The Best Worst Christmas Gift
written by: Peggy Gerber
Vicky glowed with anticipation as she ripped open the Christmas present from her Aunt Susan, but when she saw what it was, the disappointment hit her like a blow to the head. She froze, holding the gift away from her body as if it were dog excrement. Unable to accept this calamity, she squeezed her eyes shut, praying she had made a terrible mistake. When she opened them again, she was still holding a stupid poetry book.
A wave of hysteria began to build up inside her, and Vicky did her best to stifle it. She knew if she cried, her mother would lecture her about how Christmas was not about the gifts, so she did the only thing she could, she turned to her aunt and, with a lump in her throat the size of a boulder, choked out, “Thank you, Aunt Susan.”
As the rest of her family continued to open gifts, Vicky slunk to the floor and put her head in her hands. She didn’t understand why her aunt would give her such an awful gift. She wracked her brain trying to figure out what she might have done wrong. For fifteen years, her aunt had always given her the most amazing Christmas presents. She looked forward to it all year long. It was the highlight of her Christmas.
Just a year earlier, her aunt had given her a beautiful pair of Iggy’s boots, the really expensive ones the popular girls wore. She still sometimes basked in that wonderful memory, and how her mom said she was lit up brighter than the Christmas tree. The boots made her feel so special, and they were so cozy she slept in them that first night. The morning after, she woke up early and wrote her aunt a five-page thank-you note, showering each paragraph with hearts and flowers.
Now, not only had she gotten a horrible gift, but she had just watched her brother open a box containing the expensive video game he wanted. He was so happy he was dancing around the living room, hooting and hollering like a crazed hyena. Vicky felt the jealousy rage through her like a typhoon.
At the dinner table that night, Vicky had no appetite, and when her brother asked her to pass the gravy, she spilled the entire thing onto his lap. As his mouth dropped open, she stuffed a handful of mashed potatoes into it.
With her family gaping in horror, Vicky’s father raced to her side, grabbed her wrist, and escorted her away from the table. She stomped off to her room on leaden feet, tossed the poetry book onto the floor, and kicked it under the bed. She then buried her face in her pillow and let the tears flow.
At the end of the evening, when her parents called her to come downstairs to say goodbye to the guests, she refused. Little could she have known she was missing out on her last opportunity to hug her aunt.
Vicky watched out her window as her Aunt Susan wrapped her jacket tightly around her shoulders. She slipped more than once as she made her way to the car, and Vicky began to grow anxious. She knew her aunt wanted to get home to take care of the cat, but she also knew if she invited her in for a sleepover, she would be safe, and one of her neighbors could feed Fluffy. She opened the window to call out to her, then changed her mind.
A few hours later, while she was sleeping, her parents received a call. Aunt Susan had been in an accident and was in a coma. When her mom told her the news the next morning, Vicky collapsed on the floor, barely able to breathe. She began moaning how it was all her fault. She begged her mother to take her to the hospital so she could say goodbye.
Though her mother had tried to warn her, nothing could have prepared her for how devastating the visit would be. Her aunt’s head was heavily bandaged, and there were tubes coming out of every part of her. Vicky’s body shook with grief as she pulled a chair next to the bed and took her aunt’s hand in hers. She began to cry deep, guttural sobs full of guilt and regret, begging for forgiveness.
The next morning, at five a.m., Vicky experienced would she would later describe as the most vivid dream of her life. She dreamt her aunt was sitting on her bed and shaking her awake. The bandages were gone, and she was healed. It felt so real, Vicky could even smell her perfume.
As her vision continued, her aunt said, “I’m sorry I have to leave you, honey, but I couldn’t go without giving you this message. When you wake up, I want you to find your poetry book and turn to page fifty-eight. There’s something very special for you there. I also need you to know that I forgive you, and there’s nothing to feel guilty about. We had fifteen years of a beautiful relationship, and I know you love me.”
As Vicky’s eyes filled with tears, Aunt Susan gently floated up over her bed and blew her a kiss, “Take care of Fluffy for me. I’m counting on you.”
The second she awoke, Vicky jumped out of bed and found the poetry book. She quickly turned to page fifty-eight and discovered the poem on that page had been written by her aunt. It was called, “My Special Niece,” and it was a beautiful sonnet describing how much Vicky meant to her.
Tears cascaded down Vicky’s face as she read the poem over and over again. After turning away for a minute to grab a tissue, she noticed there was an envelope clipped to the opposite page. Her heart raced as she tore it open and pulled out a gift certificate for a writing class. The accompanying note said, “When I read your thank you note last Christmas, I was blown away. You have such a gift. You are a brilliant writer. It is my hope that you will take these classes and let your talent fly you to the moon. I’ll be the first one in line to buy your book. I love you so much. Aunt Susan.”
Vicky stared at the note with such concentration she didn’t hear her mother walk into her room. Her mom sat on her bed, put her arms around her shoulders, and murmured, “Aunt Susan passed away at five o’clock this morning. I’m so sorry.”
Vicky began crying on her mother’s shoulders when suddenly she remembered her aunt’s request. “What about Fluffy?” she panted.” I promised I’d take care of Fluffy.” Vicky ran to the closet and frantically began pulling out clothes. “We have to go to Aunt Susan’s apartment right now and get her.”
Vicky’s mom furrowed her brows in confusion. “When did Aunt Susan ask you that?” She sighed, “Give me a couple of days to think about it.”
Vicky got on her knees and begged, “Please, Mom, you won’t have to do anything. I’ll do all the work. I’ll take great care of Fluffy. I promise.”
The next Christmas, the grief hung in the air as thick as fog. At dinner time, the family sat at the table sharing memories of Aunt Susan, and the pain was so palpable nobody could eat. When it was Vicky’s turn to speak, she stood up, cleared her throat, and read aloud her first published poem. It was called, “My Special Aunt,” and it was a poem about the love she shared with her favorite aunt.
When she sat back down, Fluffy jumped on her lap and snuggled up next to her. “I miss her too,” she whispered to the cat. “I miss her too.”
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