A very unmerry Christmas

***contains swearing***

Another year on its way out, another set of new year’s resolutions to be discarded with January firsts’ mother of all hangovers. Still unmarried and childless and in the same job I’ve been in for 8 years with no promotion in sight at the ripe age of 36. That means another wonderful Christmas dinner where the topic of conversation will be about my pathetic life. My brother will boast about how he’s the smartest entrepreneur the world has ever seen, and his bachelor life of revolving door women will be celebrated. Meanwhile, my sisters rugrats will be pulling on her 20th century dress crying about how they’ve soiled themselves again and everyone will all be like aww how sweet. Makes me sick. Mother will be pursing her lips with a look of constipated disappointment and my father will be at least half a bottle of rum deep before I even step through the door. Yay for Christmas.

Every year is the same and every year on the drive over, I fight the urge to turn around and wonder why I even bother putting myself through it. But somehow, sharing DNA and having been raised with the basic needs of shelter, food and someone to play with, entitles everyone to think that we owe each other the fake pleasantries of a family Christmas dinner. Truth be told none of us could stand one another.

I have shortened the time I stay there now though, managing to get it down to just one night to rest my head after the inevitable, and much needed over- indulgence of wine, followed by a very hasty departure. This was preferable to the week I used to have to endure. Its frowned upon and mentioned every year, but necessary for my sanity. The cat sitter can only do the night I’ll explain and that usually settles it. I’ve grown quite fond of my imaginary cat, who needs to think of a new ‘emergency’ fake phone call every year. 

I was currently getting into my car ready to make the trip having had procrastinated the whole morning. It was bitterly cold and I chose to lay wrapped up on the sofa watching trash tv until the very last second. I’d already had several phone calls, which I had ignored, as well as some sarcastic texts about when they could be expecting me. With any luck they’d start eating without me, as let’s be honest, I will be heading to the local pub when I arrive for a quick glass of wine. That way, I could at least plaster a fake smile on my face for the first 30 minutes before shit hits the fan. One year I got plastered at this pub and shit hit the fan a lot quicker, however, this year I was determined to be the bigger person and get through it without us being at each other’s throats by the end of the night. Then again, I have a short fuse and didn’t have much hope for this, but the plan is to keep a low profile, smile and nod while counting down the hours until I can leave.

Before I knew it, I was approaching the warm welcoming lights of the pub and hurried in out of the cold. I sat at my usual spot at the bar and was handed my glass of merlot before I had even taken my coat off.

“That time again?” The bartender, whose name I always forgot, asked.

“Yup, I’m gonna be on my best behaviour.” I said. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled before heading over to serve somebody else. 

I downed the first glass to ease the butterflies in my stomach before having another. I had turned my phone off at the third call and sat contemplating on getting drunk and holding up in a hotel for the night before heading home. But even though I don’t think I would be wrong in doing that, the guilt would be too much. I really didn’t like them very much, but I did love them and for the most part I had a good childhood. It just turned to crap when I got older and got a life of my own; albeit pathetic. I liked my job and it paid me well enough, I liked my small flat in London and the bustling city that I have spent many a night having fun and dancing with my girlfriends after a boozy brunch. 

I decided I couldn’t hold off any longer and made my way over to my parents, reminding myself that if anything I can control how I respond. Who knows, maybe this year will be different? I tapped on the door hesitantly and was greeted by my brother. He gave me a big hug, lifting me off my feet.

“There she is!” 

He actually seemed happy to see me which was nice, though to be fair, I was the fun one. I walked in and the smell of food was inviting. I hung my coat and made my way to the dining room, where everyone was already seated.

“Ah she graces us with her presence. “ My sister muttered along with an eye roll. I smiled gingerly; “it’s great to see you too.” I said sarcastically. My two nieces ran over and gave me a big hug.

“Aunty Abbey!”

“Hey cuties, I have presents for you both, but you have to find them later.” I whispered, making a mental note to hide them.

“Now now,” my mother said, “we’re going to have a nice dinner this year.” My dad grinned into his glass of rum and we all exchanged questioning looks. 

“Pass the wine.” I said to my brother, feeling too sober for this shit.

As usual things were a little awkward, no one ever really knew how to start a normal conversation and I was keeping a low profile, so was not going to be the one to speak first. We just sat for while picking at our food and gulping down booze in silence.

“Mama, this is one of your best meals yet.” My sister beamed. Me and my brother looked at each other and held in snickers. She was always the beggy one, had to be the favourite. Such a kiss arse. Realistically the turkey was dry and almost everything else was overdone.

“So Abbey, how’s things with you? You still working with..” My mother paused, forgetting the name of the company I had been working at for 8 years. 

I smiled, holding back the eye roll; “ yes, yes I am.” I replied. Thankfully, she dropped it but there it was, that taught grin and the ever growing disappointment in her eyes, followed by me feeling shitty about myself again. 

“Anna, how are the little ones getting on at the new school?” 

My sister rambled for a good twenty minutes about how bright her kids were, while one of them picked her nose for the same amount of time. She then went on about her marriage and how great that is, yet here we are again and he’s nowhere to be seen. Starting to sound like my imaginary cat. My brother then butt in and went on about how much money he was making and my father excused himself to watch the sports channel. I could feel the outburst coming as my patience wore thin and chugged it down with some more wine.

“Honey, you really should be trying to find someone or do something with your life.” My mum said to me. “Surely you can’t be happy? Alone on the holidays, with your cat. (I mentally chuckled as she used air quotations) I’m just concerned sweetheart.” I always loved how she would mask her hurtful words with things like honey and sweetheart. But I was on a roll, I said nothing and bit my tongue. My siblings changed the subject about themselves again and I watched the clock as another 40 minutes went by.

“Hey sis, I know a few really great single guys that you would love.” My brother said. He continued speaking, but I drowned him out, feeling the heat in my face rise as the anger started to surface. My sister chimed in about how my life is in shambles and I’m not getting any younger and that was it for my peacekeeping.

“Will you all piss off!” I shouted, standing in my chair. “Acting like your all so bloody perfect, you’re all delusional! And yes mother I am happy, thank you for asking, no need for your concern, and Joe I’m not interested in your cave man, walking STD friends, nor do I require your opinions about my life Anna! Dad has the right idea, I’m off to drink!.” With that, I walked out and headed over to the pub to drown my sorrows, deciding that this would be the last Christmas dinner I endure with my family.