And do you know what happened last Christmas?
He made a little wooden cup, well, I
think it’s a cup, anyway.
It’s pretty, scarred and finished and inlaid with a metal band.
He gave it to me and said,
isn’t it nice, don’t you like it?
I didn’t know what to say to him.
How do you let him down?
I mean, he has accidentally alienated me for so long . . .
and I thought, oh my God, not now, never again and before
I said, I don’t have something for you
He said it was all right, would I like to step outside?
The air was cold and numb
We sat on the back stoop, I holding the cup.
We sat in an awkward silence, that broke when
an icicle fell off the roof.
He laughed a little out of giddiness. I just laughed.
He said, this is nice. Are you cold?
No, I said.
Another silence.
Look, I said, I can’t accept this gift.
He was puzzled. I said, it’s a nice offering, it’s beautiful,
very well made, but I--
I just don’t . . . .
I think he got the idea. Oh. Well, he said, you can still keep the cup,
as a gift. He walked away and I saw his breath wisp away
and disappear.
I did what he could not do. I took a deep breath, and
the cup dropped to the ground.
The next second, my foot stood amid splinters of wood and metal.
I guess, I thought miserably,
it might as well have been his heart.