Day 2: The Gift – by Elizabeth Averay
They say it is better to give than receive. But at Christmas we do both. Having the whole family over to my place this year, not only do I have to have the house and garden ready, I need to cook the food, provide drinks, extra rubbish bags, extra chairs and tables as well as plates and cutlery. Every year whomever is the host has to decorate front and back yards, along with inside and outside the house, and it has to be better than the year before. Then add present shopping to that list of things to do and my friends plus coworkers wonder why I’m stressed!
5 days til Christmas, the gardens and house are all decked out. I have borrowed tables and chairs from friends that are spending the holidays with their families and have started cooking the finger foods that can be frozen. In the backyard I have placed a marquee. The outside looks like a gingerbread house, inside there is a Santa’s workshop full of benches with rolls of wrapping paper, ribbons and bows for the presents. Stools for the elves to sit or stand on and a much larger chair that is soft and comfy-looking for Santa to sit on. There are pictures of the North Pole, snowmen, reindeer, and Mrs Claus scattered around, as well as a large sack full of gifts for the kids of the family.
Christmas Day: everyone is here. Grandparents, parents, siblings, their partners, and the kids. All up, twenty eight people including myself. Most of them are very impressed with my work. Aunt Maggie and Uncle Alf have told me that the decorations are childish, the food underdone – and not enough of it – though they both had four helpings each. And they don’t like the drinks, though they sneaked five bottles into their bags! All this complaining from them – the funny thing is, Maggie and Alf weren’t even invited! They just showed up. (Their only son kicked them out of his house last Christmas for complaining about everything – I have to remember to thank cousin Sean making them my problem.)
When everyone had eaten and cleared the dishes away we went outside. The kids instantly saw the gingerbread house and raced each other to be the first to reach it.
Leaving the family to it I sneak inside my home. Just to have a few minutes to myself. Hiding out in my bathroom all I can think is: right, you have your gifts – now leave me alone!
Back aching, eyes bleary from an all-nighter cooking for today’s lunch, I’ve had enough.
I can hear the kids screaming and shouting from the gingerbread marquee and the cry of the babies from hunger – or tiredness, I don’t know. Groaning with resignation I heave myself to my feet, splash water on my face; as I dry my face I realise there is no sound now. Everything is silent.
Running to the backyard I freeze in stunned shock. The marquee is gone – not a trace of it remains! All of the family’s cars are in my drive and parked on the street, their bags still in my living room, but no sign of the people they belong to.
Jumping out of my skin as my phone rings I fumble it out of my pocket. It’s Sean. ‘Merry Christmas, Cousin! Did you get my gift?’
‘Well, if you mean Aunt Maggie and Uncle Alf showing up without an invite and complaining about everything, then yes?’
He laughs uproariously and says, ‘No! My gift to you was making the ungrateful members of the family disappear. The Marquee I hired for you was the Make A Christmas Wish Come True company. My wish was to make them disappear. Merry Christmas, cuz! You’re now free of our horrible family – and so am I.’
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