Against All Odds

Chapter 35

STELLA

I hadn't been home for Christmas in six years.

I was used to spending the holiday alone, or with a group of random strangers and fellow travellers at whichever foreign location I had chosen to while away the festive season. Last year, I had spent Christmas touring Iceland, and the year before that I spent it in Hanoi, eating pho instead of turkey.

I had grown out of the expectations of receiving gifts, revelling in the excitement of the shared company and experiences of those around me instead. So when my dad woke me up with a small, gingerly wrapped parcel I was surprised.

We hadn't said that we were going to exchange gifts. Colin had never been the gift-giving or receiving kind of father. My mom had been all hands on deck 'round the religious holidays, and Christmas she normally went all out with the decorating, food and gifts. I doubted Colin had maintained her stamina, and when I arrived last night I noticed that not even a tree had been put up and decorated.

My dad, not being one for gifts in the first place, had given me a small present of innocuous items, but it meant the world to me. A small packet of biltong, a pair of utilitarian socks, some deodorant, sanitary wipes, a small teddy bear you'd normally find at the checkout tills at a supermarket and a keychain with the South African flag dangling from tiny silver links.

I had one other gift to open, an unexpected parting gift from Mia the day before. She had taken me to one side right before Killian and I had departed and handed me the little gift bag- fastidiously decorated with tasteful ribbons and a small card. "I think this could cheer you up," she had told me with a small smile. "I know things are tough right now. Figured you could use a gift to open tomorrow morning. And remember I'm only a phone call away."

It had made my eyes burn, but I had thrown my arms around her in a hug. Mia could be an intense, bristling bundle of misplaced nerves but her heart was in the right place- even if it was difficult to remember it sometimes. Within the bag she had given me was an exquisite, custom-made leather bound organiser with my name stamped on the cover. In the note, she had written: To make sure you don't go off the tracks, and take note of every experience to share with the world.

It was one of the most thoughtful things I had ever received and I tucked it into my tired-looking backpack. When I opened the main compartment of the bag, it was then that I noticed I had actually been given three gifts that morning, for another tiny, wrapped parcel was tucked just under the main zipper on top of all my other crap inside. There was no note or card, but when I tore off the paper and pried open the small, red box and found a pair of delicate earrings within it, with two small scallop shells attached to a short silver chain, I knew that it was from Killian.

The shells had littered the beach when I had been walking along it- the day Killian had found me to clear the air between us. I knew he had bought this from Port Alfred and snuck it in my backpack sometime between the wedding and our road trip back up to Johannesburg.

I tried not to let that impact me, tried not to let my heart squeeze too painfully as I slid the earrings through the holes in my lobes.

It was close to midday when I had finally risen and seen the gifts left for me, so I padded my way through the house to the kitchen in search of some coffee and to find my dad. The house was situated in the leafy suburbs of Rivonia, not ostensibly large or modern, but comfortable enough to have raised a family of four. The floors had been tiled throughout and the kitchen was semi-detached from the main lounge area. Dad hadn't changed much since mom died and walking through the house was almost a haunting testimony to her life's achievements. Photos lined the walls of the passage where the bedrooms were located, more photos lined up atop dressers and cabinets in the living and dining room. The furniture was outdated now, but comfortable, and it was bittersweet to see and be in the house, in a place that mom had loved and maintained with all her heart, without her.