Ungettable
“Honey, I ca-“
“You said-“
“I know, but I-“
“You said, one gift.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s impos-“
“Nothing is impossible.”
“What do you even mean, you want a-“
“It means I want one.”
“Is this some kind of a euphemism, or something?”
“Nope.”
“It’s ungettable!”
“Have you tried?”
“How am I su-“
“This was your idea.”
“Yeah, and my gift is totally reasonable. But you?” He gestured helplessly. “You gotta come up with something reasonable. Something I can actually do.”
“I believe in you.”
He wasn’t sure if the pat of his cheek before you walked out of the room was condescending or meant to inspire him as some show of genuine confidence in him. Either way, he stared at the kitchen doorway long after you left, thoroughly stumped. He looked over at Dodger laying by the back door, lamenting, “How the hell am I supposed to get her a unicorn for Christmas?”
Floppy-eared head tilt of interest aside, even the dog was clueless. Chris dropped down onto the barstool at the end of the kitchen island, shoulders slumping forward ‘til he leaned low on his arms, catching his chin in his hand to cover his mouth as he slowly shook his head. He sat there for a long minute, his gaze unfocused out the window ahead, racking his brain, but completely at a loss.
The hand holding his head flung out in a small, and impotent, gesture. “How the fuck..?”
Chris sat up, leaning on an elbow as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked his phone and stared at the cursor blinking on the screen. What the hell did he think he was going to actually Google? Rolling his eyes at himself, he groaned and let the screen blackout.
“She’s kidding,” he decided, talking to himself. “She has to be.” His head cocked to the side, chin rising a little, maybe in hope, as he called out, “Hey...you’re kidding, right, babe?”
“No.”
“God dammit,” he softly muttered, his head dropping and hand clamping over the ball cap on top of his head. His head snapped back up, arguing, “They don’t exist!”
“Santa Claus could do it.”
His eyes leveled at the challenge, and obvious slight, no matter how airy it sounded from the other room. This wasn’t supposed to be this hard. He thought he’d come up with a great idea.
Christmas was always such a big deal in both your families. Maybe a little excessive? Sure, it was nice to get people what they wanted and go home with an armful of your own presents, but did it need to be so much?
You both enjoyed spoiling others, and each other. But sometimes you both could sit back and say, did we really need all of this? Chris came up with the idea to scale back your Christmas together. Instead of the frenzy of shopping, hiding, and wrapping presents for each other, why not pick one gift that they each really wanted or thing they wanted to do. He thought it might make things more meaningful and maybe take some of the stress out of the holiday if there was less on the list to shop for. You’d happily agreed and he thought he had had a good idea. What an idiot he turned out to be.
He had no idea you would ask for something completely unattainable. He was thinking about a day spent doing something you liked or a cozy weekend away for two. Maybe something for the house or you’d ask for a room to be redone. You were usually so much more...reasonable. But he’d be damned if he was going to come up empty handed for you for Christmas.
“I’m gonna find you a fahckin’ unicorn,” he determinedly announced.
“I know you will,” you smiled from your seat in the living room.
~
He tried. God knows he tried.
Chris did his research, checking Google to make sure there wasn’t some new pet fad or obscure animal the internet had decided was a “unicorn”. He made sure the only real animals he could think of were narwhals and that weird fish he saw on the Discovery Channel one time. And he asked questions, when he had them.
“You want, like, a unicorn tattoo?”
“No.”
“You want me to adopt a rhino, or something?”
“No.”
Nerd that he is, he thought he’d struck gold when he mentioned the constellation. He thought maybe he could name a star for you. But when you told him you’d never known there was a unicorn shaped set of stars, he was out of ideas. He’d even checked in with friends and family, asking if you’d said anything or they had any idea what you could mean.
It was coming down to the wire. A week before Christmas, and in the midst of another round of calls and messages looking for suggestions, he had Downey send him a picture he could forward to you.
You had laughed so hard you nearly cried, opening the text from Chris while you were at work. He sent you a pic of a llama, so clearly at Downey’s place, wearing a unicorn horn headband with the message from Chris saying, “I'm Working on it”. And you believed him.
Come Christmas morning, Chris was anxious as he watched you unwrap the box in your lap. When you pulled out the plush unicorn from its red and green tissue paper packing, he let out a sigh of relief at your adoring smile as you looked over the plump white horse with its soft fur and gold, twist of a horn.
“I can’t believe you actually got me a unicorn,” you gushed, giving the stuffed animal a squeeze.
“You have no idea what I went through,” he told you.
You listened as he recounted the harrowing tale of the last few weeks, with your prize in your lap. You heard about the phone calls and texts, the Googling, the aimless wandering around from store to store.
“Finally,” he said, “I’m walking around this store in the mall and a woman asks if she could help me find something.” Chris put his hand up to vow, “I straight up lied to her.” You snickered, as he explained, “She was a little older and she obviously didn’t know who I was, so said I’m looking for a unicorn for my little girl.”
“Like, you actually told her you had a child?” you snorted.
“You’re goddamn right I did,” he nodded once. “She showed me some little crystal figurines, but they seemed-“ He shrugged. “I don’t know, tacky, or whatever.”
He pointed at your gift, telling you, “This was the only other unicorn they had. I hope you like it, because I seriously couldn’t find anything else I thought you’d like.”
“It’s perfect,” you assured him, with a fond smile.
“Thank god,” he sighed, smoothing a hand back over his hair. A grin tugged back the corner of his mouth and he shook his head. “I was so worried that I wasn’t gonna have anything for you for Christmas.”
“You really tortured yourself over this, didn’t you?” you smiled.
“You have no idea,” he chuckled, nodding along. “But you wanted a unicorn,” he reminded you, gesturing his hand up at your gift. “I gotta ask, why a unicorn?”
“It was a joke for about a day,” you admitted.
His face fell. “What?”
You nodded. “I panicked,” you shrugged. “I hadn’t thought of anything by then, and when I had to have an answer on the spot I said the first thing that came to mind. I figured you’d ask me again in a day or so and I’d have come up with something, but you didn’t ask.”
“A unicorn,” he frowned. “That was the first thing that came to mind?”
“I don’t know!” you whined. He chuckled, smiling at your face petulantly scrunching up, even as you argued, “Why didn’t you just ask me what else I wanted?”
“You said you wanted a unicorn,” he insisted, his open palms helplessly turning up as his shoulder rose and fell. “What kind of a shit husband am I if I don’t get my wife what she asks for?”
You both laughed, before you leaned over the small space on the couch between you to give Chris a kiss and told him, “Thank you. You’re a good husband. And this is probably the best Christmas present you’ve ever gotten me,”
“Cah’mon,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.
“No, seriously,” you promised, with a sure nod. “I ask you for the one thing in the world you couldn’t possibly find and you spent literal weeks trying to find it, not giving up until you found the most adorable substitute? That you were so determined and tried so hard to make me happy is incredible. Do you know how many people would have just given up and bought me a gift card, or something?” You moved the unicorn over to his lap, saying, “This little stuffed animal says ‘I love you’ more than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“You mean that?” he wondered, a little humbled that what should amount to a gag gift could be so sentimental.
“I do,” you nodded. “Thank you. I love it.” You gave him a playful nudge of your elbow, winking, “You did good, kid.”
“Thanks,” he quietly snorted, with a bashful grin and shake of his head. Chris leaned over to give you a kiss. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
