The scratched, worn-out, yellowing wooden box sat crookedly on dining table. The years had not been kind to the fascinating artifact that flooded the thoughts of Charlotte Fox for years on end. Finally, though, finally she would find out what was inside. Her suffering would end.
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Eighteen candles flickered up at me. My eighteenth birthday. Eighteen, never been in a relationship, never touched an illegal substance and spent most of my free time sleeping. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was the absolute most boring teenager on the face of the Earth. I concluded that I was probably in the running, and turned my back to my cake, ready to search out my friends in the obnoxiously large and noisy crowd.
I didn’t even get two steps away before someone gripped my shoulder and spun me around. “Charlotte!”
It was just Uncle Graham. “Hey, Uncle Graham! Call me Charley, okay? What’s up?”
“Whatever you say, birthday girl. Mind if I steal you away for a minute?” I glanced away from my uncle’s face and towards my small group of friends who were waving me over anxiously. I turned back to my Uncle.
“Sorry, Uncle. My friends need me for a minute. I’ll come find you?” I offered apologetically, smiling at him before rushing away. My three closest friends were sitting against the far back brick wall of my backyard, all looking ill at ease.
The tallest, darkest guy I know was the surprising exception. William beamed down at me, looking like he was ready to bear hug the shit out of me. I grin sheepishly at him as he stares at me and look to my other friends for an explanation.
“What Will means to say,” Kate interrupted, “is what’s in the box?”
I pat William on the chest and sit down next to Smith. “I still don’t know. Mum says we’ll open it at midnight, like some big finale thing or something.” I explain, picking at my nails. The suspense was just about killing me.
Kte fidgeted around in her pocket before chucking something in my lap. I picked up the small, unwrapped box and examined at her questioningly. She tilted her head toward Smith. “It’s from him. He’s too much of a wimp to give it to you himself.”
I studied the box. It was long and rectangular, about the size of a family chocolate bar and made of cardboard. I glanced at Smith. “Open it, already. Jesus Christ.” He grunted, his face flushed red. I pulled out the tabs and tipped it upside down. A torrent of photos splashed into my lap.
Gathering them all up, my eyes started to water. All these photos, memories of high school. I threw my arms around Smith’s shoulders. “You cheesy little shit. You shouldn’t have.”
He pushed me away gently, smiling. “You needed some inspiration for the yearbook. Maybe this will help.”
Three thunderous popping sounds pulled me out of my conversation. A rainbow of fireworks exploded against the dark backdrop of the night sky, followed by a rumble of cheering from the two-hundred plus people celebrating my birthday.
“Wow!” Kate exclaimed, resting her arms on her knees, followed by her head. “Pretty cool party.”
I rolled my eyes and patted Will on the head, getting to my feet. He shook his hair back into place. “You guys are super boring. I got to go see my uncle.” I checked my phone for the time. “Meet my by the garage at 9:30.” That gave my twenty-five minutes to talk with my uncle and pester my Mum to let me have some alcohol.
It didn’t take me long to find Uncle Graham, who was leaning against a tree only a few meters away, watching the sky. I strolled up and stood next to him. “Hey again, Uncle.”
Uncle Graham was the eldest of my Dad’s brothers and it wasn’t hard to tell. His face was constantly crinkled with smile-lines and his black hair was marbled with plenty of grey. Usually, Graham looked the picture of joyful jolliness and at family gatherings such as this he could generally be found wandering around making merry and telling bad jokes. For some reason, though, he seemed solemn and distant tonight.
“Charley! I almost thought you’d stood me up!” He elbowed me softly in the ribs and I chuckled, pushing his arm away. “I wanted to talk to you about your midnight present.”
I frowned. “The box?” Graham nodded. “What about it?”
“Do you know what is inside it?”
I frowned harder. “Of course not. I’ve tried to get that freaking thing open since I was in kindergarten. Shut tight.”
Uncle Graham glared back up at the night sky. His somber mood was beginning to worry me. “When you open the box, I want you to show me what’s inside, Charley.”
I glowered up at him. What is he playing at? Why does he care so much about what’s in the box? “Why should I?” I demanded, crossing my arms defensively. He continued staring at the sky, his expression rigid.
“That box is mine.”
