“And the worst job ever is…”
“Having to trim the holly.” My sister finishes for me as she hands me the shears handle first.
I take them gingerly, frowning at her. “You act like you are giving me a gift by letting me do your chores.”
“Carol, if you didn’t want to do my chores, you would get a job.”
“I had a job…” I protest as I step out onto the porch, peering at the prickly leaves of the holly bush warily.
“And you decided going for a sleigh ride with your boyfriend was more important.” She scoffs.
“It wasn’t a sleigh. It was the middle of summer. We went jet skiing.”
My sister shudders. I love how the thought of anything that moves with great speed terrifies her so much. It actually makes me feel a little merry. She always notices when joy enters my heart and tries to squash it. Her hand slides into her pocket to make her lucky coins jingle. Her thin lips pull back from her teeth.
“I don’t care if a reindeer starts singing you a song, you don’t leave your workplace when you agreed to be at work.”
“What song?” I decide to poke the bear.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, if the reindeer was singing ‘Snowman' by the Clarks, I would have to leave. Otherwise, they would probably fire me for singing along.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just trim the holly and then come help me make lunch.”
“Cheer up, sis. I’ve got this.”
“Good.” She slams the screen door and disappears back into the house.
I go to work. I make it halfway through carefully removing offending branches without incident. Then I let my mind wander for a second to that fabulous trip to go jet skiing. The next thing I know, a drop of blood wells up to ornament my fingertip with its painful crimson reminder to pay attention to what I am doing. I mutter under my breath and carry on.
That first injury leads to more. By the time I finish up, my hand throbs uncontrollably. Deep down, I wanted to give up, but I knew my sister wouldn’t accept anything short of me passing out from blood loss as an excuse for failing to finish this task. I step through the door to find her on her knees before the coffee table. Shoes are strewed out on its surface. She has one in her hand, peering at it like an elf whose one true love is cobbling shoes. The glare she offers me somehow intensifies the impression. I stifle a giggle and show her my hands.
“I finished,” I declare proudly on my way to the kitchen.
“You are a bigger mess than Chevy Chase.” My sister informs me as she stands up and joins me.
“Who?” I ask, gently massaging the soap into my skin to get the blood off.
“You know. That actor who was in all those movies where ridiculous things happened to him and his family.”
I shrug. “You know I never got into mom’s movies.”
“You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” I smile as I dry my hands. “I left all the hope for you…”
She rolls her eyes and returns to her shoes. I don’t bother to ask as I take my aching hands upstairs to ponder where to get my sister a lump of coal. I should always have one on hand for her when he holidays come around.
~~I know you were expecting the title to be a lie, but this really wasn’t a story about Christmas until I tacked that last bit onto the end because even a Grinch like me has to get into the holiday spirit eventually. Hope you have found some joy and cheer already in these questionable times. I am hoping to awaken mine more fully with some holiday baking with my tiny humans tomorrow. Anyone who knows me realizes this a dangerous proposition. I am probably going to end up using some green garland as a lasso to get the little clones down from the ceiling…~~
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