Claimed for Christmas

Chapter Ten

We roll through the centre of town heading toward my mother’s house, and I stare out the window silently as we move with the traffic that seems in no hurry to get anywhere.

As we enter the town square, I look up at ridiculous amount of Christmas lights that are strung up all over the stores that line all four sides and then swop into the centre where a large pedestrian area is situated.

My gaze follows the lights until they meet above a huge Christmas tree, brightly decorated with baubles and coloured bulbs. In front, standing on the two inches of snow that covers the usually green grassy areas and walkways, there is a group of carollers who are singing to a gathering crowd. A small cart to their left is selling hot chestnuts by the paper bag full, the shoppers warming their hands on the hot treats as they listen to the voices of the carol singers.

My gaze moves along the square, taking in the disgustingly cheerful sight, the packed sidewalks as people greet each other because everyone knows everyone around here.

As we continue past the main square heading out past the shops, int the direction of the residential streets, we pass a man dressed as Santa, standing on the corner, a bell in his hand as shoppers drop money into the bucket beside him. The sign attached to the bucket says its donations for the Fire Service toy drive, something that our town has done since I was a child. I stifle a groan as I watch him ringing his bell, calling out the tradition ho ho ho of every department store Santa Claus.

As the abundance of Christmas cheer slides past my window, I shake my head, sighing quietly, how has this even happened to me? How did I get here? I’m back in small town Christmas hell!

Twenty five minutes later, despite only driving six freaking miles! Thanks, single lane roads and people who don’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere! We finally pull up outside of the house I grew up in, I grimace at the ostentatious display that covers the front of the two story building. Every square inch of my mother’s home is covered in lights, the porch pillars are wound tightly with white string lights that make it look like Mom has two glow in the dark dildo’s framing her front door. The lawn has more inflatables than should be legally allowed, and I growl at the oversized snow globe that has snow swirling around the Santa Claus inside, the tinny music of the sound system I’ve tried to forget pumping out Frosty the Snowman loud enough to be heard over the rumble of my brother’s engine.

The SUV hasn’t even fully stopped before the front door bursts open, my mother illuminated by the hall light behind her as she clasps her hands excitedly.

‘Elijah! You’re here!’ she squeals, rushing down the porch steps toward me in her light up Christmas jumper that announces ‘Holly S*it’ in bold letters with a sprig of holly printed over each of her breasts like n****e covers. She skids on the snowy path in her Mrs Clause face slippers as I open the door and reluctantly climb out to greet her.

‘Hey Mom’ I reply as I’m once again engulfed in a pair of arms, my head yanked downward sharply by the five foot four women that is my mother.

‘My Lijahberry! Aww I’m so happy!’ my mother wails, holding me tightly as I hug her back, ignoring the screaming in my neck muscles from the awkward bent position I’m in.

‘Mom! Your slippers are getting wet, you’ll electrocute yourself woman, get inside’ Elliott’s voice booms reproachfully from the back of the SUV, where he’s just opening the trunk.

‘Oh, oops’ Mom gasps, releasing me and looking down, ‘Elliott bought them for me, aren’t they fabulous? They are battery operated! They play Christmas songs when you press the button in her nose’ she tells me, giggling as she links her arm through mine and drags me toward the front door, leaving my brother to get my case out of the trunk.

Walking up the front steps, I step through the door, my eyes immediately assaulted by the spirit of Christmas that is all over Mom’s house. Lights, decorations, and other Christmas related crap covers every surface in every imaginable colour, nothing even trying to match by the looks of it. The banister is wrapped with a garland of fake holly, and a life sized Santa stands guard at the bottom of the stairs grinning broadly at me.

'Shoes off Elijah' my mother orders sternly as I try not to gouge my eyes out of their sockets to block the abomination assaulting them.

‘Dear God’ I mutter to myself, kicking off my shoes, as my mother beams proudly, turning toward the shoe rack by the door and swapping out the now soaking wet slippers on her feet for an equally gregarious furry option that are shaped like reindeers but the antlers are lime green in colour, and each has a nose that lights up as she walks.

‘Do you like it sweetie?’ she gushes, turning back to me with her new footwear now on, ‘it took Darcie and I over two weeks to get everything up this year. Did you see the light up reindeers on the roof next to the sleigh? They are new this year, I think they really complete the roof display!’ she giggles girlishly, patting my chest with her free hand as I give her a tight smile.

‘No, surprisingly I must have missed that awesome sight’ I grumble grumpily, ‘maybe you should try to be a little less subtle with your decorations next time’ I add under my breath sarcastically.

‘As dad always used to say, Santa can’t deliver presents if he hasn’t got his reindeer to pull the sleigh!’ she chirps, leading me down the hallway and into the kitchen as my brother and his family pile in behind us, Elliott carrying my case as though it weighs nothing.

As I step into the bright room at the back of the house, my chest tightens, the smell of my Grandma Gigi’s gingerbread cookies fragrances the air, catapulting me back to being little, kneeling on one of her wooden kitchen chairs, stirring the huge ceramic bowl with a wooden spoon as she added the spices.

‘Stir it well Elijah, we’re stirring in the love, remember, that’s what makes the best gingerbread cookies.’ Her voice fills my head even though I haven’t heard it in the ten years since she died.

I blink back tears that suddenly spring to my eyes, looking away quickly so my mother won’t see as she ushers me toward one of the seats around the table in the centre of the room and pushes me into it.

‘You couldn’t have timed this better’ Mom states happily, ‘the first batch is just coming out of the oven.’

‘Yay! Can we have some’ Flora asks jumping up and down as my nephew races to the table, climbing up next to me.

‘Of course, of course’ my mother replies, ‘just remember to let them cool slightly, we don’t want any burnt fingers’ she warns.

‘We will’ my niblings sing as the girls join us excitedly on the other side of the table, the chairs scraping across the tiled floor beneath them as they take a seat each.

I can’t stop my gaze straying to the oven as my mother opens the door, pulling out the tray and placing it on top before using a spatula to lift them onto a plate.

Bringing the plate to the table, she places it in the middle as my niblings shift forward eagerly in their seats, and my brother’s fingers reach over the scrubbed wooden table toward the treats.

Mom’s spatula snakes out like lightening, rapping across the back of my brother’s hand as he snatches it back.

‘Hey!’ he pouts, rubbing his knucles.

‘Did I say you could take one yet?’ mother scolds before turning her attention to the kids, ‘and butts back in seats’ she adds sternly, glaring at them as the three kids freeze before shrinking back into their chairs.

‘Here you go Lijahberry, you have one first after your long travel day’ Mom urges, smiling as I reach out and take the largest, sorry kids, I love you all, but when it comes to Gigi’s cookies, it’s a dog eat dog world and I will mud wrestle you for the bet one.

‘Wo guess we know who’s the favourite’ my brother mutters under his breath as his wife elbows him in the side, glaring at him.

I take my first bite and I’m once again back in Gigi’s kitchen, the homely scent of baking and something distinctly my grandma washes over me.

At the cursory nod from my mother, the kids and Elliott lunge forward each grabbing a cookie and biting into them happily.

As I polish off the remainder of my cookie, Mom touches my arm, ‘I expect you want to get settled in Lijahberry, come, I’ll take you upstairs.’

I stand up, rolling my eyes, ‘I know where my old room is Mom, I haven’t been gone that long’ I tease.

Mom laughs, patting me gently, ‘of course you haven’t but maybe your mother just wants to spend a few more minutes with you before the kids want you to play’ she replies.

Nodding, I follow her out into the hallway and up the stairs, grabbing my case from beside the front door as I pass.

My old room is to the right of the stairs, and as my mother opens the door wide to let me in, my throat tightens a little. It’s exactly the same as the day I left, my posters still cover the walls, my guitar still rests in the stand by the window, even my comforter is spread neatly over the bed.

‘I’ve been using your room to store the kids presents’ my mother murmurs as she walks past me to a huge pile of gift wrapped gifts in the corner. ‘I hope you don’t mind but the kids won’t come in here without permission so it’s the easiest hiding spot.’ She looks over at me sternly, ‘don’t be looking through them though, some have your name on them’ she states.

My mouth falls open in surprise, ‘what? How? Mom, you didn’t even know I was coming till yesterday! When did you go shopping for gifts for me?’

My mom sniffs, ‘a mother is always prepared Elijah.’ Her face softens as she smiles fondly, ‘I’m so glad you are here, I’ve missed you . . .’ She wipes at her eye, sniffing as I cover the distance between us, pulling her into my arms.

‘Don’t cry mom’ I sigh, ‘you know I can’t handle it when you cry.’

Mom giggles, blinking her wet lashes, ‘I can’t help it, you are home, I’m going to get to spend Christmas with all of my family for the first time in so long. We’re going to wake up Christmas morning and the kids will see that Santa has been and we’ll eat bacon rolls and open presents together . . .’

Her words fade into a buzz around me as I stiffen, my eyes widening with realisation. f***k, I usually just send money to my Mother's bank account for her to dole out to everyone in cards that she writes for me. This year I’m here, I’ll be opening gifts from my family in front of them instead of in the sanctity of my apartment on my own, and I’ve got nothing to give in return . . . crap!