Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2015 Prompt Responses - 20. Prompt 447 - The Gift
Prompt 447 – Creative
Tag – The Gift
You haven’t been feeling well lately, but you still try to keep up with your normal routine. You’ve been asked to a party, and although you don’t feel well, you decide to go. The only request is that as a gift you give something homemade. What do you give as your gift?
“Hey, Brian.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and grimaced. Why the hell had I answered the phone?
“Hey, Col. You are coming tonight, right?” I exhaled slowly before I spoke, trying to think of a believable excuse not to attend. “Let me rephrase that…you are coming tonight. Amy won’t take no for an answer, and if you don’t show up she’ll take it out on me. I’m horny, Col. I really need to get some tonight.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. “Fine. I’ll come to the stupid party, even though I feel like shit, just so you can get some.” I sat up gingerly, hoping my head wouldn’t pound too much. “At least one of us will…” I muttered.
My jerk of a friend had the nerve to laugh. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
My eyes widened. “What? Wait! No…please don’t tell me –“
“Gotta go! See you tonight!” I could hear Brian’s snickers before the line went dead. Great. That meant that Amy was going to try and set me up again. Why she bothered was beyond me, since the last five times had been complete disasters.
Amy and Brian were notorious for throwing ‘theme’ parties. The last one had been ‘game night’, and would have been fun if it weren’t for the idiot they set me up with. He was cute, but couldn’t draw his way out of a paper bag. We came in last place during ‘Pictionary’ and he had the nerve to get pissy and blame me. As if that wasn’t enough of a turn-off, he tried to get to me to take him home with me because he needed to get laid. I’m not kidding; he literally told me to invite him to my place so he could fuck me into oblivion because he hadn’t gotten any in weeks. I didn’t care how hot he was. I have some standards.
The theme of tonight’s party was ‘homemade’. I groaned. Each guest was supposed to bring a gift they had made themselves to exchange with other party guests. I wasn’t the artsy/crafty type, so I had no idea what I was going to make. I stood, then walked into the kitchen to scrounge up some lunch. It was well past breakfast time.
I started a pot of coffee, then noticed a very brown bunch of bananas sitting on the counter. Perfect for banana bread, I thought absently. One thing I was good at was cooking. I grinned. Banana bread. That’s homemade! I gathered the ingredients while the coffee brewed. I decided to skip lunch. I had been feeling run down for weeks. My stomach and digestive system were extremely sensitive to what I ate, but I hadn’t been able to pinpoint any triggers. Just when I thought I had it figured out, something else sent me into the bathroom for the afternoon. My doctor wasn’t much help. All the tests he had run so far all came back negative. His suggestion was to keep a food diary and track my symptoms. So far, nothing correlated. I sighed. Maybe I should eat now so I could skip eating at the party. I’d much rather have a reaction at home, than at my friends’ house.
I managed to get showered, dressed, bake two loaves of banana bread, and get to Brian and Amy’s relatively on time, despite reacting badly to the sandwich I had made for lunch. I smiled when Amy opened the door, determined to not let my issues ruin my evening.
“Collum! It’s so good to see you!” Amy gushed and gripped me tightly in a bear hug.
“Ugh…you too…” I grunted and held up the banana bread, hoping it wouldn’t be squished by my friend’s exuberance.
“C’mon…there’s someone I want you to meet.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me through the door.
I tried not to groan. I really wasn’t in the mood to be set up. Amy grabbed the banana bread out of my hands and set it on a table full of whatever other ‘homemade’ crap people had brought. Most of the guests were congregated in the living room, talking in small groups and laughing.
“Amy! I need you in here, now!” Brian yelled from the kitchen. “Those things you have in the oven are burning!”
Amy let go of my arm and growled in frustration. “Well, take them out, you idiot!” She hurried into the kitchen, granting me a temporary reprieve from my set-up. I nodded and exchanged brief pleasantries with the few people I recognized, before plopping down on the couch next to a small, mousy-haired man. He smiled and blushed.
“Hi, I’m Robby,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Collum.” I shook his hand, then tried to surreptitiously wipe the sweat off on my jeans. Gross. I wasn’t discreet enough, however. Robby turned even redder.
“Sorry. I’m kind of nervous, and I sweat when I get nervous.”
I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. “It’s ok. You have nothing to be nervous about. If anything, I should be sweating. Amy always uses these parties as an excuse to set me up with some loser. I wonder who it is this time?”
Robby made a sound that sounded like a cross between a mouse getting strangled and a cat getting its tail stepped on. He turned white, then stood up and fled the room. I stared after him, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. I shrugged, then leaned my head back against the couch. I was regretting the fact that I let Brian blackmail me into coming. My head hurt and my stomach was rumbling ominously.
I felt the couch cushion sink as someone sat next to me, then a smack upside my head. “Ow!”
I sat up and looked into the blazing eyes of my friend’s wife. “What the hell did you do to Robby?”
“What? Nothing! We were just talking and he got up and left like I’d just insulted –“ My eyes widened in realization. He was my set-up. And I’d called him a loser. I groaned.
“Robby is the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. It took a lot to convince him to come tonight and meet you. He’s very shy and his ex hurt him very badly. I finally manage to draw him out of his shell, and you just put him firmly back in there. Great job, Collum. I knew it was a mistake to introduce him to you.”
“Look, I’ll go apologize. I had no idea it was him you were setting me up with.”
“Oh no. You’re not going anywhere near him. He’s too good for you, Collum O’Shaunessy.”
“Then why did you want to introduce him to me?” I knew it was a mistake the minute the words left my mouth.
Her eyes widened and she scowled. “You know, I’ve gone out of my way to introduce you to my friends, and you’ve rejected them all. Robby’s such a sweetheart, I thought for sure you guys would hit it off. I didn’t realize you really were the uppity jerk everyone says you are.” She stood up and walked stiffly into the kitchen.
I stared after her, mouth open. I was the jerk? Did she realize that all of her set-ups only wanted to get into my pants? That I wanted something more than that? I regretted coming and my stomach rumbled loudly, prompting me to rush to the bathroom.
When I emerged, the gift exchange was in full swing.
“Collum! There you are! It’s your turn to pick.” Brian gestured toward the table that contained about five wrapped gifts of varying size. I grabbed the closest one and sat in an empty chair.
“Go ahead and open it,” Amy said. I could tell by her demeanor that she was still mad at me.
The package was relatively flat and square, and neatly wrapped in navy blue paper. I tore off the paper and opened the box, preparing myself to pretend to like whatever creation lay inside. My eyebrows lifted in surprise as I beheld the colorful pencil drawing of a vase of flowers. I thought we were supposed to bring something homemade? This creation was stunningly realistic. The artist had some serious talent.
“If you don’t like it, I can draw you something else. I figured I’d be safe with flowers since most of the people here are women. I know flowers aren’t very manly,” Robby said, twisting his hands and looking at the floor.
“You drew this?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m a graphic designer, but never lost the love of putting pencil to paper.”
“It’s incredible. You have some real talent.”
He raised his head and looked at me. “You like it?”
“I love it. It will go great in my dining room.”
His entire face lit up when he smiled. He was actually pretty cute. It was then that I noticed he held one of the loaves of my banana bread in his lap. “It seems we got each other’s creations. Although banana bread doesn’t even come close to your drawing.”
“Amy says you’re a great cook. I’m sure it’s fine. I hope you don’t mind, but I had her cut up one of the loaves for everyone to eat. I live by myself, so I’d never be able to eat both of them before they went stale.”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
Amy walked into the room with the cut-up banana bread on a tray, passing it around to whomever wanted to try a slice. She offered the tray to Robby first, then to me with narrowed eyes. She didn’t look very happy that I was talking to Robby. I declined to take a piece, not trusting my stomach. Robby bit into a slice, and his reaction was not what I had hoped. He tried to hide the grimace, and immediately grabbed his cup and drained it.
“It’s…good,” he said.
“What’s wrong with it?” I glanced around the room. The party guests who had decided to try a slice all had similar looks of disgust on their faces.
“Um…”
It was clear that Robby didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I held my hand out, and he wordlessly handed me what was left of his piece of bread. I took a small bite, then immediately spit it out into a napkin.
“Oh my God…I used salt instead of sugar.”
Robby chuckled. “Yeah. Something’s not quite right.”
“I am so sorry. You give me this incredible drawing, and you get salty banana bread. I’d like to make this up to you. How about I cook you a proper dinner? That way you can see where I hang your picture, and I swear I won’t mistake the sugar for salt.”
He laughed and smiled. “Sure. I’d like that.”
- 17
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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