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Thursday after work, I head to Libby’s Gifts, which is near Trinity Bellwoods Park.
When I open the door, I look around in horror. This place is unbearably cutesy. Like, Ginger Scoops is a little over the top, but this place is...wow.
And then I smile when I think of Chloe telling me about this store. It was exactly what I had in mind when I asked for a recommendation for a place to buy Michelle a gift.
Well, I’ll take a look around and hopefully be out of here in five minutes, otherwise I might have nightmares of giant kittens, puppies, and unicorns chasing me through an enchanted forest.
I shiver at the thought.
There’s a large shelf devoted to Hello Kitty, the popularity of which I do not understand. There are Hello Kitties in every size, from keychains to stuffed ones that are almost as big as me. One Hello Kitty is carrying a cupcake; another is riding a unicorn.
I move on. I find cutesy notebooks, cutesy magnets, and cutesy socks, but nothing is quite right.
In the greeting card section, there are several intricate pop-up cards, including one of a couple embracing on a bridge near a Chinese pavilion and a willow tree. I stare at it for a moment. If I had a girlfriend...
What the hell?
I don’t want to be in a relationship. I’m done with relationships. Given my luck, if I were to start a relationship now, the woman would probably leave me at the altar and then write a book that would ruin both chocolate and beer for me.
I’m really not creative.
But I bet Chloe is, including in the bedroom...
I slam the door on that train of thought.
I move away from the romantic pop-up cards and find one with a mother and baby elephant, plus another with a castle that looks like it escaped from a Disney movie. After a minute of indecision, I decide to buy the latter for Michelle.
Next, I come across a section of stuffed animals, including an alpaca with a little blue hat jauntily perched on its head. Or is that a llama? I tilt my head and regard it for a moment.
No, definitely an alpaca.
I pull it off the shelf and move farther into the store, where I come across some amigurumi.
Yes, I actually know what amigurumi is. Back in university, I used to date a woman who was obsessed with them. She’d crochet tiny cute animals for stress relief. During exam period, she crocheted me a pair of giraffes.
I dumped her as soon as exam period was over. Not because of the amigurumi giraffes, which I kept because it seemed like a crime to throw them out and I’m not completely heartless, but because I’d fallen out of love with her.
She also insisted on teaching me how to crochet, and I might still have my ugly attempt at a puppy somewhere in my closet.
But here in Libby’s Gifts, there’s a perfectly-crocheted elephant, as well as a series of other animals. Lions, tigers, bears, moose, turtles and a very intricate peacock.
“Can I help you?”
I jump in surprise when I hear a woman’s voice behind me.
“Um...” I’m tongue-tied. Speechless in horror at the fact that someone has found me carefully examining an amigurumi peacock, in a shop that looks like some kind of utopia for people who are high on sunshine and kawaii.
“What are you looking for?”
I put the peacock back on the shelf. “I’m shopping for my niece. She’s turning six.”
“Perhaps she could use some glitter pens? Or a Hello Kitty lunchbox?”
“Actually, she already has one of those,” I mutter. “I’ll take a look around and let you know if I have any questions, okay?”
She walks away, and I discover a collection of amigurumi food next to the animals. There’s a hamburger, a carrot, a cabbage, an apple, an eggplant...
Hmm. Perhaps my foodie niece would appreciate some amigurumi fruit and vegetables. I pick up the eggplant, then notice the peach beside it.
I choke and push thoughts of Chloe out of my mind as I shove the eggplant back on the shelf.
Deciding I’ve had enough of amigurumi, I head toward the cash register, though I get distracted by the sticker selection—just kidding—and place my alpaca and pop-up card on the counter.
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in some glitter pens?” the woman asks.
“Uh, no, that’s quite alright.”
“What about this?”
It’s a little box with a cute hedgehog on top, and inside is some stationery with woodland creatures, plus some small pencil crayons, two strawberry erasers, gel pens, and a hedgehog pencil sharpener.
You know what? I can’t deal with any more of this store. I need to get out of here ASAP before I turn into Totoro. “Sure, whatever, I’ll buy the hedgehog stationery set, too.”
* * *
When I arrive at Adrienne’s on Saturday morning, Michelle runs up to me. She’s wearing a blue party dress and a blue ribbon in her hair.
“Happy birthday,” I say as she hugs my waist.
“Hi, Uncle Drew.” Then she drops her voice. “I’m supposed to pretend to be more interested in you than your presents.”
I laugh.
Adrienne enters the front hall and regards all the packages I’ve placed on the bench by the door. She had to switch shifts with someone so she wouldn’t miss her daughter’s birthday. “You’re spoiling her.”
I shrug. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“Can I open them now, Mommy?” Michelle looks up at her mother with wide, pleading eyes.
“You can open them after lunch, which I hope your uncle brought with him.”
I hold up the bag of sushi. “It’s here.”
Apparently, Michelle wanted a make-your-own-sushi party with her friends, but Adrienne managed to convince her that a paint-your-own-unicorn party was a better idea. I glance into the living room, where a folding table has been set up. It’s covered with newspaper, and there are eight unicorn figurines, maybe six inches high.
This is the party I will help supervise this afternoon. How lovely.
“Okay, Michelle,” Adrienne says. “Uncle Drew has seen you in your party dress. Now you can go upstairs and get changed for lunch.”
“Why can’t you wear your party dress for lunch?” I ask.
Michelle sighs, as though her mother is being totally unfair. “Mommy says soy sauce and party dresses do not mix. She also says that paint and party dresses do not mix.”
“Your mother is very wise.”
“Why are you taking her side? You’re supposed to be cool.”
“You’ll think I’m very cool once you open your presents.”
“Mommy, can’t I open them now?”
Just then, the front door opens, and a male voice says, “Where’s the birthday girl?”
Adrienne’s mouth opens in surprise.
“Daddy!” Michelle shrieks and rushes toward her father. Nathan hugs Michelle then swings her into his arms, and I most certainly do not feel my eyes getting a bit misty.
But for a split second, I wish I had this life.
I thought I would, once upon a time. Lisa and I had decided we’d start trying to have kids after we’d been married for a year.
Of course, that was before she climbed out a window at the church.
Why she didn’t just walk out the door, I’m not sure.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming.” Adrienne kisses her husband, who is still carrying Michelle, on the cheek.
“I decided at the last minute and thought I’d surprise you.”
There are dark circles under his eyes, but he looks happy.
Nathan puts Michelle down. “I bought you a present, but I didn’t get a chance to wrap it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small gray box.
Michelle opens it up and gasps. Inside is a silver necklace with a heart pendant. “It’s like grown-up jewelry!”
He chuckles. “Yes. Grown-up jewelry. Because you’re a big girl now.”
“Put it on for me, Daddy!”
He clasps the necklace around her neck, and she hugs him again.
Feeling a little superfluous in this family moment, I head to the kitchen and get out some plates for the sushi.
* * *
After lunch, Adrienne says I can leave since Nathan is there to help with the party, but I decide to stay. Not because I’m particularly excited about watching eight little girls decorate unicorns, but I’m here, so why not? What else am I going to do today? Plus, I admit I’m a little tempted by that chocolate ganache cake.
However, one of the little girls came down with a fever this morning, so there’s an extra unicorn figurine, and Michelle insists I decorate it myself.
So here I am, staring at my unicorn figurine and wondering what the hell I should do. I finally decide on something simple: I’ll paint it white with a purple mane. Then I’ll give it to Michelle, since I don’t need it for myself.
I grab some white paint and start working on my unicorn. The girl beside me has also decided to go for something simple. She appears to be a Goth in training, and she’s painting the entire thing black.
I’m so intently focused on painting my unicorn—ha!—that I don’t notice there’s a problem until I hear some shrieks. (In truth, I was daydreaming about the beer I plan to have when I’m home and no longer surrounded by seven six-year-olds.) One of the girls has dumped an entire jar of glitter on her unicorn.
“Ava used all the glitter!” one of the girls whines, and two others join in.
I look around frantically for Adrienne or Nathan, but they are nowhere to be found, so it looks like I’ll have to deal with this myself. Great.
“The glitter is for everyone,” I say. “You have to share. Sharing is caring.”
Goddammit, where did that come from?
Ava looks at me as though I’m speaking a foreign language.
I sigh. “Look, most of the glitter didn’t stick to Ava’s unicorn. I can fix it, okay?”
I shake the unicorn to rid it of excess glitter, then sweep the pound of glitter on the newspaper back into the jar. The other girls are content with this, and I go back to painting my unicorn. Since my fingers are covered in glitter, I get some on my unicorn, but that’s okay. It’s a fucking unicorn.
After I finish with the white paint, I reach for the purple and start painting the tail, then the mane. Satisfied, I push it away from me and look around the table. Goth Girl has just finished painting her unicorn black, and everyone else is still busily working on making their unicorns a mess of colors and glitter.
Michelle looks up at me. “You’re already done, Uncle Drew?”
I nod.
She shakes her head, a look of deep disappointment on her face. “Your unicorn is so boring. It only has two colors.”
I’m tempted to point out that mine is still more colorful than Goth Girl’s unicorn, but I’m not six, so I don’t say that.
“It has glitter,” I say instead, slightly defensive.
“Not very much glitter.”
“Fine. I’ll give it a tattoo.”
Now Michelle is intrigued.
I grab the pink paint. The white part of my unicorn is dry, and I quickly add a pink heart to its ass. It’s a very finely-shaped heart, if I do say so myself.
“There,” I say. “It now has a heart tattoo on its...bum.”
“I want a heart tattoo on my unicorn’s bum!” Michelle says. “Can you paint it for me?”
“You can do it yourself.”
“But I can’t make the heart as nice as you can.”
“Alright,” I grumble.
Ten minutes later, I have painted a pink heart on every unicorn’s bum. Even Goth Girl’s unicorn. I was surprised she asked for one, but perhaps she felt left out, or she liked the thought of her unicorn having a tattoo, even if it was a pink heart.
Adrienne enters the room, a glass of red wine in hand, just as another fight breaks out over the glitter. Fortunately, my sister handles this one. Nathan enters the room a moment later, and I figure I can take a breather. I find the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, pour myself a generous glass, and ruminate on the fact that my life now involves decorating unicorns, buying stuffed alpacas, and being a regular patron of a cutesy ice cream shop.
* * *
The chocolate ganache cake is amazing, though it’s wasted on most of the party guests, who’d be more impressed if it had My Little Pony decorations. But it’s still chocolate cake, and they are happy to eat it, as well as the ice cream. The strawberry-lychee sorbet proves particularly popular and I can’t wait to tell Chloe about this.
Interesting that she’s on my mind so much.
I, of course, do not have any ice cream. I may have painted a unicorn at a six-year-old’s birthday party, but I draw the line at eating ice cream.
After the kids leave, it’s blessedly quiet in the house, but I feel a bit of a headache coming on after all the earlier excitement. I’ll wait for Michelle to open my presents, then leave.
Michelle begins with the stuffed alpaca, followed by the hedgehog stationery set. She likes both of these, but she’s not as impressed with the bottle of olive oil as I’d hoped.
Seriously, what was I thinking, buying a bottle of good olive oil for a child just because she’s a foodie? She’s only six.
Next, she unwraps the pasta maker and squeals in delight when she sees the box.
I can’t help but smile.
“Mommy, it’s a real pasta maker, not like the fake one you got me at Christmas!”
I turn to Adrienne. “A fake pasta maker?”
“I got her a Play-Doh one. She wasn’t impressed.”
“Let’s use it tonight!” Michelle starts opening the box.
“Tomorrow, honey,” Nathan says, patting her shoulder. “It might take a little while to set it up and make the dough, but we can try it before I leave.”
“You have to leave tomorrow?” Michelle’s chin wobbles.
He nods. “I only came back for the weekend.”
“I don’t want you to leave. Mommy made the grossest dinner last night. Food is so much better when you make it.”
“Gee, thanks,” Adrienne says.
“But it’s true!” Michelle protests.
“I know. Your dad is a much better cook than me.”
“I can’t wait until I’m big enough to use the kitchen without an adult. Will I be old enough when I’m seven?”
“We’ll talk about it later, baby.”
Michelle comes over to me. “Thank you for the pasta maker. It’s the best.”
As my niece throws her arms around my neck, I can’t help longing, once more, for this life. A life I gave up on years ago, when I found myself alone in my bed on the night that should have been my wedding night.
For years, I didn’t bother wishing for a wife and family.
But now, I grudgingly admit that it might be kind of nice.