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I Hate Christmas (E1-E2)

I Hate Christmas (E1-E2)

I hate Christmas Stories
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E1: I Hate Christmas

A psychic told me that I was going to find love this Christmas. I didn’t believe it of course. I am a God-fearing woman, a psychic does not dictate my life. I met her at a party and she offered to do a card reading for me and my friend, Constance. We were curious so we let her. She told my friend that she was in a love triangle with two guys, which was surprisingly true. I didn’t even know about it until Constance admitted it.

Then she read my cards and said, “Love is coming into your life this Christmas but you need to open your eyes to see what’s right in front of you.”

Sounds ridiculous, I thought so too but that was until I got a phone call six months later.

“Lade, are you coming to the village for Christmas?”

I laughed, “Mummy, when was the last time I followed you guys to the village? You know I hate going.”

She sighed heavily, “You people are not being fair, your brothers too have refused to come. You people cannot come and support your grandfather’s scholarship program. Everyone is going to be there with their children, even Colonel Ambrose’s sons will be there. Yet not even one of my kids will attend.”

“Who is Colonel Ambrose?”

“Your grandfather’s friend, the one that lives next door…”

My interest was piqued, “You’re sure his children are coming?”

“They are already there, they came in from America last week for their mother’s birthday so they’re staying for Christmas. There will be a lot of your age mates there, you might even enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll think about it, mummy.”

I wasn’t going to think about it, I couldn’t go. So what if the Colonel’s son was around, what difference did that make? I still hated going to the village. My decision was final, I was not going anywhere.

***

“This is horrible!” I yelled into the phone, “This is the worst thing that could ever happen, how could you do this to me?”

“It was not my fault ma’am, if my car hadn’t broken down, you would have your dress.”

The girl’s voice on the phone lacked remorse and it only served to infuriate me even more, “Of course, it’s your fault. That dress was supposed to be done last week. You delayed and I waited, now, I have nothing to wear because of you. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not your fault.”

“Ma’am I—“

“What am I supposed to wear now? I’m too far away from home, what do you want me to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do ma’am until tomorrow.”

How could she do this to me?

“How could you do this to me? I knew I should have sown a backup, but then again you would have just messed that up too. This is the last time I work with you, do you hear me? Last time I…” I paused when I noticed the phone was too quiet and looked at my screen to realize the girl had hung up on me. That little witch… I redialed the number but the recorded voice on the other side said the line was “switched off”.

I groaned and shook my head in frustration. This was bad, I was already settled and unpacked in my grandparents’ house in the village, and there was no going back to Lagos. Besides, the whole party was Ankara coordinated tonight, and no matter the substitute outfit I got, I was still bound to look out of place, “This is a disaster.”

“Ahh Omolade, what is it?” Someone asked from behind.

I turned to see my Aunty Tinu, standing at the doorway. I didn’t know how much of the conversation the older woman had heard, so I explained everything.

“Haaaa!” My aunt exclaimed, “What will you do now?”

“I don’t know,” I could feel the tears behind my eyes hanging on by the thinnest thread.

“Hmmm… oya don’t worry, I’m sure grandma should have something your size in her closet. Let’s go and ask her..”

I nodded my head and reluctantly followed.

***

I sat on the top step of the spiral staircase at the back of the house, watching as a little boy chased the garden peacock, begging it to show him its feathers. He laughed every time it jumped away from his advances, a loud infectious cackle. I smiled, he was so adorable it made my ovaries quake. Well, that was until the bird decided to retaliate by pecking his arm. The boy then let out a none-too-cute squeal and burst into tears. I rushed down the steps and swept him into my arms. He held on to me tight, sniffing and pointing at his feathered offender.

“He hurt you? Ohh what a bad bird…” I turned to the bird and scolded, “You’re a bad bird…” Then shooed it away, the bird turned to walk away and as it left, I could swear it sashayed. Right before disappearing into a bend, it spread its feathers as if mocking us. That peacock was not innocent. My actions seemed to placate the boy because his sobs began to calm. I lifted him off the ground and asked, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Jet! Jet!” A man yelled, appearing from the side of the house.

“Daddy,” The boy mumbled and stretched out his arms to the man.

Without giving me more than a momentary glance, the man took his son from my arms, “How many times will I tell you not to run off like that? What happened?”

“Mmmm… tried to bite me…mmm…” He said pointing and rubbing his eyes, seeing his father seemed to reignite Jet’s tears. He pointed in my direction, referring to the corner the bird run off that was coincidentally right behind me.

The man looked at me, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Ohh… he doesn’t mean me ohh… he’s pointing over there…” I stammered and pointed too, “That’s where the bird went…” I don’t know why I felt nervous, his gaze made me feel anxious for some reason.

“Bird?” he asked.

I nodded, “The peacock, he was playing with it and it poked him with its beak.”

The man looked at his son and the boy nodded his head.

“How many times will I tell you not to play with the peacock, oya now will you stop?” the man asked his son playfully, the boy gave his father a very serious nod.

I suddenly felt like I was no longer needed so I made my way back to the top of the staircase and pretended to use my phone as I waited for my visitors to leave. When I didn’t hear any retreating footsteps, I looked down to see them staring at me. Well, just the man, Jet was clutching his father and fiddling with his shirt, “Thank you… for helping him,” the man said.

“No problem,” I replied simply. Now can you go? I wanted to add but didn’t.

“Are you hiding?” he asked suddenly.

“N… no,” I hated that I stammered but his question caught me off guard.

He raised his hands in defense, “No judgment, I’m actually hiding too… well, sort of. I pretended to take a phone call to get away from my parents inside and Jet and I have been roaming the compound since. Then I dropped Jet for a second to answer an actual phone call and just he ran off.”

I might have been misinterpreting it but I got the distinct impression he wanted to join me, so I asked him, “Do you want to sit down?” I could make an exception for guests in my alone time if I’d get to play with little Jet.

The man smiled and hopped up the steps, he settled down on the stoop beside me and set Jet down between his legs and gave him his phone to play with. We were sitting way too close for strangers but I decided not to mention it, “How old is he?” I asked, looking down at the little boy.

“Two, almost three.”

“Wow, he’s tall…” I would have guessed four. His father was a tall man, huge even, so the boy probably still had a lot of growing to do.

“Yeah, he gets that a lot… I’m Derin,” He stretched out his hand to me.

I shook it, “Omolade, people call me Lade.”

“So Lade… why are you hiding?”

I gestured at my dress, the long brown Jalamia, at least two sizes too big and in serious contrast to the blue and white Anco of the evening spoke for itself, “My real outfit didn’t make it to the party, unfortunately, so I had to borrow something from my grandmother. I just got tired of people staring and being too nice to ask why I was dressed this way. I know they’re doing it because they don’t want me to feel bad but it only makes me feel bad.”

He nodded, “Yeah that must suck, I even hate going to parties if I don’t have the uniform.” Of course he understood, he wasn’t wearing the designated Ankara but he was matching the look for the evening in colour.

“Me too!” We laughed together. “So, what’s your damage?”

He shrugged, “I’m hiding from my family.”

“Why?”

At first, he looked unsure of how to answer my question, then he said, “I’m trying to avoid questions about my wife’s whereabouts.”

I chuckled, “Why, where is she? Dead or divorced?”

He went silent and I looked at him, “Telling from your silence I’m guessing one of those is right, I’m really hoping it’s the latter.”

He let out a sigh, “Well she’s definitely not dead so…”

He didn’t sound too happy about that.

“Oh…”

Things between us got quiet. Jet got bored with the phone and gave it back to his dad. I stretched out my hands to him when he took them, I lifted him to my lap.

Derin’s eyebrow raised in surprise, “He likes you… he doesn’t like most people.”

I shrugged trying to look indifferent but inside I was squealing with joy, “Do they know about the divorce? Your family?”

“My brother does, it hasn’t been so easy to tell my parents.”

“I completely understand, Nigerian parents are not very familiar with words like .separation’ or ‘divorce’,” I said with air quotes.

He nodded, “I want to tell them but I don’t know how I’m not looking forward to spoiling their holiday,”

I scoffed.

“What?”

“Uhh… nothing,” I hadn’t realized the sound I made was so loud.

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He turned to face me, “I thought this was an honest conversation.” He didn’t sound offended but he didn’t seem like he was going to let it go.

I sighed, “It’s just… everyone puts these unrealistic expectations on Christmas like it’s not just another day of the year. Nothing actually makes this time special, the world doesn’t automatically become kinder, and hunger and disease don’t disappear. I’m the same person I was last month and I’ll be the same next month. You can tell them today or next week and they’re going to have the same reaction. I think you should just get it over with.”

Derin stared at me for a moment, “Wow!”

I suddenly felt like I said too much, “I’m sorry, this is none of my business, I shouldn’t be telling you what to do.”

“Why are you so cynical about Christmas?” He said, changing the topic.

I shrugged, “Christmas is overrated.”

“Jet, I think we have just met the real-life Grinch,” It was meant to be a joke but he said it with no humor at all, just a wry smile and a neutral tone.

It was almost like I was disillusioning him with my words. The fact made me more confident as I added, “Take this year, for example, I was lying to myself that this season was special. I skipped a girls trip to Tanzania to come here in hopes that I would see a boy I had a crush on when I was twelve years old.”

“Wow, so how did that go?”

“Well, I’ve been sitting at the back of my grandparents’ house for over two hours watching paint dry on their newly renovated boy’s quarters so…”

“Okay, so I’m going to guess, not good.”

“Honestly, I should have known better, every time I think Christmas is special, it always disappoints me.”

My expression made Jet look up and laugh, and so did his dad.

“So, what’s so special about this guy?”

I let out a sigh, I’ve told this story more than a few times to my friends, back then it was fun to tell. Now I felt kind of stupid just thinking about it, “Uhh… he was my first real crush. I met him one summer when I stayed with my grandparents. He lived next door and he would come every day to play football with my brothers. Most of his attention went to them but every once in a while he would come over and talk to me. He was sixteen but he didn’t treat me like I was a little kid, he actually listened when I talked,” I sighed, “It was a long time ago and it’s not like I’ve been pining over him or anything, I just thought that maybe… ugh it sounds stupid to say out loud.”

“That maybe you guys might have a spark.”

The words made me cringe just hearing them, “Yeah…” I looked at him, I wanted to know if he was judging me.

I couldn’t tell what Derin was thinking so I was relieved when he was about to tell me, “I think—“

“Derin! Derin!…” A voice came from the side of the house.

“I’m here,” Derin stood up and picked Jet up from my lap, “My brother,” He explained as he began climbing down the steps, “He’s been covering for me with my parents…”

“Where are you?” The voice called out again

“At the back!”

I could hear his footsteps getting closer.

“I told you to call if you needed me to come back,” Derin said when he got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Well I needed a break from them too,” The brother said, finally showing his face.

Lade shot up from her seat making Derin look back, “Ohh right… sorry… uhh… Lade this is…”

“Shayo?” I blurted out.

Shayo looked up shocked and squinted at her, “Lade? Lade… Ohh wow… it’s been a while, come down so I can see you properly.”

I obliged without thinking. He remembers me, “You remember me?”

Shayo looked at me like I had said the silliest thing, “Of course, I do…”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Derin asked, looking confused.

“Yeah, I hung out with Lade and her brothers one summer a long time ago. I saw your granddad and he mentioned you were around somewhere,” He gave me a once over, “Wow you’re all grown up now.”

Remembering my not-so-appealing attire, I smiled and crossed my arms self-consciously.

“Wait, you know her granddad?”

Shayo looked at his brother like he was slow, “We’re in his house and he’s always in ours next door.”

“Ohh the boy next door,” Derin looked at me with a knowing smile.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I hate Christmas!

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