The Gift

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Melissa has one last gift to give her father.

The Gift
by Kristine Roland

Edited and proofread by Angela Rasch



Beep, Beep, Beep

Melissa stared at the machine making the irritating but reassuring noise. It showed a weak but still present heartbeat of the man sleeping in the hospital bed. There were several other machines hooked up to him, as well as several IV's.

Melissa held back her tears as she sat in the chair next to him, and reached to cling to his hand. She noticed how frail it was, and remembered when she was a small girl and he had been so strong. How safe she had felt when her father held her in his arms.

She squeezed his hand gently.

Her father's eyes opened, and she saw him smile when he recognized her. She could see that he was very frail, but aware.

"Hi Dad, I'm sorry that I wasn't here sooner, I got here as quickly as I could."

She watched as her father struggled.

"it's okay. . . . Long flight. . . . Bob? Kids?"

"No. . . . They wanted to, but they really couldn't get away, just yet. Bob's looking into flights for the weekend."

He nodded, understanding.

"The truth is, we have some things to talk about, and I needed privacy that I wouldn't have gotten with Bob along."

Her father squeezed her hand encouraging her. "Okay."

"Remember when you and Mom sat me down, and you first told me about your other self. I was maybe eight or nine, not quite into puberty yet, but almost."

A slight nod accompanied his wonderful smile.

"I didn't handle that very well at the time. . . . I'm sorry about that."

Once again she felt the gentle squeeze of his hand, as she continued.

"My first thought of course was that you were going to embarrass me in front of all my friends, and I couldn't believe it. Even then I should have known better, as you always put Mom and my needs first. It took me a while, but I did eventually figure that out. Once I got over it, it was kind of cool being able to talk about fashion and makeup and stuff with you and Mom."

She smiled at her father, and he gave her one back.

She held back a tear — wishing the hospital odor around her wasn’t so ominous. "Some of those shopping trips the three of us made back then were sure fun. I hope you know that after that initial reaction, that Mom and I always loved and accepted you."

He shook his head.

She smiled and gently increased the pressure on his hand.

"What you probably don't know, is that I knew how hard it was for you to watch me grow from a little girl into a woman. I could see the jealousy that you fought as I started to grow my breasts, when I had my first period, and went on my first date."

She saw him start to object and quickly moved on. "Oh, I knew that you were also happy and proud for me, but I knew how much you hurt inside, and I made a vow that someday I would find a way for you to experience those things for yourself."

With that she saw a sad smile and a tear come to her father's eyes. "It's okay. . . . I loved you and your mother; and I wouldn't change one day."

She smiled knowing the depth of what he’d said. "I know that, Dad. I can't turn back the clock, and I can't give you a new body. I can't even cure this disease . . . . but I can give you that experience now."

She saw the questions in his eyes and pulled a small device out of her pocketbook. It looked like an oversized IPod, and had a wire connected that had several small electrodes.

"I've been working on this for ten years, Dad. This device holds recordings of my memories of all of those things. It can play them back for you. You will, for all intents and purposes, live those days as me. Everything I saw, everything I could smell, what I could feel, taste and hear, all of it Dad, it will be just like you were me. All of those special moments are here; it's my gift to you. Will you take it?"

Her father looked at her with tears gushing from his eyes. "Those are your memories . . . . private, personal."

"Yes, and I wouldn't share them with anyone else; and when you are done with them, I'm destroying this recording. But I want you to have them, Dad. I can't give you your own, but I can share mine. Please!"

Her father closed his eyes. "Yes. I would like that very much."

Melissa attached the electrodes to his temple. "Are you ready?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She pushed a button, watched the panel on the device, and remembered each of the days that it was playing. Although the machine fed memories to him at high speed, the whole thing would only take about twenty minutes to run; he would perceive them as though they were full days.

It started with one of her earliest memories. The day she and her parents had gone to a lake and she had learned to swim. She still remembered the cute little one-piece swimsuit, with its little ruffled skirt.

She knew her father was feeling her memories of him and her mother, and wondered how that would feel for him, to see himself through her loving eyes.

The next day was the day her mother had "the talk" with her about the birds and the bees. She laughed as she remembered being totally grossed out by the thought of sex. The man puts What, Where? Eww! She didn't think she had ever been so wrong in her life.

Well, maybe the next day on the recording, which was the day she found out that her breasts were growing. She was lying in bed, and her chest was itchy. She had scratched them lightly, and realized there was a hard nodule under both nipples. She had heard horror stories about women finding nodules in their breasts and having breast cancer. She ran to her mother in a panic. "Mom I've got lumps. I've got breast cancer!"

Her mother had tried not to laugh. "I think that's just your breasts coming in dear, but we will make an appointment with your doctor to make sure."

Soon after, she had her first period. She had actually forgotten most of the details of that day, until the machine had pulled the memories out of her own mind. She woke up in the morning, and went into the bathroom as usual, and noticed the spotting in her panties. That was one time she had been prepared. Her mother had been very candid about her first period long before it happened. Her mom had been concerned that she might hear something from the older girls at her school, and be frightened by it. It was just a milestone in her life.

There were several other memories from early high school, including early crushes. She blushed as she looked at the console and realized her father was currently living through the day she discovered masturbation, and had her first orgasm -- her first real dates, and finally her first sexual partner. She hadn't held back any of those things.

She saw that he had just met Bob, and was going through several of their early dates, then the day he asked her to marry him -- the wedding -- and again she wondered how her father felt looking at himself walking her down the aisle. She wore his necklace for something borrowed.

The last memory was the day her son had been born.

A few moments later, the machine beeped to indicate its cycle had completed. Her father opened his eyes; the look he gave her was one she would remember for the rest of her life. For the first time in his life she saw peace within his beautiful eyes. The itch had been scratched; and she saw perfect contentment.

"Thank you, Melissa. I love you."
 
 
Epilogue
 
 
Her father survived through the weekend, and had been fairly alert on Saturday when the boys were able to visit. On Sunday he slipped into a coma, and passed away later in the evening.

When the minister finished his prayers at the grave site, Melissa dropped a rose and her memory device into his coffin.

When her project supervisors at the research facility next asked her about her progress she showed them a set of burned out circuits and told them that the latest test had failed; she would have to go back to the drawing board on the design, but expected complete success in the very near future.

Copyright (c) 2009. All Rights Reserved.

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Comments

Your gift comes at an opportune time...

Andrea Lena's picture

...this has to be one of the most precious stories I've ever read; would that we all could have daughters as thoughtful and sensitive as Melissa...As wonderful as her gift was to her father, she herself was truly the greatest gift he could ever receive. Weeping like the child inside me has longed for that moment we all wish to share, that some have dared, and some yet shall share. And this story is a blessed gift I shall treasure as well. Thank you.

I came across this today via the random feature...it comes at an opportune time once again. I was and will be most blessed by the relationship between daughter and father...very sweet and tender, and worthy of more than a few tears, yes? This remains, not only one of my favorites for the competition then, but for the whole year, because when it's all said and one, it really is about relationship and love. Thanks once again, Kristy, for this story and especially for your friendship.

She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Today And Tomorrow

Beautifully written story.

It's truly amazing the number of gadgets and gizmos that were first conceived of by science fiction authors that not only turned into reality, but have been long surpassed by what our technology can now do.

Yeah, we still don't have flying cars and time machines, but have you seen the way people drive?

What a wonderful

sweet story Kristine, Thank you so much for posting it..... I'd better go now,I've tears in my eyes, And i can't find my tissues... Now i know i left them around here somewhere...

Kirri

Beautiful story

A gentle tale of love and empathy, beautifully told. To feel the growing up of the child and the woman is something of which many of us are robbed by fate.

I admire those who provide emotional and/or financial support.

Susie

Very Sweet

Very Sweet........ BRAVO!!!!!!!!

Her Gift

Made his life more complete than anything else. Only she knows the price paid. But it was well worth it.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Kristine, A very, very

Kristine,
A very, very interesting and sweet story of true love between daughter and father. Soemday technology may actually be able to do this. Kudos to you, Jan

sweetly sad

This one's short but powerfully emotional.

* * * * *

joannebarbarella's picture

That's FIVE BOXES OF KLEENEX. Lovely story,
Joanne

simple

kristina l s's picture

elegant, beautiful. What a brilliant idea and rare gift that would not have been easy to do and perhaps more valuable for that. Really well done Kristine. Funny, I had an idea for this challenge, sort of hospital based too, have to see if I can get it down, you've nudged me.

Kristina

She gave

ALISON
'the gift of her life to her father before he passed on
to his eternal life.What a beautiful story that made us all
weep-----but tears of joy or sorrow??Or perhaps a bit of
both.Just beautiful.Thank you so much,may the Good Lord
love and bless you.Alison.

ALISON

Great Gift

terrynaut's picture

That was one great gift. It was great on so many levels.

I'm trying to wake up from a recent nap so I read this. It zipped by so quickly, I didn't have a chance to cry. But I would've cried if it was longer. It's a beautiful, slightly bittersweet story.

Thanks very much.

- Terry

Thanks to everyone for comments on The Gift

KristineRead's picture

My thanks to everyone that has contacted me regarding The Gift, through comments here, private PM's and over in the chat room.

I definitely appreciate it!

This story was inspired by a song from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, sung by Quasimoto as he looks down upon the villagers.

And out there
Living in the sun
Give me one day out there
All I ask is one
To hold forever

Out there
Where they all live unaware
What I'd give
What I'd dare
Just to live one day out there

That song has always resonated with me. Even though the movie itself was not one of their best.

Thinking about how Melissa could give her father one day out there, led to The Gift.

I hope that I won't diminish my own story though by issuing a word of caution; Cindy and I had a very nice, long discussion about this this morning in the Chat room. The device that Melissa invented, used as she did is wonderful, but as with any technology there is huge risk for abuse of such a device. We should all be careful what we wish for.

I will say for anyone that thought of it, that Melissa is aware of the danger, and as you may note did not report her success at the end to her supervisors. I included that part of the epilogue intentionally because of that concern.

In any case, I am delighted that the story which is about the love and empathy of a daughter for her father, hit the right chords as I had intended them to.

Hugs to all,

Kristy

A twin comment

With two of the stories by the same author, Kristine Roland. Two marvelous works, separated by years and yet resonating throughout the time: Two Roads and The Gift.

Both stories touch upon the choices made and the results. Would you give the life you lived, for the life where you are what you know you are supposed to have been? And if you could, yet wouldn't, was there a way to make both? Each tale is precious in its own unique way. Together... Together they touch the minds and souls with a quiet grace and tenderness.

Faraway

On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Wow, thanks so much for this

KristineRead's picture

Wow, thanks so much for this comment!

I'm glad that you enjoyed both stories, though not intended as bookends, they do both speak to a theme that is very important to me. I myself, like Keven and "the father" have made my choices and would not wish away the love and support that I have from my wife and son.

Hugs,

Kristy

I still love this story

You directed me to it when I wrote "Memories are made of these" and I liked it then. It still moves me today.

Dorothycolleen

DogSig.png

Thank you for this story

Wendy Jean's picture

it resonated deeply, as very few do. I just reread it for the second time, I think I enjoyed it even more.