Christmas at Emily's

“I wish your sister would decorate the house the way she used to.”

Trevor frowns at me before responding. “What are you talking about? It looks great in here.”

I shake my head in his direction. “She used to make it much more festive. It looks like she forgot to decorate and threw something together last minute.”

He rolls his eyes. “Give her a break, Mom. It’s nice enough that she’s hosting everybody at her house. Besides, she doesn’t have as much time to spend on decorating now that she’s got children of her own.”

I suppose Trevor’s right. Emily does have a lot more on her plate these days. It’s not fair of me to expect everything to be the same as it was years ago.

But it’s Christmas! And she didn’t hang any lights, she didn’t put out any nutcrackers, she didn’t even place a wreath on the front door. At the very least, though, she did put up a Christmas tree in the living room. So I guess she did what she could.

I’m about to mention these things to Trevor when Emily walks into the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing in here?” She asks.

Trevor answers for us. “I’m just making Mom a cup of tea.”

The two of them exchange a look as if to say “Mom’s being grumpy again.” I let it go unargued with. Seeing that sort of sibling bonding from them is rare now that they’re both grown up.

“Well, the kids are asking for you. I think they want to play a game before dinner.”

“A game? That sounds lovely,” Trevor replies before placing the mug of tea in front of me and passing through the doorway into the living room.

Now that we’re alone, I take a longer look at Emily. She’s grown into such a beautiful woman. I feel immense pride for her, even if she insists on being contrarian to all of the Christmas traditions I taught her. (For heaven’s sake, she’s wearing a bright pink blouse! On Christmas! We used to all wear red and green.)

“How’s the tea?” Emily asks me as I take my first sip.

“Perfect,” I respond. “Your brother knows just how I like it.”

Emily nods at me with a tight-lipped grin. “Well, I really hope you’ll come inside and play a game with all of us.” She gestures into the living room.

“Of course I will,” I tell her as I begin to stand up. She starts toward me to give me a hand, but I shoo her away. She always wants to treat me like a helpless old lady. I shouldn’t blame her, though. The younger generations always view their parents as older than they really are.

I cross the kitchen with Emily at my heels and walk through the doorway. The living room is a magnificent sight. The kids are sitting on the floor, toys strewn all around them. Yes, I think. This is what Christmas should be like. I make my way over to the recliner in the corner of the room and sit down.

One or two minutes later, Emily is standing in the doorway. “Come on, everybody. It’s time to eat.” She gestures into the dining room.

Huh? I thought we were going to play a game. Emily just invited me into this room and she wants me to move already? What happened to the game?

I’m not going to complain about it. If I do, everyone’s going to accuse me of being a grumpy old grandma again.

I shouldn’t be upset anyway. Maybe the food finished cooking sooner than expected. Maybe there’s simply no time for a game. Emily’s trying her best—I don’t want her to think I’m unhappy with her hosting.

I grab my mug of tea and follow everyone else to the dining room table. Emily’s prepared a big, glorious turkey dinner. It looks and smells delicious.

I fill my plate and lean back in my chair, looking around at my beautiful family. I’m so glad that everyone could be here to celebrate the holiday together—Wait a minute. Who’s that? Down at the other end of the table, sitting next to my son-in-law, Brian. There’s a young girl. She looks about ten years old. I’ve never seen her before.

Is she friends with one of my grandkids? She must be. That’s the only explanation I can come up with. But when did she get here? I hadn’t noticed her in the living room with everyone else. And what is she doing here on Christmas? She should be at home with her own family. And why didn’t anyone introduce me to her, or at least let me know she was coming?

I’ll feel so sorry later, when we’re all exchanging presents, and she has nothing to unwrap.

I turn to look across the table toward Emily, hoping to quietly demand some answers without causing a scene. I don’t want to make this poor girl feel unwelcome. I tilt my chin toward Emily in an effort to get her attention. Emily doesn’t react, and I notice that she changed her shirt from earlier. She had been wearing that bright pink blouse, but now she’s wearing a beige sweater. That’s weird. If she was going to change her clothes, she could at least have put on something more festive.

I bite my tongue and begin digging into the meal. As I chew, I pay close attention to the kids at the other end of the table. I see Emily’s two sons, Lucas and Mikey, sitting next to each other. Beside them is Trevor’s daughter, Sarah, and next to her is the mysterious friend. I should say something to her—Ask what her name is, or if Santa brought her anything good this morning. But I’m sure there’s some unspoken reason why no one’s introduced her to me, and Emily will probably get angry with me if I start interrogating this girl at the dinner table. I’ll have to ask Trevor about her later, away from everyone else.

The next thirty minutes pass by fairly quickly. We eat our delicious meal, everyone talks about school and work, and I insist on helping with the clean-up, despite Emily’s several attempts to dismiss me. 

When we finish loading the leftovers into the fridge, I sit back down at the table and look over at the kids again. I wonder which of my grandkids this girl is friends with. She seems to be much older than all the other kids.

Emily approaches the table and turns to me with a big smile on her face. “Alright, Mom. Are you ready to open presents?”

I smile back at her. “Absolutely!” 

I’m about to stand up to move to the living room so we can all sit around the Christmas tree, but Emily stops me. She places a big gift bag on the table in front of me. 

“This one is from me and Brian.”

I’m confused. We’re going to open presents here? At the dining room table? This is getting ridiculous. First she skips decorating, and now we’re not even going to sit around the tree? It’s Christmas, for crying out loud! It’s as if Emily is pulling all the holiday spirit out of the day on purpose, to send me some sort of message.

She hates the traditions I taught her. She’s always been this way, ever since she was a kid. She has to do everything her own way, because there’s something inherently wrong with mine.

But she cooked an incredible dinner for everyone. And she’s giving me a present. And I do not want her to think that I am ungrateful.

I reach into the bag and sift through the tissue paper until I finally find the gift. It’s heavy. Emily helps me lift it out of the bag. The picture on the box shows a record player.

“I know you still have all of your old vinyl records from when you were young,” Emily says. “I figured it would be nice to be able to actually play them again.”

I smile at her. She’s right. I haven’t had a working record player in decades. “This is a wonderful present, Emily. Thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like it.” She places another, smaller gift bag in front of me. “This one’s from the kids.”

That’s when I notice that Emily changed her clothes again. Now it seems she’s decided against the beige sweater and gone back to the bright pink blouse. It’s peculiar to me that she keeps changing, but I suppose at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter what she’s wearing.

I reach into the gift bag and pull out a white mug. It’s customized with a photo of me hugging Lucas and Mikey. It’s a beautiful mug, and I will certainly be using it for tea every morning.

“The boys chose the photo themselves,” Emily tells me.

“Well, they couldn’t have done a better job. Thank you so much,” I say with the biggest smile I can muster. 

I see Trevor starting to bring a present over to me, but I jump up. Someone else should have a turn first. I start making my way to the living room to get the presents I brought for the kids. (I put them under the tree, like one typically does on Christmas.)

“Where are you going, Mom?” Trevor calls after me.

“Just getting the presents I brought,” I tell him.

There’s silence for a moment as I continue walking away from them.

“Mom, what are you talking about?” Emily asks.

Oh, here she goes again. She’s going to insist that I wasn’t supposed to buy presents for the kids. She’ll say “They have enough toys already,” or “You don’t need to spend so much money on them,” or something else perfectly unfair to a child on Christmas Day.

When I finally enter the living room, I am met with a surprise. 

The Christmas tree is gone. That’s strange. It was just here, just before dinner. Where did it go? And where are all the presents I brought? They’re not here, either.

I turn around and look back into the dining room. “Emily,” I ask, “where did the tree go?”

She furrows her brow and exchanges a look with Trevor before answering me with a question of her own.

“What tree?” She sounds more annoyed than inquisitive.

I look around the room at everyone else. Surely they know what I’m talking about.

“The Christmas tree. It’s not here anymore. Did somebody move it?”

Emily just stares at me with a grim look on her face.

Trevor cuts in from his seat at the table. “There’s no Christmas tree, Mom.”

“Well, there was. It was in here an hour ago.”

“No, Mom.” Trevor sounds stern. “There’s no Christmas tree. It’s April.”

What? What is he talking about?

“April? No, it’s Christmas. That’s why we’re all here today. To celebrate Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas, Mom.” Emily’s voice trembles as she says it. “It’s your birthday. We’re celebrating your eightieth birthday.”

I blink a few times in her direction. Trevor makes his way across the room and puts his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Emily. She just got a little confused. Everything’s okay.”

I look toward the other end of the room, where the children are gathered around the table. They’re staring back at me, the whole lot of them, including the young friend that I haven’t met.

When my eyes meet hers, she jumps up from her seat and runs over to Trevor. She wraps her arms around his waist and cries, “Dad, is Grandma okay?”

Huh?

That’s Trevor’s daughter?

Yes. Trevor has two daughters. Yes, I remember now. That’s Trevor’s daughter. Jenny. Or Jessie. Something like that.

“It’s alright. Grandma just got a little confused.” He walks her back over to the table before addressing me again.

“It’s your birthday, Mom. It’s April fourteenth. Christmas was four months ago.”

“Yes, of course. I know that,” I tell them. “I was just joking. It was a joke, that’s all.”

Nobody says anything as I make my way back to the dining room table and sit down in an empty seat.

I keep my eyes down for a moment, unwilling to view the horrible faces my loved ones are giving me.

Slowly, I lift my gaze. I turn to my right and see Trevor’s wife, Alyssa, looking at me with sad eyes. I had forgotten she was here.

She’s wearing a beige sweater.