Together for Christmas

    Catherine leaned her tired body against the archway into the livingroom and sipped her spiked coffee. She let the Bailey's swirl on her tongue and silently thanked God for the gift of alcohol. Unfortunately, it wasn't strong enough to dull the angst over her demolished livingroom.  Scraps of cheerful Christmas paper lie wilted over half naked Barbie dolls.  A CD was out of it's case and carelessly tossed aside.
   
    "Shouldn't be long before something is broken," she mumbled over the rim of her cup.
   
    "Mom, can I open this now?" Bryson her oldest asked, anxiously shaking an enormous box containing at least two thousand Legos. Her toes cringed thinking about the inevetable pain of stepping on strayed pieces over the next few months.
   
    "I told you nothing else until this mess gets cleaned up."
   
    "Oh, Catherine.  It's Christmas!" Louise, the mother-in-law from hell, chimed in. "Bryson, honey you open whatever you want. Mommy can clean the mess up later."
   
    Catherine grit her teeth as Bryson mercilessly tore at the box.  She retreated to the kitchen for a refill, but still  managed to overhear Louise say to her daughter, "Sara, Santa forgot to put the streamers on your new bike. Goodness, I wonder what else he may have forgotten?"
   
    Slamming the silverware drawer closed, Catherine cringed.  She and Mark had been up until three that morning assembling the bike, with nothing more than an allen wrench and a set of instuctions in Mandarin Chinese.  Apparently the bike had been such a great deal for a reason. It would be a miracle if the damn thing made it down the street.   
     
    "Just two more days," Mark whispered in her ear.  "Just think about the satisfaction of leaving them at the curb of the airport and driving away."
   
    Catherine closed her eyes and tried to imagine that joyous moment. "Why can't they take a cab?"
   
      "Real nice, Cate.  That's the Christmas spirit." He kissed her cheek. "I'm going in. Take a break, I'll cover you."
   
    Every muscle she never knew she had was rippled with tension from the last week of holiday hell.  She had gone to bed, only to wake up at six to get the turkey in the oven.  The effort alone was futile, since Louise was sure to gripe that it was dry from being over cooked, or underbasted, or simply touched by Catherine.
   
    "Sara, why don't you open that jewelry kit Grandpa and I got for you.  There's hundreds of pretty beads."
   
      Catherine decided now was a good time to get the pies from the freezer, which thankfully was out in the storage space.  She slipped on her tacky new light-up-and-sing reindeer slippers, one of many thoughtful gifts from her in-laws. Tying her robe closed, she slipped out the back door. 
   
    The brisk morning bit at her cheeks and sucked the fatigue out of her body.  She quickly crossed the patio, into the storage room and closed the door behind her. She never thought she would be grateful for the depressing, tiny space, but it was a welcoming haven for the moment.  After carefully conquering the jigsaw of boxes stacked on the freezer, she rescued the pies from their cold prison.  She stared at them regretably, knowing the clever belittling that she had coming to her for not making her own pies from scratch.
   
      "To hell with it," Catherine rubbed at her face.  Suddenly, a small spark of excitement ignited in her stomach.  Mark's golf bag was shoved between the freezer and the wall.  She unzipped a front pocket, rummaged through gloves and tees and came out with a pack of cigarrettes and a book of matches.
   
      "Thank-you, God for a small Christmas miracle."  She had quit years before, but always maintained an emergency pack for moments exactly like this one.  She hopped onto the freezer and popped a stale cigarrette between her lips.  A crack of a match and a deep breath, then she was in heaven.
   
    "Come on, Cate.  You've got to get it together. It's Christmas." It was not a good sign that she had resorted to talking to herself.  "Something pleasant must have happened this week."
   
    Her mind trudged back to the airport, which had gone without incident. Louise had even pretended to have missed her.
     
    "You changed your hair. How different." Different being code for, 'I hate it, what were you thinking.'  It had come up other times, like when she had chosen her bridesmaids dresses, and Bryson's name and anything else significant that Louise felt the need to crush her spirit like a monster truck running over a grape.
   
      They had also gone shopping together. Her gut twisted with the memory of an overcrowded mall and Louise's incessant nagging. Catherine had parked too far, she was spending too much, that color shirt wasn't right for Mark. "Well, maybe it's just me, but I look like a corpse in gray."
   
    "I could only be so lucky," Catherine had thought.
   
      At least her father-in-law, Don, was more pleasant.  Well, when he wasn't escaping the wrath of Louise by pretending to be asleep.  He smiled kindly at Catherine whenever Louise poked at her, and would quietly sneak her small gifts like a pen with his company's name.  They were always silly, and typically useless, but he was just doing his best to counteract the evil of his wife.
   
    She ground out the remainder of her cigarrette, and less than willingly resolved to go back in.  If she was gone too long Louise might come looking for her.  Being alone with her in a small space full of power tools was just far too tempting.
   
      Catherine returned to the house and rested the pies on the counter.  She picked her special coffee back up and prepared to enter the war zone. She skirted past Louise stringing beads with Sara, ignoring the spray of small glass charms surrounding them.  Louise narrowed her eyes with suspicion as she passed, undoubtedly smelling the smoke she hadn't bothered to cover up.  She stepped over Don's feet as he snored softly in the lounge chair.
   
    "Lucky bastard," she whispered.  He mustered a snort and wheeze for effect.
   
    She settled on the couch next to her husband and decided to just enjoy her kids for a moment.  A moment was all she got.
   
    "Catherine, dear.  Don't you think it's a bit chilly in here?" Louise snidely asked. "Maybe you could turn the heat up just for a bit. I know the price of gas has gone up, but nobody wants frostbite for Christmas." She laughed at her own joke as Catherine heaved herself up and headed for the thermostat.
   
      As she walked down the hall she muttered "I just thought you might want a  break from all that heat, being from hell and all."
   
    "What, dear?"
   
    "Nothing!" She began to fidget with the thermostat, something she had never mastered since they installed a digital.
   
      "Kids, Grandpa and I have one more present for you."
     
      "Oh, great," Catherine had expected her to try and show up the bike and new game system at the last minute.  She returned to the couch, moving her blatently regifted crystal vase she had given Louise last year. She hadn't even bothered to remove all of the wrapping paper before stuffing it into a gift bag.
   
    "Grandpa and I decided that since we only get to see you a couple times a year, we should make the most of our visit."
   
    "Where is she going with this?" she whispered to Mark who shrugged.
   
    "So this year we're going to stay until after New Year's!"
   
      Catherine's jaw fell for a moment before remembering to put on her, 'I'm so happy' smile.  Mark reached for her coffee.
   
    "I'll get you another."
   
    "Sure, just leave out the coffee this time."  She thought about the bottle of scotch they had given Don, which would go nicely with dinner.