metro card//MGG

13

my dad used to bring me gifts from the places he went. I think it was his way of making up for his absence. he'd go to New York and bring back a glass-blown red apple; LA was a carved wooden palm tree. they were little trinkets that he picked up on the street or found in specialty stores.  he made the world seem smaller, more accessible to my eager hands. whenever he'd return, the promise of what new thing I'd gotten accompanied my general excitement at seeing him.

when you're a kid, you don't really think about it much. it was just how my life was: he was often on trips and the sky was blue. I don't really know when I became resentful, but it happened before he stopped bringing gifts home.

I felt it more during special days. my eighth grade graduation, which I hadn't expected to feel as momentous as it did, he was in Shanghai. when I won an essay contest at my school in ninth grade, he sent me a text. didn't even call.

in my heart of hearts, I think the anger probably sparked when I was too young to understand it. but anger is a secondary emotion, so it comes after the feeling of a stronger, primary emotion. I was hurt. I felt abandoned. my mother was trying, but it didn't even feel like my dad cared.

if I were to give a reason for my insecurity, it would be that. it's always affected my life. even in ways I didn't notice.

this should not be the first thing on my mind when I wake up on Christmas Eve morning, my body angled strangely in my bed. I can already tell I'm going to have a sore neck today. I stretch my arms above my head, arch my back, and yelp out a tired sound. I have no idea what Matthew and I are doing today, so I'm equal parts excited and nervous.

I'm glad he asked me to hang out. although I was worried that he would feel bad and invite me to spend the holidays with him, a bigger part was worried that he wouldn't. it's shameful, really, the way I look forward to our interactions.

I dedicate my morning to cleaning the apartment. after washing the dishes from last night, I dust surfaces in the common area and tidy up the piles of theory books in my room. my bed is an unkempt mess of blankets; the result of a restless sleeper.

I Windex the window that looks out over the neighborhood, pausing to watch people walk by below. it snowed ridiculously hard last night, so much so that I almost asked Matthew if he wanted to just spend the night. but it seemed too risky. I'm afraid of myself.

there's something so satisfying about cleaning my space, of taking down old posters and putting up new ones. the smell of citrus cleaning supplies lingers in the bathroom, and I finish off my chores by taking a hot shower. music plays loudly while I set out something cute to wear, twisting my hair up into a half-up-half-down style that frames my face and makes me feel a little like a princess.

I'm attempting to put on eyeliner when Matthew FaceTimes me out of nowhere. my eyes widen as I realize he's going to see my face, so I set up my phone in a more flattering position and answer.

"hi." I barely glance at the camera while I continue to work on my makeup.

"what are you doing?" he sounds curious. the crunch of an apple makes me look at the phone screen, only to see him walking across his apartment while chewing.

"nothing. why'd you FaceTime?" I cap the pen and examine my face in the mirror. for my usual lack of dexterity, it actually looks pretty good.

"I wanted to show you this!" he changes tones, flipping the camera to land on a huge, plastic-covered basket sitting on his counter.

"what is that?" I squint. the light coming in through his kitchen window reflects off the cellophane. all I can tell is that it's enormous.

"it's a gift basket from the show." he proceeds to make several excited noises as he starts to unwrap it.