It Isn't the Gift

Posted on Tue 27th Apr, 2021 @ 9:36pm by

866 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Business Not At All As Usual
Location: Block Quarters
Timeline: MD 7, 1845

Most people on SB109 who had any interaction with Hieronymus Block would definitely think of him as cranky. If they heard the word curmudgeon, they might picture the dictionary entry with his picture next to it. Fortunately, people didn't hear that word often these days.

There were a few, like the Hunt fella who had owned the big casino in Tivoli Gardens, who had managed to see through his gruff front, tease him a bit, and come to have good fellowship with him over growing things, the major focus of his life. A very few.

Then there was his wife, the exception to every rule in his life. He'd loved Gisele every day of his life, or so it seemed to him. They'd grown up together on Earth, in a small ethnic/cultural enclave in a country once known as Ireland. To its inhabitants, it was still known so, and they claimed the name of Irish, before all other designations. Hieronymus couldn't remember a time when he hadn't loved little Gisele Sprout, protected her from teasing, shared his best treasures with her, and then encouraged her as she spread her wings in the art world. He was her biggest fan, most staunch supporter, and loved her with all that he was.

For her part, Gisele returned the love she was given. Her greatest disappointment was never having children, but having Hieronymus was enough for her. He hated nicknames and shortened names, but Gisele was the one person who could get away with it. In their love language, she occasionally called him Hero, and he didn't always know whether to accept it as an accolade or as a challenge.

Gisele's love language was words. She'd known forever that Hieronymus was different. His love language was gifting small things. She did occasionally hear the words, "I love you," but much more often, some small gift appeared on her art stand, or was handed to her wordlessly. The gifts were never extravagant, but they were frequent small mementos that let her know she was cared about immensely.

A few days before, Gisele had found a beautiful hand-cut crystal vase containing one long-stemmed red rose surrounded by white baby's breath. A few rose leaves were wrapped with them, and the vase sported a small red ribbon tied in a fall of bows. It made her smile to think of it, and she glanced at the table near her left elbow to see it again.

The clock sitting next to the vase reminded her it was time to clean up. Her husband would be home shortly, and they were going out for their weekly visit to Pearl With a Chainsaw. They have a standing reservation for a table in the lower level gardens, not far from the jade statue of Master Kong. The food is delicious, and it gives them a change of pace, as well as a chance to dress a little more formally than they do around the house. Over their years on SB109, they've come to know both the Ripper sisters and the Pearl sisters and to appreciate their separate talents.

Gisele was just inserting a small jade drop into her ear when she heard the front door open. "I'm in the bedroom, Hero," she called. "I'm almost finished dressing. Come and sweep me off my feet and then take me out on the town!"

Block came to the doorway of their shared space and watched his wife with a bemused smile. "You're beautiful, but saying so is gilding the lily."

She turned to him with a smile of her own. "It's still nice to hear it after so many years." She glanced down at his hands. "Oh, what's that you have there?"

Walking toward his wife, he held out his right hand. A beautiful fruit, the perfect shade of orange for a pumpkin rested in his palm. "It's the first of the Nam Doc Mai mangoes. You remember I was playing around with the cultivars? I thought I'd get your opinion of whether it was worth the time I've spent."

Taking the elongated fruit with a slight beak on one end into her hand, she felt the smooth skin. "This is the one you crossed with ... was it a Haitian?"

"Haden," he corrected, "but same area of Earth. Why don't you try a small piece while I shower and dress for our fairy tale evening?"

His wife smiled at him, "I'll do that. Your clothes are laid out for you. Or what I hope you'll wear, anyway. The green in your tunic will match the green of my obi."

"Matching you on any day is the highlight of my life," Hieronymus said, managing to sound completely serious and not at all foolish. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and headed for the bathroom.

Gisele remained seated at her antique dressing table for a moment, looking at the mango with a slight smile. She wrapped both hands around it and brought it in toward her heart. Another gift. Just a small something to let her know she still mattered to him. It isn't the gift. It's the mattering, she thought.

 

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