" it's not much, but... " things have been good between them lately, more than good. so he holds out a slender box ( it's wrapping leaving a little to be desired // but isn't the saying it's what inside that counts?? ) a small smile lifting his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. it was a simple gift : a delicate shawl patterned with birds. something he spotted in town and she immediately came to mind. " happy mother's day."
she doesn’t expect anything from dylan — a text, maybe, if he’s feeling kind enough, but not THIS. just to see him is nice, to find he’s coming for dinner is even nicer, but a gift? norma can’t remember the last time he gave her something ( too long ago, when dylan was still young enough to fight for her love and norma was too G O N E to care ) so excuse the smile, ear-splitting and toothy. “for me?” her voice is small, caught in her throat but it’s BIG, too, overflowing with affection. things have changed between them, he looks at her now and she doesn’t feel so guilty, so angry — finally, she just sees him.
“dylan, you didn’t have to get me anything...” that won’t stop her from peeling at the wrapping, not bothering to notice how very him it is, the overwrapping at the corners and the terrible tape job. the box’s lid is discarded, too, and norma is left staring down at what she already knows is a shawl; she’s seen it in the window of a boutique in the village, spread across the shoulders of a dummy. she thought it was so lovely how the dark birds sat calm against the robin’s egg blue threads, ready to take flight . she’s even stopped in once, tempted to try it on, only she never did; once on her shoulders, norma knew she would never be able to take it off. now, she wouldn’t have to.
“it’s... beautiful, dylan. really —— thank you...”
