Christmas and Other Things I Hate

by Elizabeth McGivern

  “Ha bloody ha,” she replied, “hurry up and eat them before I scoff the lot.”

  I dug into the snack and had to stop myself from eating them all in record speed when I realised I had managed to eat most of the bowl.

  “Greedy mare,” said Helen, with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I’m going to put on some toast and there’s bound to be more snacks in those cupboards. If you haven’t guessed yet: I’m a feeder.”

  I lost count of the amount of trips to the kitchen she made but by the time she’d brought everything edible she could find out to the sofa I was fit to burst.

  My eyes were getting heavier with every bite and I think I fell asleep mid-chew.

  I don’t know how long I had been sleeping but when I opened my eyes, the room was quiet. The movie was over but the television had been left on, as had all the decorations.

  I called out Helen’s name but there was no answer.

  I pushed the duvet off my lap and decided to explore the other rooms.

  There was no sign of her in the kitchen or the bathroom but I stopped short of bursting into her bedroom. I knocked on the door and called her name again but there was no response. I pressed my ear against the door to try and see if I could hear her snoring but it was eerily quiet.

  “Helen, if you can hear me, I’m coming in,” I said, “I’m not being a creep, I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

  I pushed open the door and was surprised to see the room completely empty.

  I had expected it to be another assault on my eyes, with decorations everywhere but it was stripped bare.

  I knew she was leaving on some mysterious trip but there weren’t even bags anywhere to be found. I looked at the clock and it was 7am.

  “Where on earth could she be?” I asked the empty room.

  The more the quiet lasted, the more unnerved I felt at being alone, in a strange flat, with no money and no phone.

  I was just about to really panic, when I heard the jingle of keys in the door followed by several loud voices, with unmistakable Scottish accents.

  I rushed into the hallway and was faced with three men, laden down with bags, as if they were returning from a trip.

  “Who the hell are you?” I said, as I tried to make myself sound much braver than what I was feeling.

  “Excuse me?” one man replied, “I think we should be asking who the hell you are and what are you doing in our flat?”

  Chapter 4

  The ground felt like it was falling away and I willed myself to wake up from this nightmare but instead I slid down the wall and onto the floor.

  “I can’t breathe,” I said.

  One of them handed me a paper bag and told me to breathe into it while the other two tried to navigate their way past the snowmen in the hallway, without knocking everything over with their luggage.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, as I handed back the bag.

  “I was staying here with my friend, Helen, and now I’ve woken up, all her things are gone and you’re telling me this isn’t even her flat?”

  “Helen Childers?” he asked.

  I searched my memory and realised I didn’t even know this woman’s surname.

  “I don’t know, she was helping me out after I got mugged.”

  “She’s renting us this place for the holidays,” he replied, “We told her we’d be arriving today – well, it was meant to be tonight, but we got an earlier flight and she’d already posted us keys so we decided to chance it and come early. She said the place would be empty from the 24th so you caught us by surprise, sorry.”

  “Yeah, sorry for that introduction,” called one of the men in the other room. I’m a bit cranky after travelling.”

  “Do you have a number for her?” I asked, “She’s basically the only person I know here and I’m a bit worried about her.”

  “Is she all there?” he replied, as he tapped the side of his head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she’s either do-lally or just super generous. She basically gave us this place for our whole stay under the condition that we donated some money to charity instead of payment.”

  “Yeah, she’s really generous that way. Do you have the cash there?” I asked, coolly.

  “Not much, €50 just.”

  “That’s perfect, give it to me and I’ll get it to her chosen charity.”

  I neglected to mention that the charity was my petrol fund and quickly stuffed the cash into my pocket.

  “I have her number,” called the other man.

  “Great, give her a call,” I shouted in.

  We all stood around, awkwardly listening to the sound of the unanswered call. I don’t know why but I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that Helen was in trouble.

  “Do you have her email address?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “That’s probably her login in for one of those ‘find my phone’ apps, yeah?” I continued, “Do any of you have it and we could see where her phone is, maybe track her down?”

  “Yeah but we’d need her password and unless you’re some sort of super hacker then I guess that idea is pretty much dead in the water,” replied the guy with the phone.

  “Leave that to me, you just find the email and I’ll see what I can do about the password.”

  I walked back into the empty bedroom in the vain hope that there was some sort of clue lying around about where she was or perhaps a handy piece of paper with the word: ‘password’ on it.

  My search was fruitless, so I joined the guys in the living room and tried to see what I could spy there.

  “It’s loaded up,” he said, “There’s three chances and then it locks you out of the program. What’s the password?”

  “Why don’t you try ‘password’. I read somewhere that about 80% of people use it as a password,” suggested the third man.

  “I can’t see that being a real statistic, but what the hell,” I replied.

  The phone buzzed, it was a wrong guess.

  I scanned the room and realised that this woman was completely Christmas obsessed. It was a long shot but it was the only idea I had so I asked them to try ‘Christmas’.

  The phone buzzed again at my wrong guess.

  With one chance left, the guys remained quiet and watched as I paced the floor.

  Just as I was about to give up I noticed a frame on the shelf above the television.

  It was a photo of a smiling woman, who had the same kind face as Helen, only older. On the other side of the frame, there was a poem. I read it to myself and couldn’t quite believe what I was reading.

  “Try ‘Christine’,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “We’re in!” he shouted, “It’s trying to locate her phone now.”

  I shook myself and tried to concentrate on the situation at hand.

  “Shit,” he said.

  “What?” I asked, “Where is she? What’s wrong?”

  “She’s on Ha’Penny Bridge. That can’t be good. Will I phone the police?”

  “Why? Because your landlady is walking over a bridge? I don’t think that’s much cause for alarm, do you?”

  “She’s not walking anywhere, she’s standing there.”

  “Ok, time for a little alarm. How long will it take for me to get there?”

  “How fast can you run?” he asked.

  “Look, don’t phone anyone. This all might just be me worrying over nothing. She’s a Christmas nut so maybe she just goes to this bridge on Christmas Eve and watches the sunrise. Let me get to her and I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  “What if she jumps and we could have prevented it by phoning the emergency services right now?” he replied.

  I couldn’t deny I was worried that this was her plan but I managed to convince them to give me 15 minutes, if I didn’t use her phone to contact them in that time, they could phone whoever they wanted.

  I pulled on my coat and shoes and took off towards the bridge. My
sense of direction was awful at the best of time and I depended on my phone GPS for even the shortest of journeys but I absorbed their directions as best as I could and ran out the door.

  On the run there I tried to convince myself that I’d built up this whole scenario in my head but I couldn’t deny seeing that picture and reading the poem.

  I knew in my gut that Helen was in danger of doing something stupid and like it or not, it was up to me to try and help.

  I ignored the growing pain in my side as I ran through the streets. I was thankful it was still early and there weren’t many worker bees filling the streets, so far. I did get a few strange looks from those I jogged past. I suppose I did look like a strange sight – a jogger in boots and heavy black coat. I didn’t exactly scream ‘gym bunny’ with this look.

  The bridge was just ahead and I was happy to see that there wasn’t a crowd of concerned bystanders hanging around; just people going about their lives. As I walked up to the crest of the bridge, I spotted her.

  She was standing in the middle of it, leaning on the railings, looking at the water.

  I walked until I was standing beside her but didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. I leaned on the railings next to her and looked out onto the water.

  It took a few seconds but she looked shocked when she realised that it was me standing beside her.

  I turned to face her, and noticed the blotched red of tear-stained cheeks.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “How’d you find me?” she asked.

  “I’m a super-sleuth.”

  “Really?”

  “No, with the help of three Scottish men whom I left standing in your living room. If you could text them and say everything is fine, that would be great. Otherwise we’re going to have emergency services here in about three minutes.”

  She took out her phone and seemed surprised to find the missed calls and several messages from her guests.

  “So, when you offered to let me stay, did you happen to forget that you’d already rented out your flat to a bunch of Scottish guys?” I asked, trying to bring some humour to the moment.

  When she didn’t answer, I added, “You had us worried.”

  “Worried? You lot don’t even know me. You think I’m some Christmas nut, and those ones just need a roof over their head so they can get pissed in Dublin over the holidays.

  “That’s true, I do think you’re a Christmas nut and I think if you’re planning on re-enacting George Bailey’s idea here on this bridge, I can tell you here and now I am not about to earn my angel wings by jumping in after you.”

  She laughed through her tears and I took the opportunity to put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against my side.

  We both continued to look out at the water and I waited for her to speak but she stayed quiet.

  “I saw your mum’s picture,” I said, “I read the poem, ‘I’ll just wait in heaven’, it’s a sweet poem.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good one,” she replied, as she used her sleeve as a tissue, “There were some really naff ones, but that one was sweet. She died last Christmas Eve. Cancer.”

  I squeezed her a little tighter and hoped that it would be enough of a comfort for her to feel safe enough to talk more about her mum.

  “She loved Christmas,” continued Helen, “It was her absolute favourite time of year and I have been dreading this first proper one without her. I pretty much ignored everything Christmas-related going on around me, last year. She was my best friend.

  “I tried, I really tried to get back to normal after she died but the more time went on the more I realised that there was no normal without her, there was no point.

  “Still, I didn’t want to just check out without giving it a good try. I gave myself a deadline to convince myself that life was worth living. Today is the deadline.”

  “Saying as we’re standing on a bridge, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that you haven’t quite convinced yourself that it’s worth sticking around?” I said, “I just have to tell you that you absolutely shouldn’t do this. I think this world is a pretty shitty place at times but there’s always some good in it. I mean, you’ve got to admit that the universe must have something planned for you. What’s the chance that you would meet a mess like me on a plane and we’d end up here together? Maybe you were meant to meet me and realise that life might be crap at the minute but at least you’re not me?” I continued, “Ok, bad jokes aside, I just think that you’re not giving yourself enough time to work through losing your mum and you just can’t jump and end it all. I won’t let you. If you jump, I jump and I really don’t want to bloody jump.”

  I was surprised that she let me get through my impromptu speech without objecting but once I finished she started to laugh.

  “Have I missed something?” I asked.

  “I’m not jumping anywhere,” she replied, “but I’m touched that you’ve come here to save my life.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing in the middle of a bridge, crying? It doesn’t exactly paint a picture of mental stability.”

  “I had planned to jump,” she admitted, “The idea of jumping off this bloody bridge and being with my mum was the only thing getting me through these last few weeks.

  “Then I started noticing all the Christmas stuff and I figured, as it was going to be my last, I should probably just get into the spirit.”

  “Yeah, and then some,” I said, “Sorry, ignore me, please keep talking.”

  “I got rid of all my stuff, donated all my money and clothes to the cancer charity that helped my mum at the end of her life and rented the flat to those guys so I couldn’t back out of my plan and hide out at home. All that was left to do was to head over the water and say my ‘good-byes’ to a few friends in London. I was all set.”

  “So why are you this side of the barrier?”

  “You,” she replied, matter-of-factly, “I realised I couldn’t just abandon you in the middle of Dublin with no way home. My mum wouldn’t approve of me leaving a damsel in distress. I feel closer to my mum here and I just had to let her know I’d be a bit late to meet her. I hate the thought of her being on her own up there at Christmas.”

  “You know she’s probably not alone,” I replied, “Look. I’m not going to talk shit about angels and heaven because I just don’t believe in any of that.”

  “Then don’t bother saying anything,” she said, “This is what I believe, it gives me comfort and I don’t need you to crap all over it, today of all days.”

  “No, wait, that’s not what I meant,” I continued, “I don’t think that she’s just dead in the ground or like worm food.”

  “Please continue, Jane, this is massively comforting.”

  “I’m going to ignore that sarcasm and try and explain this better,” I said, “I meant that I don’t believe that people go up to heaven when they leave. I believe that a soul, or whatever you want to call it, re-joins all the atoms in the universe and becomes part of everything around us. You know like people say loved ones don’t leave you, well this way you know they’re never far away. She’s like stardust.”

  I’d never told anyone about my theory of the afterlife and I was feeling especially vulnerable as I waited for her to say something.

  “Stardust?” she said, eventually, “I like that.”

  “You don’t have to feel guilty for living, Helen, I’d suspect your mum would be a lot angrier at you for throwing your life away.”

  “I told you, I’m not jumping - today.”

  “Yeah, because you have to help me. But what about tomorrow and the next day or a week from now? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and I’m not going to let you just give up.”

  “You’re not going to let me?” she replied with a laugh, “And how are you going to stop me?”

  “I’m going to help you, you’re the one that’s been telling me that I have to find a new path, well I’ve found it.”

  “You
mean I’m your new pet project? That’s not exactly a career.”

  “No, you’re coming with me to my parents’ place for Christmas. For one thing I’m not leaving you to spend Christmas on your own, or with a bunch of Scottish dudes you don’t know. You’re going to give me one more day on this planet and I’m going to convince you of all the reasons that you should stay.”

  “What if you don’t?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it – sorry, that was a pretty poor analogy.”

  I took her hand in mine and led her off the bridge, and towards her flat.

  “There’s an obvious flaw in your plan,” she said, “We still have no way of getting to your home.”

  “That’s all under control, I robbed a blind man on the way here.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, just a very trusting holiday maker; think of it this way: he now has €50 less to spend on wrecking his liver so basically I’m saving his life. That’s two in one day and it’s not even 8am, I think I’m on a roll.”

  “Yeah? How about we avoid any more drama that will make it three.”

  “Agreed, we’ve got a whole lot of living to do instead.”

  “One more day, ok?”

  “One more day.”

  Chapter 5

  We chatted normally on the walk back to her flat and I couldn’t help but feel like this was the wrong approach. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. She obviously needed help, but I didn’t know whether I was the right person to give it to her or it would be best left to a medical professional.

  I held onto the belief that maybe the urge to end her life was waning if something like helping a stranded stranger was enough to give her pause and stick around.

  If I could give her more time then maybe she would be able to convince herself that maybe there was more to live for than just getting me home in time for Christmas dinner.

  In a way, I was glad that I was caught up in Helen’s story, it meant I didn’t have time to overthink or dread spending the next few days with my parents or my sister and Lucas.