're probably all upset that I wasn't walking down with them.
"You better hurry up, dad's side of the family is going to attack us with pitchforks and torches if we aren't down to open presents soon." His sister eventually groaned out as he tossed on a plain white t-shirt.
"It's like six in the morning! Uncle mike is probably still snoring on the couch from how much he drinks." He argued back ruefully. "Nobody's telling him to wake up."
Tricia snorted. "Because nobody wants to mess with an alcoholic who gets too friendly with minors." She says, allowing a moment to pass before adding scoldingly. "Don't just stand there! Get moving!"
"I cannae change the laws of physics! I've got to have thirty minutes!" He shouted, crouching down to search the now underwear covered ground for his usual and only pair of jeans.
Tricia laughed, and he could almost feel accomplished by having made her laugh if it wasn't overshadowed by the pervasive sensation that the entire universe was imploding, in which it casted a shadow over the tiny little flame that seemed to spark deep down and instead shielded itself using the numbness within.
"Yeah, alright Montgomery Scotty. And I said five." Tricia reminded urgently.
After an exhaustive search of bent knees that surely could no longer withstand his weight, he triumphantly found the elusive black pair of jeans concealed beneath the blue navy hoodie he always seemed to have on. Taking his jeans, he rose from his crouched position only to navigate the tricky process of donning the jeans, his gangly legs wiggling and writhing as an attempt to quickly put them on.
"Oh, I'm definitely ready in five." Replied Craig, before his movements became more frantic and aggressive as he frowned. "These aren't even skinny jeans, and my legs are still batting against the denim for freedom."
"That's what the patriarchy does to kind innocent souls.." Tricia sighed in faux distress, bringing her hands up to her chest to emphasize her sarcasm.
Zipping his jeans up, he sat back down on the floor to slide his socks on before hearing the upcoming stomping from the stairs, the sound only increasing with intensity as Tricia looked at him with wide eyes and an awkward smile as if to send some sort of distress signal towards him.
"The twins are coming back, so come on, you've got the bare minimum of clothes on." His sister urged him, walking over and pulling him up by the shoulder, leading him out of the only room he had deemed as a safe place.
Being dragged out of the room by his younger sister, the Tucker siblings reached towards the top of the stairs, Tricia having to usher the younger pair back down to the living room as she dragged Craig along with her to trail behind their cousins. Feeling as irritated as ever, Craig yanked his own shoulder from his sisters grip she had pinched on the worn white fabric of his T-shirt, rolling his eyes and shoving both of his white knuckled fists into his pockets as if to fight off some unknown force that would sneak up and attack him the second he let his guard down.
Once they had reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the living room, he was struggling not to cover his own ears with his palms as the place rose to a cacophonous roar, all whilst sulking behind his sister as the young pair of cousins skipped over to grandparents Craig had thought he'd never met before, that was at least till they had claimed they "changed his diapers" when he was a baby.
"Look who finally decided to come out their cave."
It was his father, Thomas Tucker who had spoken up, his voice overlapping the persistent cheering of other family members and being regarded as the only scrutable sentence since entering the living room. If it were not for the fact that Craig has heard that same phrase one too many times he probably would have laughed, especially if the circumstances were completely different and they did not already have family members at their house he never even knew existed. What made the overly used joke even more irritating was the fact that all of the middle-aged women in the room seemed to deem it the funniest thing they've ever heard, cackling loudly and tilting their heads up just to emphasize it. Craig would have liked to say that middle aged women cackling is his least favorite sound, but he has kept it to himself after admitting it to his sister a while back when they had family over for thanksgiving and she said that he was "anti-chick."
And then she proceeded to say that she wouldn't be surprised if I started getting it on with dudes..
Standing there dumbfounded at the absurdity of it all, he stepped forward to stand by Tricia, the two Tucker siblings quick to side eye each other before looking at what was in front of them.
The Christmas tree was tall, the star on top having been tipped to the side because it was being pushed down by their ceiling. The shiny plastic of what should've been used to represent pine needles were white; much to Craig's disliking because he was more of the traditional type and preferred a green balsam fir.
He knew deep down only important, rich people had enough money and wealth to be able to afford a real tree, but he still would have appreciated it if the family would have just stuck to standard green.
"Alright, kiddos! Gather 'round, it's to unwrap those presents!" Laura cheered, walking out from the kitchen and clasping both her hands together as she smiled.
Making eye contact once more as if to signify a secret message of how tired out they both were by the situation, Craig and Tricia marched their way towards the large heap of Christmas presents wrapped both in newspaper and classic holiday themed gift wrap. The two siblings seeming to create a pact in which they'd team up with each other whenever guests who weren't immediate family members visited.
"I want to open all my smaller presents first; the bigger ones are for last." Tricia blurts as she sits down cross-legged.
Craig was visibly perturbed as he took a seat nearby her, his face void of emotion as he picked up one of his presents. His facial expression remained as blank as ever as he glanced at his younger and older cousins, who were engaging in a fierce onslaught on every item in the room.
"The bigger presents make me feel too overwhelmed when I open them. Plus, I always prefer the smaller ones anyways." He drawled back eventually, unwrapping one of his gifts and trying not to make eye contact with the parents who were surely watching intently.
Craig had found that Tricia stopped moving, so he looked over to see if she might have gotten any sort of present that was so amazing it would result in her becoming speechless; it being too good for words. Yet when he saw the quizzical expression on her face he quickly finished unwrapping his own present, tossing it nonchalantly to the side to see what hers was.
"What is that?" He asked, staring at the peculiar object in his sister's hands that she hesitantly stuck her index finger through. "Gross."
"I don't know? I mean by the looks of it— I don't like the looks of it." Tricia remarked, nose scrunching.
It looks like some sort of jelly-made uncomfortable version of a Chinese finger trap.
Frowning at the thought, he reached over to grab the discarded wrapping paper that the strange object was previously enveloped in to see who it was from, then frowned even further as he saw the sticker written in small crowded letters from a sharpie.
"What?" She asked, quirking a brow.
Craig scoffed then tossed the crumpled wrapping paper towards her, watching out the corner of his eye as she caught it in her hands. "Uncle Mike probably wants to take a picture of you with it."
"Ew.. Gross." Tricia grimaced as she stared at the close jumble of sloppy letters, then curled her lip as she looked up to see her brother smirking. "Dude, he probably got you one too."
"Well, if he did he was surely betting on me using it as—"
A loud, irritating shriek interrupted him mid-sentence, the sound having caught both of the sibling's attention as they faced to where the commotion was coming from; an older cousin of the two had gotten an advanced ai version of a 3D printer, the receiver bouncing excitedly in her seated place with a smile plastered across her face as family members continued to usher all the kids to open their presents faster. Craig scoffed, feeling the electric jolt of numbness course through his veins as he thought about what he might've gotten, his parents liked to think they knew every little detail about him when they never did, at least, that's what he thinks.
The only thing they know about me is that I like that super old game Halo.. But they only ever make me out to be some sort of rebellious teenager when all it does is make me want to lock myself in my room even more.
The Tucker family's son doesn't peculiarly think he is much of an interesting person. Truthfully, he considers himself to be extremely boring; there's not much excitement within a person when all they do is mope around till you ask them about something they're interested in.
"Craig, what do you think you're doin' boy? Get to opening those darn presents before all your cousins finish before you and we throw em' all out the window!"
It was Craig's grandfather who yelled the blatant threat, the same grandfather that Craig would spend many nights with at his house as a child and listen to all the stories about Earths history. A flare of anxiety rippled through him as he sat cross-legged on the shiny white floor, considering to rebuttal his grandfather's statement and say that they didn't have any windows; at least a window they could open and throw something out of, if not for the endless vacuum of space where there is no atmosphere to scatter light. So instead, he clenched his jaw and continued opening his presents.
"So.. What were you saying that Uncle Mike would bet on you using that toy for?"
"Oh, don't worry about it."
A quiet moment between the two Tucker siblings in which neither would engage in communication with one another passed, along with the persistent cheering and hollering of other distant family members Craig would very much rather not engage with; that is, except for his older female cousin.
"Craig, I think all of our grandparents think I like fidget toys." His sister said by way of acknowledgment, lifting up a fidget spinner with the tips of her two fingers as if it were a slice of pizza too hot to touch.
"Yeah?" He asked, not at all caring whether or not Tricia continued to rant about what she had gotten, and instead kept on tearing apart the wrapping paper on one of his presents unabated.
"Yeah, I think I've opened up like five Rubik's cubes by now, just all of them in different styles." Tricia observed, averting her gaze from the fidget spinner dangling from her fingers and tossing it back under the tree before grasping onto another present. "I wonder if this one will be more difficult to solve than the other five."
"If anything, they'd have to make sure they were all easy ones," Craig drawled, finally ripping off the wrapping paper and being met with a cardboard box that had a concerning amount of duct tape on it. "You're not the smartest of the bunch."
Tricia scoffed and rolled her eyes, keeping her hands at a steady pace as she picked at the name tag on her gift. "Says you— have you been struggling to open that present this entire time?"
"No, I only just grabbed it." He replied with his plain nasal tone, bringing the box up to his chest as if the new position would bring him more strength to rip off the duct tape. "But now i'm struggling."
Tricia snickered, her nose wrinkling as she did so. "They're surely challenging you, maybe after you open it it'll be another box."
"I think they're just making my presents by putting booby-traps all over them."
After the children of the Tucker family residence were finished opening presents, they were all huddled and separated into their own quarters of the house in favor of showing off what they all had, while the adults occupied the living room and kitchen. Craig was surely surprised for what he had gotten; he was in the middle of opening his last two presents only to find that his grandfather had gifted him a portable cassette player from the technology company Sony, which he had been told from the gift giver himself it was called a Walkman. Not only did he receive a box full of blank cassettes to go along with it, but he had also gotten a RadioShack CTR-121, and it had been said to him that he would be able to create mixtapes with it.
"I've seen you have taken a liking to burning CD's, so I figured i'd get you this." His grandfather said after Craig had opened the presents.
"Woah, is this for real?" He questioned, eyes growing wide as he excitedly reached forward with his free hand.
"Yeah, I tested it out." The old man confirmed, then apologized as he added, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you no vinyl record thingies, those don't exist anymore.. as long as they aren't in my price range.."
Certainly, in the moment Craig knew it was true, but he had simply brushed it off and said thank you to everyone before slipping away unnoticed back to his bedroom, unbothering to ask for any help or how to even create his own mixtape in the first place and instead locking the door and heading straight for his disarrayed bed, kicking away his thrown pillows with various clothing items in the process. Eventually as time passed he had gotten by with only two people knocking on his door instead of the entire family barging in just to check on if he was still breathing; and along those course of hours the boy had gotten quite used to picking himself out a song, hooking it up to his phone device, and recording it onto the cassette as he sat there waiting for yet another song to finish itself off his Spotify playlist.
Of course, he was picked on from his older cousins for having a liking towards things that were well over a thousand years old; them all claiming that the sound quality of a cassette tape sucked compared to the speakers on all of their headphones.
They're right, the sound quality sucks, but unlike their headphones that resemble a toothbrush my little toy has history.
But as soon as his last song Spaceboy from The Smashing Pumpkins was finishing itself off he immediately hit the stop button before the next recommended song could play, basking in the final accomplishment out of having created his very own mixtape. A cassette molded to fit the entirety of himself into, then spat back out in the form of music made just for him, without ever having to share.
————————
That same night after Christmas when everyone was asleep in their own guest rooms, he heard a course of shy knocks come from his door. For a heartbeat he groggily sat up and just stared, hoping it was the current drowsiness messing with his brain and that it wasn't one of the twins. But, he realized, that even with the door locked and no possible chance of getting in, the two would certainly be pounding their fists against the white-tinted platinum.
With another few extra knocks kicking him out of his tranced like state, he sat up from his comfortable position to answer it, feeling as irritated as ever before unlocking and opening the door.
The irritation from just a couple seconds ago was quickly eaten by the numbness and instead replaced with contentment at the sight of his mother, then as the numbness processed it even more, the void within him spat out a familiar feeling of confusion as he quickly glanced behind himself to squint at what time displayed on his alarm clock.
"Is something wrong?" He asked plainly, turning his head back at the woman who stood in front of him.
"No, but I must tell you that Santa forgot to give you something this morning.." Laura replied with a smile, tapping her son's arm then leading the boy to trudge down the dark hall.
"Did Santa just not tell his elf slaves to work hard enough this year?" Craig quipped back as they were heading towards the top of the stairs.
"Considering the fact that Santa is the one who delivers the gifts, i'm sure the elves have not much to do with this." Laura grinned, heading down the stairs and watching her feet while grasping onto the railing as if to not trip and fall.
Once they had reached the living room, Craig was led back to the Christmas tree, which was the only thing that shone brightly amidst the darkness of everything else; twinkling lights strung up beautifully around fake pine needles with a carefully ribbon wrapped present underneath. Needless to say, the boy no longer had an opinion of whether or not he cared if the tree was real or not, because as long as it had the same dazzling glow that resembled a thousand stars it would always be breathtaking.
"I'm sure you want to appreciate our wonderful tree, but I think Santa wants you to open up that gift now." Laura politely ushered, patting her sons back to encourage him as she walked over to sit down on one of the cushioned chairs.
"Enough with the Santa act, mom." He rolled his eyes, though not able to hide his amusement as he smirked. "Thanks."
Laura smiled, bright white teeth shining just as bright against the dark as the fluorescent tree lights did. "Oh, you better thank me. Making that thing took me a month to figure out."
Craig raised a brow as he sat down cross-legged, grabbing the present and getting a feel for its lightness. "You made it? Like from scratch?"
"With my very own hands." The woman replied.
With that, Craig had smiled at his mother's wording, watching as she gestured with her two pale hands in the air before he looked back down at the gift between his own. Making a mental note to brag about whatever extra present he had gotten and been woken up for to his sister, he quickly began unwrapping the gift, pulling off red ribbing and setting all the discarded pieces which led to a box at his side. For a second, he glanced back at his mom just to make eye contact with her eager face, she was smiling and her eyebrows were raised in wait of determination.
"You're scaring me." He drawled, face going blank and unreadable.
"Do you think I believe a word you say, boy?" She replied, somewhat sternly as she kept smiling wickedly.
After pausing to consider his options, Craig was left with no other viable response other than the one he commonly resorted to. So, he turned to his most trusted fallback nasally. "I don't know."
Laura sighed, rolling her eyes before motioning her hand upwards. "Hurry with opening that gift up, I had to finish the last of it tonight and my fingers are already pricked enough from those needles I keep in the Royal Dansk cookie tin."
Eyes widening, he questioned out of curiosity before revealing what was inside. "Soo, you sewn me something?"
"More like knitted, but you've got the idea, Marvin." She corrected wittily.
Craig sighed heavily as he lifted the lid of the box. "I told you to stop comparing me to the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy robot."
"I can't help it, you're so similar to that thing when you're both incredibly clever but overwhelmingly angsty."
He wasn't quite sure whether to take the side of his mother's sentence when she had complimented his intelligence, verses when she pointed out how exceedingly depressed he was. Yet though when he saw what was inside of the tiny gift box he quickly pushed those two conversation topics aside in favor of a new one, pulling out the knitted garment with a smirk and tossing the box back under the tree. At first glance, the color seemed to match the navy hoodie he was wearing, but when he fiddled with it some more, he realized that it had a yellow puff ball on top.
"A hat." He pointed out, blankly.
"That is correct, in the beginning I wanted to knit you a pair of mittens to go with it... but— I realized that I struggled too hard on figuring out how to attach that yellow poof thing without it being too flimsy and flying off." She said, sighing out her words mid sentence yet offering up a sheepish smile to her son.
The boy offered nothing in return, twisting the hat around in his two palms as if he were solving one of the Rubik's cubes Tricia had gotten for Christmas. He had decided to break his facade of seriousness as he hesitantly tried the hat on, and in that moment when he made eye contact with his enraptured mother he noticed that he felt entirely stupid now that he didn't have a mirror to check himself out in first.
Fantastic, I probably look like Flick from A Christmas Story or something.
But instead of getting the ridiculing he surely thought he deserved, it felt as if no time had been wasted when his mother rushed to the floor to envelop him in a long, tight hug. She was caressing the boys upper arm gently as she incessantly whispered on his scalp about how handsome and perfect he was, and all of that alone made him feel like he wanted to cry. It wasn't from any overstimulation, not from the feeling of Laura's chin springing on his head as she spoke, but it was from all the emotions he wasn't used to dealing with; like he was juggling too many things at once, and even the numbness isn't enough this time, he wants to feel nothing, yet he cares and he feels everything he tries to ignore.
"Mom, I don't.."
He suddenly found himself unable to speak as the lump in his throat had began to form, as if his entire mouth was a habitat for tiny beavers who constructed a dam to prevent the rising tide of upcoming static to spill forth.
"What is it? Do you not feel like you're worth anything?" Laura spat out, worried.
I don't know where that came from and it wasn't what I was about to bring up, but that does sound pretty accurate.
"What? No." He lied. "I just don't want you to leave." He admitted sheepishly.
He was pulled away from his mother's chest and turned to face her, and it took all of his numbness to gather the strength not to cry; for some reason looking at her made the situation much more vulnerable for himself, and he wanted to go back upstairs to his room where it was safe, where he could hide himself in and not have to worry about the future. He told himself that he didn't care, and wouldn't care when the time came, but he can't ignore his own heartbeat during the process of it all, can't ignore the feverish ice thaw of it beating too hard against his sternum because he cared. He always will and never wont.
"Oh sweetie.." Laura cooed, lifting up Craig's hat and dragging him close to sniff his scalp. "You'll always be my little boy, I love you so so much. "
"That isn't exactly reassuring me about the subject I specifically need reassurance on." He muttered out, trying to pull his head away.
"You still have that baby smell."
Ugh, not this again.
Despite his best efforts to appear indifferent, Craig allowed his features to settle into a bland expression as his mother dragged him along to repeat a story that had been recounted many times prior.
"If I were blindfolded, and a hundred kids lined up.."
"Mom." He grumbled.
"i'd be able to sniff you out."
"Mom, that is weird."
"But it's true!" Laura protested.
Just as the boy was about to disagree, he was quickly pulled tight to his mother's chest once more, wrapping his arms around her and sinking into the warmth that he surely would miss when she was gone the next day. Laura had been amongst those chosen to depart down to Earth, the President claiming that it was a mission to check the planets current condition. He figured he had always taken his mother for granted and never actually appreciated when she cooked him food or occasionally helped with his laundry because it was expected, but now that he knows he has to do it all on his own he is eternally grateful for her duties.
The hug she had enveloped him was much more silent than before; he could only hear the sound of his mother's heartbeat as she caressed the back of his neck with only the soft precision only a mother could acquire.
After a minute, she had decidedly spoken up. "I'm not stupid, I know what you're thinking."
The words were far too accurate and knowing for him to be able to reply, instead breathing in deeply for what was to come.
"Plus, I'm sure while i'm gone your father can cook something up for you."
Craig momentarily frowned as he nuzzled into his mother tighter, as if grasping onto her would prevent her from going anywhere. "But dad sucks at cooking, last time he tried to make meatloaf it was the texture of a leather shoe."
Laura laughed. "Well if it makes you feel better, I'll be back in a year to cook you all the good food you've been missing out on."
Before he could even feel entirely annoyed with his mother, Laura did something he could've never prepared himself for; she laughed. He pulled himself away to frown at the sight of it all, those starkly white teeth set on full display as if for the whole world to see, yet Craig was the only witness of something he believed could truly classify as ethereal.
When he couldn't help but smirk slightly back, that's when she spoke up, a feathery hush amidst the silence of it all.
"I love you so much, there's nothing that'll ever change that. You and your sister are my whole world."
Her voice was just above a murmur, and her eyes were the same type of glossy as rain soaked asphalt.
"I love you too, mom."
It only came out as a quiet whisper; otherwise, he would've cried.