The Christmas Miracle {WUC}

Hello URPG! It's been years since I last posted a story here, but I can't arrange a competition and not take part myself, so here we go. Hope you enjoy this - should be a significant improvement on the last pile of tripe I last subjected a grader to.

The Christmas Miracle (words: 1937)

Even by her family’s standards, this year’s Christmas party had to be the worst Olive had ever endured.


Sitting under the twisted branches of a Pohutakawa tree, she had escaped the glare of the summer sun but not the feeling that she was stuck inside the world’s largest oven. She was soaked in sweat, and Olive had resorted to holding a can of Fanta against her skin, the frozen metal her only relief from the heat wave.


Why they were outside Olive had no idea. She knew that Aunt Mary and Uncle Peter had spent a fortune installing air conditioning in their home, a system so powerful that it would have Olive shivering in minutes, but they would never host a party inside. No, no, not her family. Christmas was all about ‘celebration’, the family coming together to enjoy each other’s company. There was no way family could possibly come together surrounded by material distractions.


The heat may be slowly roasting her, but Olive would prefer a trip to the Sahara right now over another minute trapped in her uncle’s meticulously manicured back yard. Her brothers, Thomas and Timothy, were running carelessly around, playing some game that seemed to involve shouting as loud as possible. Her mother Naomi sat with her sister watching the two, laughing drolly at their antics. Her father, Steve, stood beside Peter at the barbeque, talking loudly as they clasped beers and spatulas in giant, hairy hands.


How am I related to these people again? Olive stared around her family members: her gossiping mother and aunt, her father roasting meat while debating sports or something dull with Peter. It always seemed strange to think that she could be related to any of them, these strangers she had nothing in common with.


There was only one person in her family that Olive knew she could be related too, and she hadn’t seen her for nearly a year.


Oh Eve, where are you? Olive looked at the empty seats around her, imagining Eve sitting there: Eve, her clothes as black as her hair, her attempt to stand out and defy the rules. It had been a Christmas party two years ago when Olive had tried her first beer at Eve’s insistence; she could still remember her cousin’s brilliant laugh as Olive gagged on the taste.


If Eve was here, this Christmas may be salvaged, but Olive knew that wasn’t going to happen. When she had seen her last holidays, Eve had been distracted, not her usual jokey self. Olive had assumed it had something to do with her boyfriend, a very un-Christian wannabe rocker named Angel (real name status to be confirmed).


Olive had been happy for her cousin; it seemed to be more than just a teenage romance, so she was fine to sacrifice her closest friend if it meant making her happy. But in the weeks that followed, Eve had become more distant, replying to fewer and fewer texts, hanging out less and less until one day she never replied at all.


Olive sighed; dwelling on the past wasn’t going to save her now, but it was all she could do to distract herself from the mental torture of her mother’s gossiping. She and Eve had been thick as thieves for seventeen years, and Olive still had no idea where she was. It had been, what, seven, eight months since she’d seen her? Eve might as well have vanished from the face of the earth. Mary and Peter had said she was at a boarding school for troubled girls, but that didn’t explain the total lack of contact. Eve had seemed quite jumpy and paranoid the last few times they’d met, and Olive wouldn’t be surprised if she had been sent away to rehab. Eve was the master of rebelling, after all, and substance abuse was the one thing she hadn’t covered yet. Olive could imagine Peter and Mary shipping her away to some intense clinic in the middle of the Australian Outback. The very idea that their daughter would be doing anything sacrilegious (or anything to ruin their gleaming church reputations) would be enough for them to banish Eve to the outskirts of society. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but knowing her family, Olive couldn’t rule it out.


“BOO!” Olive leapt out of her seat as two voices suddenly screamed into her ears. The Fanta crashed to the grass, the contents exploding from the top and spraying her dress.


“What the –” Speechless, Olive stared down as the orange soaked through the fabric. Timothy and Thomas were roaring with childish, high-pitched laughter behind her, their faces shining with glee. “YOU SHITS!”


“We don’t allow curses in this household Olive,” Mary said stiffly as she rushed around with napkins to mop up the mess. Olive glowered back at her, her anger not calmed by these unhelpful words.


“LOOK AT MY DRESS!” She screeched. “IT COST $30 AND NOW IT WILL STAIN!” She explained furiously, but all she got in reply was her mother and aunt exchanging looks, their rolling eyes practically screaming Isn’t she being silly?

“Take a napkin,” Mary said in a condescending fashion.


Olive angrily snatched them and attacked the stain, but the orange chemical cocktail simply made the napkins peel away. She looked around for support, but Naomi and Mary were cleaning the seat, wondering aloud if it would leave a mark


“I’ll be inside,” Olive said through clenched teeth, not sure if anyone heard, and marched towards the house. She felt the sun attack her skin the second she left the relative coolness of the shade, but the heat was none of her concern now.


She had been living like this for seven years, ever since her brothers were born. Olive and Eve had been cast aside as soon as the newer, cuter children appeared, bringing the mothers more attention at church as their friends cooed jealously over them. It became a case of ‘they are younger, darlings’ whenever the two did anything wrong, and Olive and Eve had begun to fend for themselves. Since Eve had left, it had made Olive realise one of the main reasons why they were so close; when it came to family, they only had each other.


“Cheer up, Olive!” Peter boomed, surprising Olive again as she walked past the barbecue. She turned bitterly towards her father and uncle, their beaming faces off-putting bar. “It’s Christmas, a time for celebration! Dresses can be replaced, but you can’t replace memories like this!”


Olive remained still and silent for a few moments, letting his nonsense sink in. She stared at their grinning faces as they continued flipping indistinguishable meat, their plastered on smiles too much to handle, and decided she was done.


“You’re right uncle,” Olive said with a sarcastic smile. “I am sorry. Today is all about Santa’s birthday, isn’t it?” She briefly savoured their stunned faces before stepping inside. It had been a mistake and Olive would pay for it, but this act of defiance was enough to make her day. It was nothing compared to what rebel queen Eve would have done, but Olive was satisfied all the same.


She left her shoes on in defiance of another rule, but the garden was too dry and clean to drag anything inside. She wanted to act out, and Olive looked around for an opportunity as she moved towards the bathroom. The chances for mayhem were endless. The carpet was a spotless and smooth like slate, and white walls gleamed as the sun shone through the front door windows. Family photos showed a younger Eve being hugged and held by her parents, and Olive had to look away.


She shivered as she walked down the corridor, the wet patch on her dress sticking to her leg as the air conditioning took effect. Olive tried to remember where the bathroom was but saw only a wooden cross halfway down the hallway. She wouldn’t be surprised if Eve really was a drug addict; Olive probably would have done the same if she had lived in such a cold, controlling environment.


As Eve crossed her mind again, Olive’s eyes fell on the door directly in front of her. She was stunned she had forgotten it was here, but in her defence, it had changed dramatically. The door was bare, as if nothing important lay behind, a few pinholes and flecks of blu-tac the only signs that it had once been inhabited. Olive wondered what now lay behind it, if Mary and Peter had altered the insides as well, and slowly, sentimentally, she reached for the door knob.


Drawn curtains cast dim light across Eve’s room, giving everything a gloomy appearance. The grey carpet went well with the black band posters that decorated her walls, vampire and zombie novels covering the bookshelf. The bed was neater than Olive had ever seen it, a charade at normality undercut by the layer of dust covering the duvet.


Olive swayed awkwardly in the doorway, staring around her cousin’s room without daring to step forwards. It was like when they were five and Eve would get upset when Olive went in without her permission, though those days of childhood innocence and acceptance of the world were long over. She wanted to step in, but Olive couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had been living without Eve for so long and had barely been coping. Being here today, sitting by herself, having no one to defend her, only brought these feelings back and Olive was close to toppling over the edge.


She wanted her cousin back. She wanted her best friend back in her life.


The doorbell rang, the angelic noise echoing down the hallway. Olive snapped back to reality and slammed the bedroom door shut. She wiped a tear away, knowing Eve would have laughed at her for being so frivolous, but Olive had never been as strong as her cousin had.


As no one else was coming for the door, Olive went for it, happy to delay returning to the garden. She was still thinking about Eve as she opened the door, and for a moment she didn’t properly register the dark-haired woman standing on the doorstep.


Olive did a double take when the penny finally dropped. For a moment, she thought she was seeing some heat-induced mirage. Yet there was no denying who the young woman was, in her tight black dress that defied any laws of common sense on such a boiling day. However, Olive was not sure what to make of the cradle sitting on the footpath amongst several suitcases. Only a face was visible amongst the blankets, a bright pink snoozing face unaware of the tension unfolding above her.


“Hey… Merry Christmas…,” the girl said awkwardly, taking a step inside and smiling nervously at Olive. She wasn’t sure how her cousin would react, and Olive wasn’t sure how to either: after months of wondering and questioning, the time a clue in itself, a wave of information had swept over her in a second and it was too much to process. Only a few moments ago she’d wanted her closest friend back, but Olive had no idea what to do now that she was back, a little surprise in tow.


The seconds dragged into minutes, the tension as heavy as the heat outside. It was only when voices sounded from the kitchen that Olive finally smiled; this may be strange, unexpected, but given how entertaining Christmas was about to get, she could forgive her.


Eve was the master of rebelling, after all.