Alan and his brothers are out hunting for Christmas presents for each other.
Alan’s first and only memory of his mother is of Christmas Day. It’s gone soft around the edges and no longer can he picture her face without the blue tint of a holophoto. He doesn’t remember her words, just the excited cadence of her voice as she carries him into a room full of light and wonder, his brothers jostling one another and chattering excitedly on the floor.
A brightly wrapped box is pressed into his hands.
“Rip!” yells Gordon, bouncing up and down. “Rip it open!”
Alan rips and in his small hands is a toy fish – bright orange and white stripes – the same fish that Gordon has spent months jealously guarding from his baby brother. Alan lifts it to his mouth and starts to chew on its tail. He can hear his mother’s laughter at Gordon’s cry of dismay.
“Ta,” he mumbles around the plastic.
***
Alan looked fondly at the old fish, still treasured after so many years. It was early summer on Tracy Island according to the calendar, although the seasons has morphed into new names of dry and rainy since moving to the tropics. The true mark of summer, was the annual Christmas outing. A solid 24 hours of no rescues, no emergencies and time with his brothers to purchase Christmas gifts. Alan looked forward to this day every year.
“Are you coming Alan?” called Virgil from the door. “We’re waiting for you.”
Alan scrambled up and grinned at his older brother. “I’m coming! Don’t leave without me!”
Racing ahead to Thunderbird Two, he waved goodbye to Kayo and Grandma Tracy and dived into his seat behind John. John chuckled and handed him a sealed envelope.
“Please don’t get me cream cheese like someone did last year,” he said. “I don’t particularly want to be a recipient of a science experiment that should have been kept in the fridge.”
Gordon pouted beside Alan. “The communal fridge? The fridge that everyone uses? The fridge where anyone can eat presents that are just innocently lying there?” he said. “Come on Johnny, I couldn’t risk that. And how come you get to know who’s getting your present? Can’t you give me a hint?”
John considered for a moment. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Alan laughed as he peeked in the envelope. As expected, he could see John’s name written on a piece of paper inside.
***
The round robin gift tradition has been a foundation of Tracy family Christmases for years. Alan loves every aspect of it. He loves finding out his gift recipient and the flight to New Zealand, or Australia, or Singapore, or (on one memorable occasion) Chile. He adores his four brothers beside him and the way they all disperse on arrival, sometimes alone and sometimes with a partner, trying to find that perfect gift until they all meet up again for lunch and spend the afternoon together. Gordon always tries to rifle through the purchases and Alan loves the exasperated affection of their shared older brothers as they chase him away.
“Don’t even think about it,” says Virgil, slapping away Gordon’s hand. “I’m not giving anything to you.”
“Would you tell me if you were?” asks Gordon. “You have to say that.”
“Where’s John got to?” interrupts Scott, looking around him.
“We lost him about two hours ago,” says Virgil with a shrug.
Alan remembers seeing him slip into a bookshop just after lunch with a pinched look. He doesn’t remember seeing him come back out.
“Every year,” mutters Scott as he turns around and walks back down the street. Gordon pulls out his communicator and starts to talk to John’s inevitable answering message.
Alan and Virgil exchange a glance and follow them. They know to keep an eye on John with his tendency to disappear when he’s had his fill of people, the notion of telling someone never occurring to him. Alan offers up the name of the bookshop where he last saw John, but they find him in a science museum, telling a small group of children with round eyes about black holes. He appears utterly unrepentant when he catches sight of Scott, tapping his foot and hunched over in the archway. Alan wishes he could be so calm at the sight of an irritated Scott. They let him finish his impromptu lecture.
“Communication, John,” growls Scott as John waves goodbye to the small and beaming children.
Gordon obnoxiously calls the communicator once again to demonstrate that yes, it is in fact fully functional.
John absent-mindedly swipes the beeping icon on his wrist away, and Alan grins at his older brother. He hears Virgil’s steady laughter and is reminded of his mother.
***
One present from one brother at Christmas was the rule their mother had insisted upon, brought over from her own childhood. Alan has come to treasure the morning where each of his brothers gets the wholly undivided attention of the others as the gifts are opened.
“Thanks Alan,” said John with a small smile, as he carefully flicks through the comic book Alan had chosen for him. An old Tintin story, one that John himself used to read to Alan on a tablet.
“Anytime John,” said Alan, feeling the warm glow at his brother’s appreciation. “Better than a cream cheese bagel at least.”
Gordon huffs a little and waves him off. “Virgil,” he called. “Your turn.”
“Merry Christmas Alan,” said Virgil, sitting down next to him.
Alan takes the gift and jokingly shakes it before laying it down in his lap. His brothers watch as he pries the tape from the paper. A framed photograph rests in his hands, a real photograph of his father standing behind his mother and a beaming three-year-old with a fish in his mouth. His heart constricts in his chest as he stares, drinking in the sparkle in his mother’s brown eyes, the strawberry blonde of her hair. He feels Gordon sinking into the seat on his other side, pressing into him and slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“She’d be so proud of you Ally,” says Scott in a thick voice.
Alan draws his knees up to his chest and hugs the frame.
“Thanks Virgil,” he says, eyes and voice wet. “I love it.”
He knows his brothers can hear his unspoken words and he loves them all the more fiercely for it.
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