The Unexpected Gift

Chapter 4:

I double-checked myself in the mirror before I left. Even though I do not like Christmas or all the gatherings and parties, this was a work party and I needed to be presentable. With the added bonus that the school managed to book the event room at one of the local restaurants, so I needed to be even more presentable, because the public would see me as well.

I did not go all out. After all, I did not have 17 little minions to make happy and spread joy to, at this party. This was an adult party where I did not need to express too much fake cheer around for. I am wearing a simple black t-shirt dress and my red Bobs. Mrs. White can’t say I did wear anything Christmasy. I have my red shoes, Christmas colors. I pulled my hair back in a high ponytail and didn’t worry about reapplying my makeup. There is still enough lipstick and mascara on from earlier.

I headed out of my house and locked it up. I am not really sure why, I live in the middle of nowhere, down an old dirt road. The only people that come down here are me and sss delivery trucks. But I like my little house and everything that is in it, so I lock it up just in case. It is the only good thing that my uncle left behind for me when he passed. Well, the house and a decent-sized inheritance. And I thought he never loved me. I guess I was the only one that he had to pass everything to when he passed.

Once, I double-checked my door, pet Rasco and checked his food bowl. I don’t plan on being long, but I want to make sure he has food while I am gone. I keep him happy and he keeps my house safe. Well, at least from raccoons and opossums, because he would rather roll over and beg for a tummy rub from a stranger than guard the house from them. In fact, I’m sure I have seen my sss driver sneaking him treats. But that's OK. I still love my non-guarded guard dog.

Once I am happy he is content and has plenty to eat, I head out to my old truck and load up. I am dreading this party, but I will hold my face for long enough until I can make my exit and come back home to Netflix and ice cream.

As I drive to the largest Mexican restaurant in town, I mentally prepare myself and try to get into the cheerful spirit that is expected. Don’t get me wrong, I am normally a very happy and cheerful person. It comes with the territory. You can’t be a kindergarten teacher without being a genuinely happy person.

And I am for 11 months of the year. But December is not a good month for me. It seems like anything that is to go wrong in my life happens in December.

When I was in third grade, my father was out Christmas shopping and was held up at gunpoint. The man robbed my father and then murdered him. That man was never caught. I was young, so I do not remember much, but I know it was really hard on my mother. At the time, my mom was six months pregnant, she was going to have my baby brother, and it was such an exciting thing for a young seven-year-old.

The doctors stated that the stress and depression from the loss of my father caused my mother to go into premature labor. My mother was given an emergency delivery for the health of both her and my little brother. However, his lungs were not fully developed, and he passed away only a day after his birth.

Mom moved us from New York back down to Texas where her older brother lived. Saying that New York held too many bad memories for her to stay there anymore. We lived with my uncle on his old farm. More and more each day, I would see less and less of my mother. Depression was slowly taking over her, to where she was hardly able to function. We no longer celebrate Christmas. Mom would always say it reminded her so much of what she had lost.

My uncle didn’t help either. He didn’t want us there and thought of us as just burdens that he had to take care of. But mom was giving him dad’s monthly life insurance check, so he didn’t make us leave. If we left, he would no longer get any checks.

Then, three years later on the anniversary of her father's death, the depression became so overwhelming that my mother could no longer stand it. I found her laid out on the bathroom floor covered in her own blood. Her body was already cold so she had been there for a long time. The police suspect that she did it while I was at school in hopes that my uncle would find her and not me. Well, that didn’t happen. I was the one traumatized but my mother's lifeless body. Giving me just one more reason to hate Christmas.

My uncle so graciously took me in. What else could a grieving uncle do for his only niece? Right, more like if I was to go into foster care he would no longer get the monthly check. Growing up with my uncle wasn’t all terrible, he wasn’t abusive, so it could have been worse. He was just neglectful. But I have become accustomed to that in the last year. Caring more for myself than my mother did.

My uncle was never big on holidays or birthdays, or giving gifts. He provided me with enough of what I needed to survive and so that children's services didn’t come and pick me up. Taking his paycheck away with him.

So to say Christmas was never an important part of my life was an understatement. It was the worst time of the year and I tried to avoid too many Christmas-based activities. Which at times was hard as a teacher of littles.

The prime example is right now as I am pulling up to the staff Christmas party.