The gift

By Lisa Canape

HappyNews Citizen Journalist

I met Laura when we were in third grade. Her silky, waist long russet hair framed her bronze face. Her strength was disguised by her delicate features—almost like a spider web. She wore clothes that seem to come from faraway lands, and I imagined her to be an exotic princess.

I came to the school midyear. The principal accompanied me to the classroom to introduce me to my new teacher. As they spoke, I felt embarrassed to be standing in front of the class. This was a situation I had experienced a dozen times before, having moved frequently in my early childhood. But the moves were getting harder for me as I was growing up. I never made attachments to places, people or things.

As I stood in the front of the classroom, my eyes gazed across the rows of desks to see my new peers. One of them was a girl in the front row who stuck her tongue at me. I felt the burn of several dozen of eyes staring at me—assessing me.

The teacher then instructed me to sit at the empty desk next a girl named Laura. I silently questioned the wisdom of the teacher to put a waif next to a princess. I did everything to avoid eye contact as I obediently took my seat and thought that however long my family intended to stay in this town, wouldn't be short enough.

Laura surprised me by smiling and saying hi. She seemed oblivious of the caste system, or perhaps she intentionally snubbed the rules. She became my first friend. During the school day, we would share our thoughts and dreams. We passed notes during class and enjoyed the sun during recess. When the school day ended, we would each return to our separate worlds, never socializing outside of school.

At the end of the year, Laura told me that she would not be returning. Her parents decided to send her to a private school.

It was a chance opportunity when we met again three years later. Laura seemed excited to see me, and we spoke as if no time had elapsed. She invited me to her birthday party. Apologizing for not having an invitation to give me, she wrote down the details of place, time and date on a scrap piece of paper. The party was going to be at a restaurant. I imagined that her parents would be taking three or four other girls out to dinner.

"Are you sure it will be okay with your parents to invite an extra person?" I asked.

Laura flashed her smile and said not to worry.

Selecting a gift for Laura was agonizing. I had not spoken with her during the past three years, so I had no idea what she would want. What does any 11-year-old girl like? I had no idea. I could not even fathom what I would want if I had a party. But I knew that whatever I got for Laura, it would have to be special. Laura was just any ordinary girl.

I began my search for a gift in the toy store. Nothing seemed right. Then I saw a baby doll with delicate features. Its eye lashes were feathery, the lids closed when the baby was laid down, and the doll was dressed in an intricate lacy gown.

Would Laura like a doll? I didn't know.

Although I searched all of the aisles, my thoughts continued to return to the doll with the lacy gown. I broke my bank to pay for it. When I arrived at the restaurant on Laura's birthday, I read a sign on the door stated that it was closed. I double-checked the information Laura had written on the paper. This was the place. I felt disappointed for Laura having her birthday plans ruined by the restaurant's closure. A man saw me standing outside the door.

"I am sorry. The restaurant is closed for a private party."

Laura noticed me and ushered me past the man. "I invited her; she is my guest."

Although I always knew that Laura's family was not of modest means, I really never had a concept of just how much wealth others could have. The restaurant was packed with people, all of whom were guests for Laura's party. The banquet table was covered with presents, stacked four or five layers high. The guests were boys and girls, several of whom were flirtatious with each other. I immediately regretted my gift selection. I didn't belong here. I wanted to flee. I wondered if it could be possible for me to sneak my present from all of the others and leave without anyone noticing.

As Laura carefully unwrapped present after present, a cork filled my throat. Pop records albums, jewelry, fashionable clothing and other gifts that illustrated the inappropriateness of my gift. My ears burned and my stomach ached as she finally held my present in her hands. As Laura unwrapped the paper and exposed the gift for everyone to see, a boy exclaimed in disbelief, "A doll?!" I heard a couple of girls snickering near me. "Who gave you a doll?" another jeered. Laura looked over at me. I lowered my eyes and bowed my head in shame, wishing that the floor would open and swallow me up.

"I love it!" Laura exclaimed.

I looked up to watch Laura embracing the baby doll to her heart. "It is my favorite present of all!"

The room became silent.

A boy standing next to Laura asked eagerly if he could hold the doll. Laura passed it on to him gently. He cradled the doll with the tenderness of an adoring father. Several of the girls commented on the beautiful lacy gown the doll was dressed in, and the kids began to ask to have the doll be passed to them.

Although my gift to Laura was just a doll, her gift to me was so natural. She loved and was loved without pretenses. It was the best gift I have ever received.

Lisa Canape is a licensed clinical social worker residing in Salt Lake City.

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