White Elephant

For the first time in years Cleveland had a white Christmas - and thank God. I’ve always loved the holidays but frankly it has been miserable the last few years. Frozen rain, bad roads, that horrible icy mud that doesn’t really stick to your boots but clods and melts all over the floor. All the worst parts of winter without any of the beauty. But this year there’s snow, and I made the wise decision to take the overnight Amtrak so I didn’t even have to deal with driving the unplowed streets that come with the snow. Also, wow, it was a lot of snow, like a whole lot of snow. Trapped inside around the fire sort of snow. In my estimation, a perfect little White Christmas in the Ohio suburbs.

Uncle Mike’s house, too, looked great covered in a couple feet of snow. At least, the parts you could see - visibility wasn’t exactly great in the almost-blizzard. I personally liked the buried alive, Jack Torrance-style Santa Claus statue with icicles hanging down from his plastic beard. My mom preferred the lights. Different tastes, I guess.

Inside was admittedly a bit of a mess, but what else could really be expected of Uncle Mike? It’s hard hosting a Christmas by yourself, especially with a family as large as ours. Back before everyone moved away the whole family was close by and Grandma and Grandpa, not Uncle Mike, lived here. They hosted the best parties. And everyone liked them, or at least respected them, and so they had plenty of help prepping dishes and cleaning and playing games and entertaining the children. But when they passed Uncle Mike and Aunt Sarah inherited the home, and the exodus of family members followed soon after - to Charlotte and Chicago and Miami and Nashville and all those other cities that are more alive than Cleveland. Of course, I left too so I can’t really talk, but still, I like Cleveland. I understand that it’s seen better days, but I’d put it up there with any of those ancient fallen cities. Ohio Persepolis, Ohio Babylon, whatever you want to call it. But anyway, without family in town it got harder to host, and then this year, without Sarah, forget about it. Poor Uncle Mike.

But despite all the stress this was a happy moment, and I can’t tell you how excited Uncle Mike looked to see us all when we came in. He was beaming, like really beaming. I honestly hadn’t seen him this happy in years, and even though his house was a mess I didn’t really care. I, too, was smiling wide. I hadn’t seen everyone in a long time and now we were all here. Maybe we’d be stuck in here for a little too long but still, not like we’d be stuck here forever.

Dinner was nothing remarkable; apparently the stores had been out of a lot of things because of the coming storm and so he made due with what he was able to get. We still had a ham, we still had green beans and potato casserole. Most importantly we still had plenty of pie, even if it was store bought and not homemade like usual.

But after dinner we did a White Elephant, and I love doing White Elephant. See, I like my family, I really do, but I can’t deny the pleasure I get from stealing gifts from my younger cousins, and older cousins, and my parents and my uncles and really everyone. I’m a good person but I can’t deny how much I enjoy robbing their fun. And all the terrible gifts are fun too; sometimes I think bad things are even better than good things. My friends like to judge me for that but it’s the truth.

We sat down in the living room in a big circle and got ready to do the White Elephant - it was nice seeing everyone together there, cozy near the fire and warm inside. My parents sat on the loveseat and I sat against the arm. Uncle Matt’s three kids sat on the floor next to me and he and Aunt Jennifer leaned against the back wall. Uncle Brian and his new girlfriend sat on the couch across from the loveseat and Great Uncle Albert filled up the big armchair by himself. Uncle Mike sat on the fireplace and his dead wife sat there next to him, and Brian’s kids sat on an ottoman next to the fireplace. Yep, everyone was there and they were all smiles, catching up around the table full of cheap and terrible gifts. Uncle Mike got up to pass around numbers to figure out the order while we all just talked, and it was nice to be done with the stress of dinner and just hang out with the family for once.

“What did your parents get you?” my cousin Rachel asked.

“Oh nothing too interesting,” I replied. “Just stuff for my new apartment. Some dishes, a couple candles, a pair of shoes.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Rachel said. My mom held in a laugh.

“Oh I think it is. You’ll understand someday Rachel, putting together a home is hard work,” I said. “And expensive.”

“Oh,” Rachel said, “That’s not very fun.” Rachel was right, of course, but I had gotten pretty good at lying to myself about just how exciting adult life was. In reality the isolation was eating me alive, hollowing me out, spitting on my body and spirit. No matter how much I pretended that my crappy apartment in a crappier part of Philadelphia was home I couldn’t deny that I hated it. It would never be home, just a poorly insulated coffin. Nothing like Uncle Mike’s house.

“Alright, did everyone get a number?” Uncle Mike asked too quietly. “Hey!” he said, louder. “Did everyone get a number?” He took the mumbles and non-answers as a yes. “Alright, who has number 1?” he asked, again to no answers. Eventually Matt spoke up.

“I think it was Jennifer, she ran to the bathroom,” Matt said. The kids booed, Great Uncle Albert laughed. Mike’s dead wife rasped out some dry coughs. Brian’s new girlfriend made some snarky comment but frankly I wasn’t listening. My mom started to snark her back but luckily Jennifer walked back in.

“Sorry everybody, sorry,” Jennifer said as she did that half-skip on her tiptoes that people do when they have to cut through a busy room. “Oh, are we going?” she said. “I was number one.” And so Jennifer went to the center table and lingered, hovering her hand over various gifts with some “Let’s see…”s and “Hmmm”s sprinkled in for good measure before finally picking a gift. She fought with the paper before just punching a hole through it with her nail and tearing it apart.

“Oooh,” she said, “I’ve seen these on TikTok!” In her hands was a candle warmer. Not a particularly nice one, of course, given the $25 limit, but a candle warmer nonetheless. She was a little too excited. “I love this!”, she exclaimed, not realizing that her excitement was just chum for the joyless gift-stealing sharks in attendance.

“Alright, who has number 2? And remember, you can choose to steal the candle warmer or pick a new gift.” Mike asked.

“I’m number 2!” Rachel said, which made Great Uncle Albert laugh again. It didn’t shock me that Rachel, who had just gotten done calling my new home good boring, wasn’t clamoring for the candle warmer. She picked a new gift. Since she was only 8 years old she didn’t recognize what it was but a number of other attendees, myself included, give it some ooh’s and aah’s.

“It’s a fish!” Rachel yelled.

“Not just any fish,”  her dad said, “that’s a Big Mouth Billy Bass. Press the button,” he said, hovering a little too close now. And the fish sang “Bad to The Bone” and flopped around on his wooden board and everyone laughed, at least the first time.

Mike stood up again. “Ok, who has-”

“DUH DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN” the fish said, and then said again.

“Ok Rachel, set the fish down,” her mom said. She repeated herself.

“DUH DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN” the fish said again. This time her mom just grabbed it. One of the other kids’ iPad was making noise too and she took that as well.

“I’m number 3,” my dad said. He opened a new gift and it was a new Bluetooth Speaker. Numbers 4 and 5 went off without a hitch as well - Matt stole the speaker from my dad and then he opened a tortilla blanket, and then Mike’s dead wife went fifth. She opened a new present - inside was a rotten pumpkin which must have been leftover from Halloween. It stunk. Billy Bass began to sing again; Rachel was sneakier than her mother.

“Someone steal the goddamn fish from her,” my dad said.

“Don’t speak about the Lord like that,” my uncle Brian said. He recently “found Jesus” and was particularly sensitive about this, and certainly had told us a lot about his new found faith over dinner.

“Oh Jesus,” my dad said unintentionally, and Brian just glowered at him.

“I’m number 6,” Great Uncle Albert said, diffusing the situation.

“DUH DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN,” the fish said. Rachel’s mom put it behind her on the seat this time. Albert pushed himself out of the armchair and grabbed a new present - inside was a large pile of coal.

“Oooh, you were on the naughty list!” Brian’s youngest daughter said. Albert laughed.

“Already knew that dear,” he said, making an “umph” as he dropped his body back into the chair. There was a long pause. I looked out the window - the snow was up to the middle pane.

“Number 7?” someone said and no one responded.

“Who’s got 7?” Mike asked. We waited some more.

“Oops, sorry!” My mom said. A couple people groaned. She stole the Bluetooth speaker from Matt who opened a tin full of candy. Brian’s daughter Maylee, the youngest, stole Billy Bass from a furious Rachel and an even more furious room. The fish began to sing again. Rachel picked a new gift and opened up an industrial kitchen-sized tub of margarine. She cried, but at least this one didn’t sing.

I was up next. I considered all the gift’s I could steal - the speaker was the best one but would probably just get stolen again, the fish going off was funny and I certainly didn’t want to stop that, the pumpkin was probably unsanitary and one of her fingers had snapped off inside so I figured that was hers now, and the others were just dumb. But I went with my gut and stole the candle warmer from Jennifer. In a cruel twist of irony the next present she opened was an orange scented candle.

After I went I excused myself to the bathroom - I told my mom just to pick something for me if someone took the candle warmer but, let’s be honest with ourselves, no one was stealing that. I left the living room and looked back inside; everyone had the most wonderful smile on their face, but there was something off that I just couldn’t put my finger on.

When I was in the bathroom I looked at the decorations - they hadn’t even been updated since Grandma and Grandpa used to live here. They were frilly and old timey. There’s was a smell, too - maybe lavender? I couldn’t really place it but I would certainly describe it as grandma-adjacent. A clock ticked slowly on the wall as well. I tried to wash my hands but nothing came out. The pipes must have been frozen from the storm outside. The faucet, too, was a horrible rusty brown.

When I left the bathroom I heard my grandparents speaking in their bedroom. I hadn’t heard their voices in a while. I wondered why they didn’t come out to join us in the living room. It was the funniest thing - I could hear them talking behind the door but I couldn’t make out a single word. As far as I was aware they only spoke English. I tried the door but the knob wouldn’t turn and it was hot to the touch. I decided to leave them to it and head back with the rest of the family.

When I got back there were only two people left and I still had my candle warmer. One of Jennifer’s daughters went next. Jennifer whispered something in her ear and then pointed at me, and sure enough Taylynn came over and stole my candle warmer. How petty - bribing her daughter to get the warmer back for her. But I could steal again, and so this time I stole the candle from her, and I stole her smug expression right off her face. So she stole the speaker from Brian’s girlfriend who had somehow gotten it while I was gone and then she stole the candle from me. I decided to end this cycle and just pick a new present. It was a shoebox full of paper.

“Great gift guys,” I said. One of Brian’s children was the last person left to go and began the longest stealing streak of the night. Since I had a worthless pile of paper I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen and decided to read what was printed on it. Lots of different things, it turns out: some pages from the Bible (specifically books of the old Testament it seemed), a bunch of handwritten notes written in scattered-brained half capitalized text that didn’t really follow the lines, and drawings of people done in an unsteady hand. Actually, drawings of the family done in an unsteady hand. Certainly weird, even for a White Elephant. Maybe it was Brian or one of his kids or something since that would explain the Bible stuff.

During the last swap session the lights in the house went out. 

“Oh great,” my dad said. “The power went out.”

“Good observation,” Great Uncle Albert said.

“DUH DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN,” Billy Bass said.

I looked up at the windows hoping some moonlight would seep in but the snow was halfway up the last pane now and very little crept in. A couple people turned on their phone flashlights.

“Someone should light that candle,” my mom said and Jennifer gave her a dirty look. “We wouldn’t want our phones to die.” I looked to the door facing the bathroom hallway - plenty of light was coming from there. And heat, too. It was coming from my grandparents’ bedroom. As the room got hotter everyone welcomed the warmth, finally noticing again how cold it was outside and how it was starting to get in through the old front door.

I was also starting to really notice a few of the weird things that had been happening tonight. The freak snowstorm that was currently covering the house, Mike’s dead wife picking the rotting pumpkin gift even though she had to have been able to smell it when she picked it up, my grandparents speaking a different language behind the locked door. Something seemed very off about this family gathering, I thought as smoke and heat started to fill the living room. But eventually I finally was able to pinpoint the thing that was bothering me - I was actually enjoying myself for once.

“That’s right,” I thought to myself. “I shouldn’t be having fun - I hate these people!”