The Gift Read Free Page A

Luckily he wasn’t cut. The baby, that is, not the turkey. The turkey sustained quite a few injuries. We don’t think he’ll make it.”
    The boy looked both relieved and confused at the same time.
    “When’s my mam coming to get me?”
    “She’s on her way.”
    “The girl with the”—he cupped his hands over his chest—“big jugs told me that two hours ago. What happened to her face, by the way? You two have a lover’s tiff?”
    Raphie bristled over how the boy spoke about Jessica, but kept his calm. The kid wasn’t worth it. Was he even worth sharing the story with at all?
    “Maybe your mother is driving very slowly. The roads are very slippery right now.”
    The Turkey Boy thought about that again and looked a little worried. He continued pulling at the skin around his nail.
    “The turkey was too big,” he said after a long pause. Heclenched and unclenched his fists on the table. “She bought the same-sized turkey she used to buy when he was home. I don’t know why, but she thought he’d be coming back.”
    “Your mother thought this about your dad,” Raphie confirmed, rather than asked.
    The boy nodded. “When I took it out of the freezer, it just made me crazy. It was too big.”
    Silence again.
    “I didn’t think the turkey would break the glass,” he continued, quieter now and looking away. “Who knew a turkey could break a window?”
    Then he looked up at Raphie with such desperation that, despite the seriousness of the situation, Raphie had to fight a smile at the boy’s misfortune.
    “I just meant to give them a fright. I knew they’d all be in there playing happy family.”
    “Well, they’re definitely not anymore.”
    The boy didn’t say anything but seemed much less smug and angry than when Raphie had first entered.
    “A fifteen-pound turkey seems very big for just three people,” Raphie said, trying to keep the conversation going.
    “Yeah, well, my dad’s a fat bastard, what can I say.”
    Raphie decided he was wasting his time. Fed up, he stood to leave.
    “Dad’s family still used to come for Christmas dinner every year,” the boy caved in, calling out to Raphie in an effort to keep him in the room. “But they decided not to come this year, either. The turkey was just too bloodybig for the two of us,” he repeated, shaking his head. Dropping the bravado act, his tone changed. “When will my mam be here?”
    Raphie shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably when you’ve learned your lesson.”
    “But it’s Christmas Day.”
    “As good a day as any to learn a lesson.”
    “Lessons are for kids.”
    Raphie smiled at that.
    “What?” the boy spat defensively.
    “Well, I learned one today.”
    “Oh, I forgot to add retards to that, too.”
    Raphie made his way to the door.
    “So what lesson did you learn then?” the boy asked quickly, and Raphie could sense in his voice that he didn’t want to be left alone.
    Raphie stopped and turned, feeling sad, looking sad.
    “It must have been a pretty shit lesson,” the boy said.
    “You’ll find that most lessons are.”
    The Turkey Boy sat slumped over the table, his unzipped hoodie hanging off one shoulder, his small pink ears peeping out from his greasy shoulder-length hair, his cheeks covered in pimples, his eyes a crystal blue. He was only a child.
    Raphie sighed. Surely he’d be forced into early retirement for telling this story. He walked back to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
    “Just for the record,” Raphie said, “you asked me to tell you this.”

C HAPTER 4
The Shoe Watcher
    L OU S UFFERN ALWAYS HAD TWO places to be at one time. When asleep, he dreamed. In between dreams, he ran through the events of the previous day while making plans for the next, so when he was awakened by his alarm at six a.m. every day, he never felt very rested. When in the shower, he rehearsed presentations, often while responding, one hand outside the shower curtain, to e-mails on his BlackBerry. While eating breakfast