Chapter 2- Merry Christmas, I Couldn’t Care Less

--- Alexis, December 24rd, 2022. 9:07 AM ---

“Please, don’t leave me.”
The voice that spoke was hollow and frail. It was empty, the voice of someone who had lost everything, trying desperately to hold onto something they knew they could never have.

My entire field of vision was blindingly white. The fresh snow went on undisturbed as far as the eye could see, in every direction except one.
I knew there was a house behind me before I could even turned around. I had forever seared its image into my mind, and the feeling it gave me in the pit of my stomach was unmistakable. Only one place could made me feel this way.
The house looked like any other two story house from where I stood, painted in that same plain and basic beige color that countless other houses were.
If I were to get closer I’d start to notice the more less-than-pleasant details about the house, like the unfinished doors and windows that would let anything inside. Winter’s unforgiving breezes, spiders, and all the nasty insects were free to come and go as they pleased.
The house’s interior was forever tainted with the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. The kind of smell that no amount of work could ever manage to scrub away.
Standing over me were the silhouettes of everyone I knew. They had their backs turned to me, all of them walking away in every direction. I called out again and again but none of my desperate sobs or pleas got any of them to turn around. No one so much as slowed down.
The air was haunted with the sound of sneakers making fresh prints in the snow. The ugly sound echoed and echoed, carried by winter’s harsh winds.
All the while, I could feel myself be pulled back closer and closer to that house. To the one place I’d swore to myself I would always do anything in my power not go back to.
I was powerless to stop myself from being dragged towards the house, unable to even stop any of the people from walking away without looking back. All I could do was cry and scream, like a toddler throwing a fit in the store. The snow started to come down harder and harder, burying me deeper as I drew closer to the house.
Just as the snow finished completely covering my head, my face soaked with tears and my throat raw from screaming, the sound of a thud brought me back to my senses.
It took me a minute and more than a couple deep breaths to finally calm down enough to realize what was going on.
I was in my room, laying on the floor just next to my bed. I was still wrapped in the three blankets I kept on my bed throughout winter, tangled up as if I’d spent all night thrashing around in my sleep.
I’d only just flung myself back onto my bed without removing myself from the blankets when I heard the footsteps indicating Cindy was reentering the room.
“Seriously?” Her voice, despite my best efforts, managed to reach me through all my layers of blankets. Soundproof they were not.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think you’re being overdramatic?”
“No.”
“Come on, maybe it won’t be so bad this year.”
“And maybe the cows will freeze over tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure that’s how the saying goes.”
“I’ve heard it both ways.”
“Come on,” Cindy finally grew tired out of our game, literally dragging me out of bed as I kicked and screamed.
Now, as both a side note and a segway, why is it that when you’re in school two hours means six days but when you desperately don’t want to do something two hours means six minutes?
Regardless of the reason, the time to leave came a lot faster than I would have liked or asked for. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the driveway next to the same house that had haunted my dreams only a couple hours ago.
I suppose it was for the best that my eyes had completely locked onto the ground as I relished in the last thirty seconds of peace, discounting the internal meltdown, I’d get for the rest of the day. If I had looked up and seen that other car in the driveway, I probably would have run away from this house again.
It was Max who knocked on the door as I hid behind Cindy, suddenly becoming very self conscious of an outfit I would love to wear almost any other day of the year.
The dress itself wouldn’t have looked all that special to most girls. It had a simple red velvet (the fabric not the food) bodice, with a knee length plaid skirt colored red, green, and white. Under it I wore a pair of white tights because of the cold, and white patent faux leather shoes with a bow on the toe.
My hair was french braided over my shoulder in it’s usual style, a white ribbon tied into a bow tied at the bottom.
To most people, there would have been nothing special about the outfit. But to me, it meant everything, or at least it did until I was standing on this porch. It was exactly what I had wanted to wear for the first seven years of my life, even though I repeatedly had had it drilled into my head that it could never happen.
Today, especially here, I would rather be wearing almost anything else.
It felt like an eternity had passed before the door finally opened and when it did I hid behind Cindy even more, if such a thing was even possible.
The person who answered the door was probably the last person I would have ever expected to. It was then that I cursed myself for not seeing the extra car in the driveway.
The man at the door was tall and strong, the kind of person you’d instantly peg as someone who played sportsball all throughout their high school life and probably got a sports scholarship into college.
His hair was the same brown as the colors of the leaves with the first rain of fall. It was cut short in a military style. His eyes, which I can only describe as storm gray, were almost completely unreadable. They displayed strong emotion, but I didn’t know if it was good or bad.
“Greg?” I heard Grandma’s voice break the momentary silence as she addressed her son. “I thought you were still stationed in Europe.”
“So did I,” When he laughed, you could almost ignore his tough exterior and see a kind and caring person shine through. “I guess I can only call it a Christmas miracle. Max and Cindy, it’s great to see you guys again. It’s been too long.”
“Yeah,” Cindy replied.
“Alright then,” Greg announced, starting to crouch down like he was getting ready talk to a child. “You must be the niece I’ve heard so much about.”
For as much as I wanted to yell ‘No I’m not!’ and run away as fast as I possibly could, my legs and vocal cords betrayed me. I couldn’t do anything except extend my own hand to shake the one he had extended in my direction. It was surprisingly warm and soft, given its rough appearance.
“Well, we should probably head in,” Greg announced as he stood back up. “Unless, of course, you want those two to handle all the cooking. But trust me, you don’t want that.”
I was still mostly in a haze as I blindly followed Max and Cindy inside, towards the kitchen. I was then was both kind of relieved and also kind of disappointed that looks couldn’t actually kill.
“Cody’s not with you?” Grandma asked Greg as she walked into the kitchen, unphased by the cold, harsh glares from the people waiting in the kitchen.
“Still away at the school. Said he’d be down in a few days if he could make it.”
Cody was Uncle Greg’s only kid, and if I remembered correctly he would have just started college this year. Although I had only seen Cody a handful of times throughout my life, seeing as he had lived with his mom somewhere across the country, I was kind of glad he wasn’t here too. The last thing I needed was another person judging me right now.
I prepared myself then and there for what I knew was going to be a very long day.

--- Max ---

The room stayed silent for all of 6 seconds after Cindy and Alexis walked out, heading who knows where since Cindy can’t cook to save her life and Alexis was too young, among the more obvious reasons.
I actually had to wonder where they went. Although none of us took much of anything with us three years ago, by the first time we were legally forced to come back to see our parents, almost everything had vanished.
Wow. That actually sounds really bad when you phrase it like that. Actually, I doubt there’s a good way to say it.
“Good riddance,” Mom snapped me out of my thoughts once they were out of sight.
“Oh come on,” Uncle Greg sighed as he went back to cutting the vegetables. “It’s Christmas! The time of giving, miracles, and family.”
“It’d feel a whole lot more like a miracle if I didn’t have to see that thing.”
“I don’t like snow anymore than you do but if you hate it that much, just move to Florida or something.”
“You know very well that I wasn’t referring to snow! What that kid is does goes against the laws of nature and you know it!”
“Wow,” Greg sighed as he set the knife down. I’d imagine he didn’t want the temptation that came with holding it while having this discussion. “When we were younger I didn’t know anything, but now it seems that I now know everything. I don’t, however, understand it. Please humor me for a second. What tree exactly has ‘You must live your entire life defined only by what’s in your pants?’ naturally engraved in its bark as it grows? And more importantly, why would I listen to a tree anyway?”
“What…” Mom was too confused to reply for a second, probably already so drunk her mind couldn’t possibly keep up. “You know that’s not what I meant! It goes against God and the bible.”
“Does it?” Greg let the rhetorical question hang there for a second before he went on. “Please tell me exactly where in the bible it says anything of the sort.”
“I don’t exactly…” Dad had started before Greg cut him off.
“You know what the bible does say though? Galatians 2:28. ‘There is neither Greek nor Jew, slave nor free, male nor female. For you are all one, in Jesus Christ.’ So does the bible actually say anything to back up what you’re saying? Hint, the answer is a definite no.”
“That’s not how hints work,” Grandma’s voice made it obvious she was trying hard not to laugh as she listened to them argue.
“Who the hell cares what the bible says,” Mom cut back in, drunkenly smacking the table with a balled up fist hard enough to shake it.
“Wow,” Greg sounded astonished for a second, maybe because she managed to form a whole sentence without stuttering. “You sure are quick to throw away that evidence, which was also your only evidence, when it no longer supports your point. Ok so let’s listen to priests. If I went and asked my friendly neighborhood priest, he’d tell me it’s my God-given right to kick my seven-year old kid to the street because I hated the color shirt they had on right?”
“Well, of course not. It’s a shirt. What does that matter?”
“Great. So it’s officially not ok to kid your kid to the street because of anything they choose to wear, since it’s none of your business. For those of you wondering at home, that includes all manor of clothing.”
“Stop twisting my words!” Mom screamed, knocking over the innocent glass bowl that currently held the stuffing. “There’s a difference between a shirt’s color and a boy wearing dresses!”
“Why is there a difference? Because you want there to be one? I don’t see another reason. Besides, the point is moot anyway. Alexis doesn’t look like any boy I’ve ever met.”
“Well on his birth certificate,” Mom started with a smile that looked like it was ripped straight out of How The Grinch Stole Christmas.
“Yeah, well it also says three pounds and two ounces,” Grandma reminded her. “Things change.”
“Well since you have yet to make a single proper argument,” Greg broke the silence about a minute later. “I’d like to make my own. ‘If any of you is without sin, let him throw the first stone.’”
“Wrong,” Grandma corrected Greg. “John 8:7b is, ‘Let him who is among you without sin be the first to cast a stone at her.’”
“Is there any chance I’ve heard it both ways?”
“Maybe,” Grandma just shrugged off the question. “It’s all semantics anyway.”
“Then why did you correct…”
“What the hell does any of that have to do anything? I’m not the sinner!” Mom’s words were so slurred, either from being drunk or from rage, I could only barely make out what she had said. She swung her arms out, this time knocking over another bowl.
“Wow,” Greg just stared in wonder for a moment before speaking up again. “You really do miss the logic of everything, even after all these years. My God looks down a hell of a lot more on any parents who would throw their seven year old to the wolves rather than accept that there are other viewpoints in this world than theirs!”
It all happened so fast, I’m not sure who threw the first punch. But the next thing I knew Uncle Greg had knocked Dad who was now bleeding from his nose. Mom was standing next him screaming bloody murder.
“Wow,” Grandma said as she checked the clock on the microwave before we all started to leave. “Forty-five minutes? That’s gotta be a new record even for us. You should’ve came home three years ago.”

--- Alexis, 12:07 AM Christmas Day ---

This may come as a big surprise to you, but an old run-down house full of holes is about as soundproof as my three blankets.
Despite Cindy’s best efforts I heard everything that was said earlier very clearly.
I’m not sure if it was that exactly, but I couldn’t quite fall asleep that night.
My eyes stayed locked on the alarm clock, it’s crimson letting floating in the darkness. I watched as the numbers counted up again and again, marking every minute I couldn’t just fall asleep.
I finally gave in, trying to quietly slip out of my room to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I had never noticed just how loud our floorboard actually creaked until today.
I had just finished shutting the fridge as quietly as I could, only to then immediately drop the water bottle as a voice spoke out of what seemed like nowhere.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep? What if Santa doesn’t come because you’re up?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said to Uncle Greg as I picked up the bottle of water I thankfully hadn’t opened yet. “And you’re welcome to wait up for whoever you want, just be prepared for a long wait.”
“Wait… Are you trying to tell me there’s no such thing as Santa?”
“Yes.”
“Wow… I’m not sure how to handle this news.”
“I’m sure you’ll bounce back,” I muttered.
“At least tell me the tooth fairy’s real.”
“Why would you want to believe in a magical creature who has nothing better to do than pay kids for their old teeth?”
“Point taken. I don’t know though, it’s nice to believe in the magic in the world.”
“There’s no magic in the world. Just cold and harsh science and fact.”
“Did you know that it’s possible to move objects using only light? Scientists all the way back in 2010 figured out how to move objects with nothing but light. Taking into account both that and the fact that there’s now a video game system that can project directly into your mind? Maybe there’s someone out there who can understand it all, but to me it sure seems like magic. And even understanding the science behind all of it would feel pretty magical.”
“Your point?”
“It’s all in the eye of the beholder. Magic, science, art, beauty… They’re all things people pretend to know, but no one can ever know what they truly are. It’s all about how you look at them to makes up what they are.”
“I still can’t see your point.”
“People will tell you that something’s a certain way, or that it doesn’t and can’t exist. Or that you can’t be or do something. ‘It’s just how the world works,’ they’ll tell you, claiming you need to face reality. But the iPhone didn’t exist until thirteen years. And have you ever seen one of the earliest iPhones? Those things were a mess. It’s always important to remember that about life. People fail to see the possibilities, and end their lives drowning in the false veil of ‘reality’ rather than embracing the potential and hope that exists in the world.”
“That’s really beautiful Socrates, but can I get back to bed now?”
For some reason, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, drifting into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.