Heartbreak in a Gift

The ribbons were already loose when he presented himself, so I helped to finish untying them.

He was sure he would be my most memorable gift in years. In some sense, arrogant as it was, he was right.

There was nothing boxed or tightly taped. I was able to quickly flip the lid and peer inside to see all the joy and excitement there for the taking.

I loved the look of that package. All its bells and whistles made it quite enticing. The more alluring the specialties, the less likely I was to say goodnight and walk away. I stayed to partake.

Therein lay the problem. The gift, the utterly delicious delicacy, wanted to be tasted.

He knew I’d be hooked on his addictive words and distractions.

Touching me this way and that, he, in turn, made me his most prized package ever. He was sure to tell me that over and over.

However, some parcels spoil when left out in the rain. The carelessness of neglect caused ruin, and he ruined me. He ruined me for all the other men. He ruined me by taking out the essential contents of the gift I presented and leaving it used and broken. He destroyed my self-worth and watered and fed my self-doubt.

Buried beneath all the tissue paper were heartbreak and devastation. With the swift kick of those cowboy boots, I was under his foot. After smiling sweetly and calling me “baby girl,” he felt free to wipe his feet on me. I tried to gather myself from the filth of the street. I sat on the curb. I worked to piece myself back together again, but it proved too much. It confirmed I had contents missing.

He strode away from me with his head back, laughing at his triumph. He had a new gift under his arm now.

She didn’t have a clue what might happen to her beautiful package as he wound his way through what she willingly gave to him, but I did.