Christmas and Other Things I Hate

by Elizabeth McGivern

  “Then why do you stay away so long?”

  “Because when I’m here I feel trapped. I don’t like who I become when I’m here. When I’m far away it’s easy to believe that it’s you guys that are the problem and make me go on like this but when I’m here I realise that maybe the problem is…me.”

  The kitchen door opened and we both stopped talking as we waited to see who had found us.

  Helen came into the room and dad made his excuses to leave so we could talk in private.

  “How’s my girlfriend this morning?” she said, with a smile.

  “Is my horrible hangover not enough punishment without the jokes?”

  “Not even close.”

  She took the mug of tea from my hands and stole a sip.

  “You make a good cuppa, but you’re a complete maniac,” she continued.

  “Yeah, I can see why you’ve got that impression. I’m not exactly the best host.”

  “Not really, but I like your family and your mum gave me these pyjamas. She said they were meant to be a present for Lucas’ sister but she wasn’t going anywhere near their house until the shame of last night was over with. Her words, not mine.”

  “You know I don’t really think we’re in a relationship nor am I in love with you, right?”

  Helen took another sip of tea and thought about her answer.

  “You mean to tell me, you’re dumping me? The woman you were madly in love with and had to tell the world about? How could you?”

  Her monotone delivery made me smile.

  “When I asked you here I really thought that I was doing something selfless and great. I was helping this poor lost woman and preventing her from doing something stupid,” I replied, “Unfortunately, from the second we left the bridge I’ve been the crazy one. I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re going to be, once you find out what your mum wants you to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She tapped her nose, keeping her secret and told me to go into the living room to open some presents as she had a call to make.

  I wanted to ask who she was trying to contact on Christmas morning but I decided, for once, I should keep my nose out of her business.

  When I returned to the living room I was handed a bag of presents from ‘Santa’ and I spent the next half hour dutifully opening the gifts and looking suitably grateful enough that my mum didn’t murder me.

  While we cleared up the discarded wrapping paper, Helen came into the room and it was obvious she had been crying.

  “Are you ok?” I asked.

  “Of course she’s not ok, the poor child is an orphan at Christmas and her girlfriend is a lush. Did you even get her a present? Come here, Helen,” said mum, as she pulled her into a hug, “Now, don’t you worry, I’ll straighten out Jane and how about we do something that will cheer you up? What would you and your mum normally do on Christmas morning? Tell us and we can do the same.”

  I could tell she was touched by the motherly affection but refused to elaborate any further on why she was upset. We all assumed the emotion of the day was too much for her.

  When she had assured my mum that she really was feeling ok, we were all ordered to get dressed.

  “Now, as we missed Christmas Eve mass because of the shambles in the corner trying to hide her hangover, we should really be going, this morning. Lord, knows you need to go and pray for forgiveness; I’m certain you haven’t set foot in a church since last year.”

  “Actually mum I was in church two days ago,” I replied. I felt smug that I could technically say this with honesty.

  “You were not.”

  “I was, ask Helen.”

  “Was she? Are you a good influence on that wayward child of mine and taking her to church?” asked mum as she looked at Helen with pure hope in her eyes.

  “Yeah, but she was only there to ransom the baby Jesus.”

  “What?” asked my whole family in unison.

  “Perhaps we should stop asking Helen questions, she tends to answer more honestly than the situation requires,” I interjected.

  “We’ll get back to that later,” said mum, “now, as I was saying, we should be going to mass but I think in light of Jane’s bad behaviour we should all help her get rid of that nasty whiskey flu she’s got.”

  I didn’t like where this was going but I remained silent, while everyone else smiled at me as if they were all sharing a joke I wasn’t in on.

  “I’ve one last present for you,” added mum as she handed me a gift bag.

  I opened it and inside I found an old swimsuit I hadn’t seen since I was a teenager. I took it out of the bag and didn’t bother to hide my confusion.

  “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “You know I’m not one to throw things away,” said mum, “and it’s a good job I didn’t because you’re going to need that for a dip, this morning.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “I’ve signed you up for the Christmas morning pier jump for charity and you’ve got about a half hour before we’re due to leave, so I would get a move on, if I were you.”

  “Oh, so you have actually gone mad,” I replied, “There’s absolutely no chance in hell I’m doing that.”

  “Well, that’s fine, you don’t have to do it,” she said.

  I was relieved that she wasn’t completely unreasonable and I settled back down onto the sofa to finish my tea.

  “I think you should know though, if you don’t, you won’t be getting any Christmas dinner. Also, I’ll make you come on a week-long pilgrimage to Croagh Patrick, and before you test me, yes, I’m completely serious.”

  I looked around the room and noticed that Lucas, Helen and Siobhan were barely stifling their laughter.

  “Well, it’s a good job I waxed then, wouldn’t want the village to catch a glimpse of my winter bush; it was like a forest park for a while.”

  “Jane!” screeched my mother, “What a thing to say in front of anyone, your poor father looks as white as a ghost.”

  I picked up the swimming suit and stormed out of the room to get changed. If she was going to make me do this as some sort of perverse penance then she wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of me begging her to change her mind.

  I struggled into the swimsuit, which was at least a size too small, and when it was finally on I felt the straps dig into shoulders. I admired my reflection in the mirror and likened myself to one of those eighties aerobics instructors. The swim suit was neon pink with the small mercy of it not being high cut.

  “There’s not a chance in hell I’m going out in public like this,” I said.

  I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a t-shirt to pull over the costume. I added some leggings and heavy boots but knew it didn’t matter if I kept all my clothes on, the water was still going to be enough to hurt like hell.

  The Christmas day pier jump was an annual tradition for the Kilkin, one that I never had the urge to take part in. Around 50 people would all gather and jump off the pier to raise money for a chosen charity and I applauded their bravery but the thought of willingly doing it was never on my radar.

  I refused to let my family see how much I dreaded their request and left my room with my head held high.

  They were all waiting for me, including Helen, in the hallway. Their smug smiles were enough to make me scream but I smiled as my mum handed me a towel and put a woolly hat on my head.

  My dad and Lucas both offered to take their cars into town and I gratefully accepted a seat with Lucas. I doubted that I would be able to keep my cool if I had to listen to my mother’s goading the whole drive to the pier.

  Helen sat in the back of the car with me and I knew she was trying not to laugh.

  I didn’t speak much on the drive into town and only provided one-word answers to any questions directed at me.

  “Maybe if you like it, you could make this an annual thing,” said Siobhan.

  “Maybe,” I replied, “You could do it with me.”
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  “I would, but I can barely swim, you know that,” she laughed.

  “Exactly,” I said as I glared at her in the mirror.

  “Hey!”

  We pulled up at the waterfront and I reluctantly got out and immediately felt the cold breeze on my face. I was already freezing and I dreaded the thought of jumping into even colder water.

  The jumpers were already huddled at the bottom of the pier in their costumes. There was an unsettlingly number of speedos present and I choose to stop looking in their direction.

  I took off my coat and hat and threw them at mum.

  I stripped my leggings, socks and shoes off but refused to take my t-shirt off.

  “See you on the other side then,” I said and turned to join the other crazy people waiting to jump.

  “Hold up,” shouted Helen.

  When I looked back, I saw her stripping too, revealing a swimsuit underneath her clothes.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I thought that was pretty obvious, I’m going carol singing.”

  “You don’t have to do this, it’s a terrible idea.”

  “I believe only yesterday you told me that if I jumped into the water then you would too. It’s only polite to return the sentiment.”

  I was touched at the sentiment and took her hand as we walked down to the edge of the pier.

  We had to jump in pairs and I had never been more grateful to feel the warmth of someone else’s hand in mine.

  When it came to our turn, we decided to jump on ‘three’.

  Just as I was about to say the final number Helen shouted: “By the way, this was my suggestion, I saw the poster when we here yesterday.”

  “You what?”

  She jumped into the water with a scream of pure joy and I followed straight after.

  When I hit the water the cold was almost unbearable. It felt like burning all over my arms, chest and legs but I kept concentrating on Helen who was just in front of me.

  I forced my body to float to adjust to the temperature before I went into shock but the shouts from above told me I was holding up the next pair waiting to jump. I started to swim, very slowly, over to the shore where mum was waiting with an open towel and dad had a flask of tea.

  They helped Helen out of the water and then me. They squished us both into towels and hugs to help heat us up.

  “I’m so proud of you both,” said mum, “Helen you really are a stubborn woman, you know I wouldn’t have made you go on a pilgrimage.”

  “Now she tells me.”

  We shivered at the side of the water as we held the plastic cups of tea and hoped to get some heat back inside us.

  After mum got enough photos of Helen and me at the waterside, we were finally allowed to get back into the car and go home.

  When we got back, we were instructed to sit in front of the fire and get feeling back into our fingers and toes while mum tried to salvage what was left of the ham.

  “That was such a rush,” said Helen as she looked at the flames dancing in the grate.

  “So you’re an adrenaline junky?”

  “Maybe? I can be whoever I want to be, I’ve got my whole life to decide.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  We went back to looking at the fire and listening to the crackling of the wood. I used to spend long Sunday afternoons doing just this. It always made me fall asleep.

  I wanted to doze then and there but Helen called my name just as my eyes began to close.

  “I have something to tell you,” she added.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “No, it’s a good thing. I rang my dad, this morning.”

  “You did? That’s great.”

  “I don’t remember the last time we spoke or saw each other at Christmas. He had tried to reach out to me when mum died, but I didn’t want to know. Being here and feeling like I am part of a family again made me really think about him.”

  “Are you sure it had nothing to do with my mum calling you an orphan continuously?”

  She laughed and continued: “He’s offered to come and pick me up here tomorrow. He’s living in Wicklow so he can take me home after I visit.”

  The news that she was leaving made my heart ache a little but I knew she couldn’t stay here indefinitely.

  “I think it makes sense,” she said, “I haven’t even got any clothes or anything here and it’s not like you’re in a rush to get back to Belfast this side of New Year’s.”

  “I guess.”

  “I just think I need to be with my own family and figure out my next move. I really have loved meeting you and meeting all of you guys, but I’m completely lost and I need help to get back to being me. Does that make sense?”

  “I know you’re right, it’s just I hadn’t planned on you leaving so soon. I hadn’t really planned on anything past today, I guess.”

  She smiled and I was at a loss as to what else to say. I didn’t want her to go, but deep down, I knew she was doing the right thing.

  She had her own life to sort out and I had to figure out my next move too.

  Our Christmas story had to come to an end sometime, I just wished it wasn’t so soon.

  Chapter 11

  Dinner was a gluttonous affair and lasted most of the afternoon.

  Creamy vegetable soup and fresh wheaten bread was dished out as soon as the clock struck 2pm. Mum had never served Christmas dinner a minute late in my life and she wasn’t going to start now.

  Before we even had time to digest the first course, she plated up the stuffed turkey, what remained of the ham and all the usual trimmings – including the epic stuffing balls I’d enticed Helen with.

  We pulled crackers and shared the awful jokes inside. We complimented mum on all her work after every mouthful and she lapped it up.

  Christmas dinner was the crowning glory of her culinary skills and she loved to hear how much we were enjoying the food.

  Helen announced that she would be leaving tomorrow, when her dad arrived and everyone was disappointed that we would be losing her.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re not an orphan anymore, but still it was lovely having you here,” said dad.

  She laughed at his reaction but clearly didn’t know how to respond to the whole orphan thing anymore.

  When it was time for dessert, everyone asked for half the usual portion because we were so full, but mum’s a feeder by nature and refused to let us off with anything other than overloading our bowls with Christmas pudding and cream. By the end of the meal we were all fit to burst and retreated to the comfort of the sofas to watch a festive film. Helen and I shared the two-seater sofa and huddled under a blanket while mum and dad fell asleep before the title sequence had even started.

  Lucas and Siobhan were lost in their own private conversation and for the first time I looked at their intimacy and felt a pang of jealousy. I stole a look at Helen and caught her looking at them too.

  Without warning, Helen stretched out her legs and placed them over mine.

  “I think because I selflessly jumped into that freezing water with you, this morning, you owe me a foot rub,” she said.

  “Might I remind you, that neither of us had to actually jump anywhere but only did so because of your stupid suggestion?”

  “Yes, but wasn’t it better to clear the air and do something like that so we could enjoy the day without your mother shooting daggers at you?”

  She was right, mum’s mood had vastly improved by the time I got out of the water and so I obliged Helen’s request and rubbed her feet.

  It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep either and when I looked around the room I realised that I was the only one still awake.

  I took the moment in and appreciated the quiet. The only noise was from my dad’s snores and the television but it was still blissful.

  I gently moved Helen’s feet off my legs and placed them where I had been sitting. She didn’t stir and I left to find some leftover
Christmas pudding.

  I was in no way hungry but that didn’t seem to faze me.

  I couldn’t find the cream and it wasn’t until I heard mum tell me it was on the top shelf of the fridge that I realised how noisy I had been.

  “I’m sorry, mum,” I said, “I thought I was being so quiet.”

  “You’ve never been quiet a day in your life. Shove on the kettle and have a chat with me.”

  I did as I was told and waited for her to start the inquisition.

  “Tell me about this thing with Helen,” she said.

  “That’s a bit complicated.”

  “I’m good with complicated. I know you think I’m just some silly woman who fusses about shortbread and ham but I’m your mother and I’m wiser than you know.”

  “I don’t think that, mum.”

  She raised an eyebrow as if to question my response.

  “Just because I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps and stay in Kilkin and get married and have babies and run the home doesn’t mean I think you’re some stereotypical cardboard cut-out.

  “I know you work just as hard as dad at running this place and the farm and I knew how lucky Siobhan and I were to have you home with us when we got home from school. You’re fierce and loving and the most incredible person to have in my corner, even when I don’t appreciate it.”

  “It’s not like I didn’t have other options, Jane,” she interrupted, “but I chose what was best for my family and I couldn’t be happier with the life I lead. Can you say the same?”

  I thought about her question and she waited patiently for an answer.

  “I got laid off,” I admitted, “I don’t know what I want to do now. I was great at my job and now I’m just floundering from one extreme emotion to the next.”

  “You are more than your job, Jane,” she replied, “Just like I’m more than a walking apron who dispenses dinners and does laundry.

  “I’m not going to ask you to come home because I don’t think that will make you happy, but please know there’s always a home here for you.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Always.”