Remember Christmas the first year we dated? I gave you a pot of Christmas red, and you had just come back from the translation center, empty-handed, and said in your own defense: ‘What Christmas gift! Wouldn’t a kiss be more sincere?
I ludicrously accepted your most sincere Christmas gift that year, thank you! It was my first kiss.
Do you remember the Christmas of the second year we dated? I sent a dozen roses to your office in Taipei, and you still didn’t respond in kind, but you said on the phone: ‘What Christmas gift! Wouldn’t it be more sincere to sing me a love song?’ I was speechless as I listened to the warmth coming out of your quiet voice.
Do you remember the third Christmas of our relationship? I sent a string of golden bells to your policy studio, and you, dragging your cronies, brought back a message in your own defense, telling me: ‘What a Christmas present! Wouldn’t it have been more sincere to tell you that I was still thinking of you?
I languish, returning a reassuring smile to your crony.
But… thinking to myself… it’s been two years since I’ve seen you. Do you really still think of me? With all the beautiful women in Taipei, do I really still have a place in your heart?
Remember the fourth Christmas of our ‘kosher’ relationship? I snuck outside your office window and watched from afar as you fought for your political future. With your suit more than straight, you were no longer the young man who wore a plaid shirt and worked in a translation hall four years ago. In the cold wind, I watched your transformation, so relieved that I shed tears. Unconsciously, I stood there for two hours…
I don’t expect you to think of me, and I don’t expect a Christmas present from you. With the election coming up, your being the youngest staffer and proposing policies for the candidate you support that target our generation is the best Christmas present I can get…
I shouldn’t have bothered you. Maybe you’ve already met someone… Maybe you’ve already forgotten me. Your phone number changed, your address changed. I could only find your office by following the trivial and insignificant information about you in newspapers and magazines.
I believe that one day in the future, you will become a sensitive figure in the political arena, the mainstay, you have always had the posture of tomorrow’s star, vertebrae into the bag of courage. I also believe that one day in the future, you will be with the movie and television celebrities of a super diva composed a love song, a good pair of groom and daughter. And me, I won’t hate. Because since that first Christmas, knowing your political ambitions, I’ve told myself that I’m the only one who cares about what I once had. It’s just that I want to tell you that I really, still love you.
I remember the other day, if we were still dating, it was the fifth Christmas. I told you through your family in Taichung, ‘I want to give you a Christmas present.’
I didn’t expect a response from you, but, on Christmas Day, you returned my call with a gusto, inviting me to the same coffee shop where we had our date five Christmases ago. You smiled mysteriously, naughty like the sharp-edged boy five years ago. You told me: ‘I’m going to give you a Christmas present too!
You took out an envelope and I opened it… It was a ‘marriage certificate’… You told me with a smile, ‘I’m sorry! I’m always too busy! But there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you! I’ve often wanted to contact you… but I was afraid you wouldn’t understand me… Will you marry me?
Just like Christmas of the fourth year, I cried, and the falling tears stained the word ‘marriage’ on the marriage certificate.
You touched my shoulder and asked with a smile, ‘Don’t you have a Christmas present for me too?’
Yes! I have a gift for you too. I also took out an envelope… and gave it to you… You opened it… and similarly… cried… tears stained the words ‘Wedding Invitation’… Next year… next Christmas, will you bring a Christmas present to my newborn child?