Sander Sides One-Shots: Platonic

The Blue Bike

If you have read my other Sander Sides one shots then you'll remember one called 'Ten Crofters Christmas' which I posted last Christmas. This story is like that one. Which I mean that it's based off of a true Christmas story that my Mom reads to my siblings and I every year. 

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It was Christmas when Logan's three older brothers were ten and seven just after their father, Virgil had accepted a transfer from New York to Florida it was a busy time so while Virgil got ready for the traditional Christmas dinner the next afternoon.

Roman and Remus took turns trying to keep Patton and six year Logan from playing baseball with the shining Christmas tree ornaments while their Uncle Thomas, who was visiting for the holidays, took care of their new baby brother, Janus.

Among the bustle of the Christmas Eve excitement, Virgil's mind was preoccupied. His thoughts kept returning to the used bicycle hidden safely in the garage rafters. Next to it lay the boxes holding two brand-new matching three-speed bikes which he had purchased for Roman and Remus.

Due to budget strains from the move had prevented the father from buying a third bike for Patton. Instead, he set about restoring the old single-speed, fat tired bike that the twins no longer rode. Scouring pads and elbow grease made the rusty spokes shine. The inner tubes were patched, and a new coat of paint erased the battle scars of collisions and neglect. A replacement set of hand grips made the handlebars look almost new.

Virgil realized that Patton would probably recognize the old war horse, but he was sure that he would be happy just having his own bike. And in a year or two he would be able to buy him a brand-new one. Patton had already received a big share of hand-me-downs from his older brothers. Many of his clothes, toys and books had been previously used.

After all of the children were tucked into bed Virgil started his marathon toy and bicycle assembly projects. When he finished the new red and green bicycles, he placed them side by side near the Christmas tree. He then carefully rolled out and placed the old bike next to the new ones.

The shocking contrast of the half-sized blue, thick-tubed bike against the sleek, new bikes made the old two-wheeler suddenly look small and old-fashioned.

Virgil grew anxious. Had he made a mistake in trying to redo the old bike for Patton? Would he feel slighted? Patton was only seven, too young to understand family finances. But he would be quick to spot this injustice perpetrated by Santa Claus: new bikes for his brothers, and the old war horse for him.

Panic swept over Virgil as he realized he'd slipped up. Better run to the store and buy a matching bike, quick. But on Christmas Eve? It was already 11:30 p.m, and the stores would probably be closed. A few quick phone calls conformiend it, everything was closed.

Thomas tried to comfort his brother "don't worry, Virge. He'll love the bike. You've made it look just like new."

Virgil was not comforted. He kept imagining the disappointed look on his son's face as he recognized the old hand-me-down. Though it was very late when he finished the last stocking and as exhausted as he was from his assembly projects, Virgil did not sleep well that night.

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Early Christmas morning, the boys were poised in our annual positions in the hall—all in a row, youngest to the oldest. It was still dark outside, but the excited children were already hopping with the special excitement of Christmas morning. Thomas and Virgil were in the living room with their phones and the lights ready to record their grand entrance.

Finally Virgil yelled, "alight, come on in," and they blazed through the doorway like a shot.

In a matter of minutes, the beautiful array of packages and ornaments was transformed into a mountain of strewn boxes, wrappings and ribbons. The twins spotted their new bikes, gave them the once over with due praise before moving on to the Christmas tree to locate more presents.

Amid the chaos Patton stood firmly next to the old blue bike. He was touching every part and talking aloud, "Look, it has new grips and new paint!" He said with joy "a brand-new seat! Would you look at those pedals? And it's my very own, my very own bike."

Patton didn't seem to notice there were other presents for him under the tree. He stayed near his bike and repeated the same speech several times, though no one was listening to him. No one, that is, except his father. He stood silently on the other side of the room, oblivious to the rest of the children. His phone held low at his side, listening to Patton. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he witnessed this perfect acceptance of his imperfect gift.

It has been a long time since the red and green beauties were worn out and discarded. Even the old war horse was sent to the glue factory years ago. But the image of my brother's tear-streaked face on Christmas Day reminds me still of the warmth of a Christmas gift well given and well received.

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Happy Holidays everyone. Hoped you enjoyed this story. So I'm thinking of starting a second Sander Sides one-shot book but instead of Platonic fics they would be romantic. What do you all think?

Also, in case your confused the story is being told by Thomas.

Take it easy Guys, Gals, and Non-Binary Pals. PEACE OUT!

-Isabel