Gifts have never been my boyfriend’s strong suit. We’ve been together for four years now, and each time my birthday rolls around, I have to spend copious amounts of time hinting at items I would like to have. Last year, for example, I kept showing him pictures of a particular necklace, and even sent him an email link. Twice! Yet, despite my best efforts, he never caught on.
So, what does he get me then, you might ask. Well, nothing! I have never received a gift from my boyfriend. Not for my birthday, not for Christmas, and not even for our anniversary. My friends have asked me why I’m still with him, and the truth is, I feel like breaking up over a gift, or lack thereof, would be a rather petty thing to do. I mean, is it really that important for an otherwise healthy relationship?
Some might say it is. I mean, I do feel disappointed, of course, but I’ve grown used to it. I already know that for my next birthday, and the birthday after that, my boyfriend will pat me on the back, wish me a good day at work, and go back to watching TV.
I must have been particularly shocked when he didn’t get me anything during our first year together, so I asked him about it. I thought that maybe he’d forgotten, but I couldn’t understand how, considering I kept reminding him about it throughout the month.
Well, you know what he said?
“Aww, I’m sorry, pumpkin, aren’t I enough?”
And that pretty much sums it up. Every year, it’s always the same. I mean, it’s not like I expect him to buy me expensive perfumes or a car, but a cake or a bar of chocolate would be nice. Perhaps I’m overreacting. Four years is no small feat, after all, and what’s a single day in the grand scheme of things?
However, I am becoming increasingly tense and irritable in the days leading up to my birthday. My boyfriend noticed this year, when he discovered me crying in the bathroom.
“What’s wrong, Katie?” he asked, pulling me into a hug.
I sobbed, not knowing how to bring the subject up again. I mean, at this stage, what was even the point? It wasn’t like things were going to change.
“I need a new coat,” I sniveled, “There’s this one I really want.”
He stared at me, wide-eyed, as I showed him a picture of it on my phone.
“Well, why are you crying? Go out and get it!”
See, this is exactly the issue. My boyfriend doesn’t believe in gifts.
“I can’t, Michael,” I sobbed.
“Why not?” he looked astounded, “Don’t you have money?”
How could he be so clueless? Overcome with a sudden pang of anger, I blurted out something I immediately regretted.
“Either you get me a birthday gift this year…” I took a deep breath, “Or we’re over.”
He looked shell-shocked. To be fair, I was too.
“I’m sorry,” I began, but he scrambled to his feet and left the room.
For the next couple of days, we barely spoke to one another. He stayed in the living room, and I mostly kept to myself in the bedroom. I tried apologizing several times, but he only grumbled under his breath, something about me only wanting him for his money. We both knew that wasn’t true though. He wasn’t even working at the time, so I was the one giving him an allowance.
I had to go to work on my birthday. Most people would shudder at the thought, but I didn’t mind it at all. See, it was the one place I knew I’d be appreciated and acknowledged with at least a small gift. My colleagues went all out this year, getting me a large cake and a gift card from my favorite boutique. I would have been ecstatic, if it hadn’t been for the nagging thought of returning home to nothing.
However, when I let myself in through the front door that evening, I was immediately met with a vase of red roses, surrounded by glowing candles. A note sat on top of the flower bouquet:
You’ve discovered your first clue,
You decide on what to do,
Take the plunge, the price was steep,
Check the place on which you sleep.
I stared at it, dumbfounded. Had he actually bought me a gift?
I dashed into the bedroom, looking around wildly for the next piece of paper. I found it sitting on top of my pillow.
You have found the second hint,
Have you read the finer print?
You will get there, keep the faith,
Check the place in which you bathe.
What? The finer print? I giggled at the questionable rhyming. Still, this was a great improvement from the previous years.
I didn’t have to search long when I entered the bathroom. The note was in plain sight, stuck to the surface of the mirror.
You have found the final clue,
Please leave us a good review,
We’ve been paid a fine deposit,
Go ahead and check your closet.
Wait. Us? Had he hired a company to do this?
I yanked the closet doors open. Inside, hung the most beautiful rose-coloured coat I’d ever seen. I grabbed it, pulling it off its hanger in excitement, and throwing it on. It was perfect. The shade complimented my complexion and the suede material felt soft on my skin.
“Michael!” I called out, expecting him to emerge from the kitchen, “I found it!”
But aside from the soft crackle of the candles, the apartment was silent. I picked my phone up from the floor where I’d left it, and turned it on. One new notification. I jabbed at the screen, willing it to open the message faster. It was from Michael.
“Your order #63820 has been completed. The details are below for reference:
8x red roses ‘Classic’…………………………………………………….. 30,00 USD
6x scented candles ‘Vanilla’……………………………………………. 22,00 USD
3x custom scavenger hunt clues ‘Birthday’……………………….. 50,00 USD
1x pink suede coat ‘Michael’……………………………………………. 0,00 USD
Please check coat pocket for complimentary gift!”
I gaped at it. My lovely new coat had been free? And what is this about a complimentary gift? A new wave of excitement washed over me. Was there something else? Had he bought me the watch I’d asked for on my last birthday?
I stuck my hand into the left pocket of my coat. There was something inside. It was circular…and squishy. At once, I retracted my hand and snapped the overhead lights on to get a better look. Whatever it was, it hadn’t left any residue on my fingers. I swallowed and pried the pocket open at the sides to try and see inside.
I wish I hadn’t.
At first, I didn’t even understand what it was. It was so red and bloody I couldn’t even see it properly. I took the coat off and dumped it onto the floor, shaking the pocket upside down. The contents rolled out, nestling into a crease in the suede. I nearly retched at the sight. There was no mistaking it. They were eyeballs.
I screamed.
Then, I retched.
Then, my phone pinged.
I grabbed at it, my heart pounding in my chest. Another text message from Michael.
“Thank you for shopping with us!”
W-what? What was he playing at? With shaking hands, I pressed the call button and held my phone up to my ear, ready to give my boyfriend a piece of my mind.
“Hello?” a young woman’s voice chimed on the other end.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
“Where’s Michael?” I blurted out. Was he cheating on me on my birthday?
There was silence on the other end.
“Could you let me know your order number?” the woman’s tone was sickly sweet.
It took me a moment to understand what she wanted. I had no idea whether the whole ordeal was some elaborate prank I wasn’t in on, but I certainly wasn’t going to stoop down to their level.
“Pass the phone to Michael, right now!” I growled.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Please let me know your order number and I will see how I can help.”
There was no way around it.
“Six-three-eight-twenty,” I read aloud.
I heard her clacking at her keyboard.
“Right,” she said after a pause, “I can confirm that your new coat is indeed 100% Michael. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“What?” I cried, “What are you talking about? Where’s Michael?”
She cleared her throat.
“Ma’am, Michael came into our shop this morning looking for a very particular coat. He showed us a picture, but we told him we didn’t carry it, and that it had to be custom made. When we gave him a price estimate, he told us he’d get the material himself. That’s all I can tell you.”
As she spoke, my heart traveled from my chest into my throat.
“Well, w-where did he get the material?”
She sighed.
“I’m not at liberty to say, but everything was done at his request. Is there anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”
I ended the call and dropped my phone onto my new coat, staring at the mess on the floor. My eyes were brimming with tears. I couldn’t understand what had happened. Was I supposed to call the police?
My phone pinged.
I picked it up and stared at the screen.
It was from Michael.
He’d sent a video.