The Perfect Present
By Susan Condon
Listen to a reading of this story by Susan:
It’s dark when Eliza pulls back the duvet and creeps from the warm bed.
Using her mobile as a torch, she unlocks the shed and breathes a sigh of relief when the bike is still where she left it the day before. It cost a small fortune. Everything from her Bisto tin and then some. But it’s worth it, she thinks, wheeling it into the utility room where she ties a huge blue bow onto the handlebars.
“Breakfast is ready in ten,” she calls up the stairs, hoping she can be heard over the thunder of the shower.
As she pours tea into his favourite cup, Johnny appears in the doorway.
“That's some breakfast for the birthday boy,” he grins, spearing a sausage. He wraps his huge arms around her, squeezing her in a bear hug. He holds her tight. So tight, it’s difficult to breathe. His aftershave claws at her nostrils, making her gag.
Wriggling around, she kisses him on the mouth, then breathes the words, “Happy Birthday, Johnny!”
He breaks away. “So, where's my present?” he asks, stepping back and looking around him. His brow furrows, his eyes mere slits.
“Follow me,” she says, taking one of his large hands.
“Wow! That's some beauty,” says Johnny. He turns towards her, his voice accusatory, “but where did the money come from?”
“I’ve been saving. For ages,” she says. She runs a hand over her abdomen. “You said you wanted to lose a few pounds—”
A scowl tarnishes his handsome face.
“Before the baby arrives,” she rushes on, running her fingers along his biceps. “Not that you need to. Obviously! But I heard you say to your mother, right after you told her our news, that you wanted to be super-fit for when your son arrives.” She cocks her head to one side and whispers, breathlessly, “and, to be honest, I couldn’t think of anything else to get you. After all, what do you get for the man who has absolutely everything?”
“You're right,” he says, his smile returning. “It’s the perfect present. I might even cycle into the office today.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she says, looking flustered. “I didn’t get you a helmet.”
“Do I look like someone who wears a helmet?” Johnny scoffs, running his fingers through his damp hair.
Her body relaxes. The tension leaves it, for the moment.
She’s food shopping when a text arrives.
It’s done.
Eliza removes the sim card. She bins it. Then she bins the burner phone.
Later, two Gardai arrive at the door to inform her of the hit-and-run. Unfortunately, there were no suspects. It appeared to have happened early in the morning, on a quiet bend, while Johnny was on his way to work.
They escort her to the morgue so that she can formally identify his body.
“I’m so sorry,” the guard says nodding towards her bump. “They’ll never get to meet.”
“I know,” Eliza replies. A tear rolls down her cheek as the tension leaves forever…
Susan Condon is a 2024 Irish Writers Centre National Mentoring Programme winner. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from Dublin City University and previously studied writing in NUI Maynooth and the Irish Writers Centre.
Susan’s short stories and poems have won many awards, including first prize in the Jonathan Swift Award. Writing has been internationally published in: Washing Windows IV, Boyne Berries, Flash Fiction Magazine (USA), Flash Flood Journal, The Flash Fiction Press, Live Encounters (Indonesia), My Weekly (UK) and Spelk, and anthologised in a number of outlets, such as Ireland’s Own, Circle & Square and The Lea-Green Down.