The 13th Gift: Part Two. Joanne Smith Huist

Terry arrives alone, carrying Christmas stockings filled with candy, small toys, and gadgets for the kids. Though he has been my friend for more than twenty years, Rick was our connection. My husband’s absence makes the conversation between us awkward.

      “I remember when I first met him,” Terry says, still standing by the door. “I went over to his house on a Friday night with his brother Tom. Rick was sitting cross-legged on the floor in between two huge stereo speakers. He was bouncing up and down to the beat of the music. I’ve never laughed so hard. I just loved him.”

      Megan sits on the couch beaming, her large smile encouraging Terry to share more tales of her dad.

      “Please, let me take your coat. Sit down,” I say.

      Terry shakes his head.

      “I can’t stay long.”