The Other Present

by

Leo McAlbert

It had been snowing heavily, that Christmas Eve, as I found my way over to George Kusaki's house at the other end of the campus.

Just as I crossed the street, I slipped in the new-fallen snow and nearly got run over by a truck. I was still shaking from the shock when I rang the doorbell. Kusaki opened the door immediately.

"I didn't think you would make it." he said.

"Oh!" I said, "You saw?"

"I knew you had to do something before coming here, he said.

"But not that!" I said, "I mean, it's the snow-slipping in the snow's an accident!"

Kusaki shrugged his shoulders and sat, very Buddha-like looking straight in front of him.

"All right, "I said, "I'll bite. What is it? The death instinct, thanatos? Where do you want me to hang my coat? In the bathroom?"

"Yes," he said. "You can put it in the closet when it stops dripping." "Can you really recognize Thanatos-the Death Instinct when you see it," I asked. (Kusaki, a psychology student, is an orthodox Freudian.) "And Eros, all-pervading Eros? Can you recognize that?"

I had shouted this from the bathroom, hoping to get above the sound of Callas coming from the hi-fi set, but Callas must have won, because there was no answer from Kusaki.

"That's your present, over there," I said, coming into the room. "Do you want to put it under the tree? Don't stand up. I'll do it for you."

"No," said Kusaki, "give it to me."

"You're not going to open it now," I said. "Why, you have to wait until at least after midnight so that it's Christmas Day. And usually, I think, they're opened the next morning."

"You think," said Kusaki, "don't you know?"

"Well, I'm Jewish," I said, sitting down next to him. "My family never celebrated Christmas."

Kusaki smiled at me.

one

12