A Fiery Festive Season

The tree was up, the tinsel shining as it slithered around the house. The lights twinkled, as bright as fairies. The new baubles glistening like tear drops, iridescent in their unusual bright blue hue. The music played softly around her, as she drank her coffee. For once, she was actually looking forward to Christmas, Stella thought, as she chatted to her daughter Astra. Astra had made the coffee, and given her some wonderful gifts; that Mozart CD she had wanted, some chocolates, a book of Homers poetry, and a scarf with giraffes on. Eric wasn’t up yet, but he was always in bed these days. She doubted if he would even remember it was Christmas Day. She wondered if would be like last year, when he “forgot” to get her present. She swallowed, remembering the tears. She hoped it wouldn’t be the same. But that was the thing about Eric. He never changed; a stubborn man set in his ways. She sighed, dreaming of long forgotten days in London when he had first charmed her on those dates, when he had loved her and treated her properly. But now, forty years later, all she got was hate.

She winced, as she heard his footsteps pound against the carpet, as he came downstairs. 

“Happy Christmas!” Eric cried, hugging her. He handed her a large box, wrapped in paper adorned with penguins. She flinched, surprised by his good mood and the hug that only came out on Christmas Day, for special occasions.

“Thanks” Stella muttered, handing him one of the gifts under her tree, with the snowman tag with his name on it, the socks with owls on she had chosen for him. She picked up the one he had given her, grunting with the effort. It was heavy. She tore off the paper. Inside, was a large white box, marked fragile, covered in Sellotape. She took it to the kitchen, as Astra tried to be nice to Eric. Stella knew it wasn’t fair, that her daughter was always in the middle. Retrieving her scissors, she battled with the Sellotape, as Eric cooed over his new socks. She heard him talking to Astra, as they exchanged gifts awkwardly. With the Sellotape sliced through, she was finally able to open the box. She swallowed. Something inside moved. 

“Go on.” Eric encouraged her. She jumped. She hadn’t heard him come into the kitchen, so lost in thought. “Open it.” he beamed, looking more excited than she had ever seen him. She nodded, with a small smile. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid, a little nervous.

She gasped. Inside was a large phoenix, curled up in a ball of crimson feathers.

"You’ve got to be kidding." Stella said, staring.

When Eric said he was getting her a bird for Christmas, she thought he meant a turkey. Instead, he'd got her a phoenix. A phoenix, for gods sake! She didn’t even think they existed anymore. But here was one, in her kitchen. She stared, open mouthed, eyes wide, at Eric. But he just grinned, in that smile that began to annoy her. Had he gone mad?

 "I thought you'd like it. You love myths. Besides, its original." he replied with a big grin, as if that made it okay.

“I do love myths.” She answered. “But that does not mean that I want a live mythological creature in my kitchen!” she snapped. “Where on earth did you even get it?”

“Well, you remember when I took that trip to Greece for work in the summer?” he asked nervously. She nodded, remembering how he had talked of nothing else for weeks, how she wished he had invited her. But he always thought only of himself, as usual. “Well, I got it when I was out there.” He continued. She frowned. “This old monk got talking with me in this temple we visited. He said he had this bird he wanted to give to someone, before he passed on to the next life. I said how much you loved birds, and he said I could have it.”

“How much for?” she asked, crossing her arms. Birds like that didn’t come without a price

“You let me worry about that.” She scowled. He was always complaining about money, and how much she spent. But here he was, buying a rare bird. How could he? After all the times they had squabbled when she tried to buy things for herself; the coffees to escape him, a hoover that worked for once, shoes without holes. And now this?

“How much?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How much?”

“€2,000,” he answered, after a long pause. Her jaw dropped.

“The monk in the temple said it was a good price, for a bird of that age,”

“What age?”

“600” he answered with a shrug.

 “Is it even house trained?” she asked.

“Does that matter?” he snapped, “You’re the one who will be looking after it.” he said, casually, as he reached for a glass in a cupboard.

“What like with everything else?” she retorted. “Just typical of you, to bring something like this into the house and not bother to take care of it. You never do anything round here. You just sit in your chair and watch your goddamn detective shows. Never mind the oven needs cleaning or the floor needs doing or the table needs tidying.” She continued, rambling as her voice grew in volume in anger. She gestured to the kitchen table, which was littered with his papers and computer and piles of hospital letters. “You just sit there while me and Astra do everything, and its not fair. Now you want me to take care of a bird too? As if I don’t do enough around here, with the cooking and cleaning and everything – “ 

“What did you get, Mum?” Astra asked, entering the kitchen. Interrupting Stella. Stella sighed in relief. Astra always came when she was most needed.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “A phoenix! That’s awesome!” She continued, excitedly opening the box up properly. The phoenix flew out of the box, settling near the coffee machine. It began to preen itself, scattering red feathers everywhere as it cleaned a spot near its breast. “It’s so pretty, isn’t it, Mum?” Astra said, with a smile. She knew that smile. It was the one her daughter used to try and make her feel better. Stella took a few deep breaths, trying to get rid of her anger at Eric. She turned her attention to the bird, approaching it a little nervously. It did have rather a sharp beak, and really long claws. But it seemed tame, by the way it settled there. she lowered her hand, cautiously petting it. It cooed as she did, a soft purring noise that emanated from its throat.

"It is beautiful." Stella murmured, stroking its feathers. Under her fingers, the feathers were softer than carpets. For a moment, she forgot all her troubles, just concentrating on the bird. Against the black worksurface, it was a splash of colour; a sea of crimson, scarlet, saffron, garnet, topaz, coral and vermillion that brightened up the place. For a moment, she didn’t care that it was leaving scratch marks on her laminate worksurfaces with its claws as it stood there and cleaned itself. Deep saffron eyes stared at her, large and unblinking, as if it was looking into her soul. 

“It sure is.” Astra said, beaming. “Aren’t you a sweetie, Sholeh?” she cooed, tickling it behind the cowl of feathers on its neck.

“Sholeh?” Stella asked, confused.

“It means fire.” Astra answered, with a smile. “Thought it was appropriate, for a bird of fire.”

“Sholeh.” Stella whispered. “I like it.”

“How on earth are we going to look after it?” Stella said, to herself “We don’t know how. What does it like to eat? Does it need walking? Does it need space to fly? Our garden isn’t big enough for that. I suppose we could take it to the Greenway. But even then, what would people think?” Stella kept talking, the worries spilling out of her lips like a stream. Astra was busy stroking it, not listening. The phoenix let out a happy cry, a spark of flame spurting from its beak and setting the radio on fire. Stella rushed in with the fire blanket, as the toaster went up in a plume of smoke and white foam. Stella smiled. She hated that radio. It was old, and dusty, and never worked. Eric always had his programmes blaring from the speakers, when he bothered to come downstairs, so loud it always gave her and Astra headaches. She had been meaning to get rid of it for weeks, but he had caused so many fights over it. And now there it was, on the windowsill, a burnt mess of crackling wires. 

“Maybe we can be friends after all” she said, as it settled on his arm. It seemed to chuckle, a bouncing sound that echoed from its throat. She stroked it softly, the way Astra had done, cawing away.

The bird sang along to all the carols, as they made the Christmas lunch. Together, Astra and Stella tried to figure out what to feed it. The phoenix didn’t seem to like bacon, sausages, or roasted potatoes. it nibbled at the sage and onion stuffing, pecking out little bits and chewing on them, before spitting them out. It threw up the parsnips and carrots, a sickly-sweet mess that smelled like almonds, and took forever to clean off the tablecloth. But it didn’t matter, it was an old tablecloth, a wedding present she had got forty years ago and never liked. It didn’t even like turkey, even when she carved some especially for it. It just turned its head, sniffing. It seemed happiest curled up around the large candle on the table, sitting on the wreath of holly and ivy she had made last week. When she went to put the rubbish out, it followed her. With a rush of wind and noise, it soared over her head as it wings flapped, as loud as a thunderstorm. It shot out of the back door like a hurricane. and into the garden, wings wheeling as it flew around in circles for a while. She watched it go, as she filled the recycle bin with empty packets and boxes. It seemed to like the maple tree the best, settling on the tallest tree like some kind of eagle. It took off, and was gone for a long while. Stella couldn’t concentrate, worrying about it already. But it scratched at the door, wanting to come back inside, when she was starting the gravy. It ducked and dived, around the kitchen, taking sips of the gravy as she stirred the mixture in. Stella wasn’t sure if you were meant to feed a phoenix Bisto gravy, but it seemed to like the stuff. She took out an extra jug, and made some more, and it drank the murky liquid as if it was water. 

After dinner, they sat in the living room, and it settled on the sofa, head curled up in that long tail. When Astra got the sweets out at tea time, it perked up. Its beak rustled through the quality street and celebrations, throwing sweets everywhere, the paper rustling like snowflakes as they fell. It dived into a tin of wine gums and fruit pastilles, scoffing the lot. It even ate through the wrappers, not caring. Stella blinked, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She watched as it polished off the tin of sweets happily. As it ate, it seemed to grow a little bigger. As it ate, it seemed to glow, an iridescence of gold and amber that glimmered. She rubbed her eyes, Perhaps they were playing tricks on her again. Her eyes usually did.

“So, that’s what you like?” Stella said with laugh, as its voice trilled and tweeted with happiness, a sweet melodic noise that resounded like a baritone, as soft as caramel and as rich as butter. “Good thing I bought six tins, then!” she exclaimed with a laugh. It brought her one, squeezing it between its beak and dropping it in her lap. A large strawberry fruit pastille. Her favourite. She bit into it, savouring the sweet taste as it hit her tongue, patting the phoenix on the head. It cooed, before flying across the room and getting her another one. It even fetched her crossword, carefully carrying the paper in its beak.

“Good boy!” she cried, pleased. It was obviously house trained, if it could do tricks like that. It sat on her lap; a mass of feathers as bright as the sun. it began to snore, its whole body vibrating as it breathed in and out with a contented sigh. She stroked its feathers as she pondered the clues, as Eric’s snores rumbled in unison from upstairs.

As the sunset approached, it seemed to grow brighter, droplets of sunshine falling from its feathers as it rushed outside. Stella followed it, glad to move again after sitting down for so long. Against the darkening skies, it was a beacon of light, as yellow as the sun itself. it shot up into the sky, diving and turning somersaults and cartwheels, light streaming off the long tail feathers and from its wings, and even its beak. The sunlight littered her garden, bright pools of molten liquid that ate through the grass as the green blade melted into patches. Eric would be furious. But Stella didn’t care. It shot across the garden, breathing bursts of golden flames that it caught in mid-air, swallowing them, and exhaling them for fun. It swirled and twirled; a ribbon of red, coral, orange, amber, russet, burgundy, vermillion, saffron colour that never seemed to stop spinning. It laughed and trilled, blowing her flames in odd shapes, flying in and out of the smoke rings it left behind. The apple tree was lit ablaze, twigs and branches crackling, as flames trailed up into the air. The apples grew, turning ripe in seconds, smelling fresh and fragrant. It sped off into the clouds, chasing the horizon, as the sun left for the day. She watched it go, as it whooped and called to her, its bright feathers disappearing into the dark.

She wondered where it went, and if she could go too. She dreamt of escaping to lost ancient worlds, with Astra and the bird, far away from Eric. Images of Greece and its lost temples filled her mind. She had always wanted to go there. But life had always got in the way. She kept the dream alive in her heart, of visiting the ancient Parthenon and Delphi, of exploring the home of the classics she had always loved. Perhaps this bird could take her there, she thought, with a dreamy smile.

In the morning, it returned, just after dawn. She hugged it, glad of its company as Eric returned to his normal self. Against her dull life and beige walls, it was a splash of colour and a source of laughter. A strange feeling bubbled up within her, a happiness and excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she couldn’t get enough of it. With the bird by her side, she felt unstoppable. it was as if the bird had lit a fire in her heart, braving her to say and do and think the impossible. A dream of Greece and divorce swirled in her head, tempting her more than usual. She smiled. Life was going to be a lot different from now on, she thought, as she stroked its head. tenderly.