Christmas Eve Dinner
by Maggie Haas
The lights flicker as the waiter brings Dad his meal: lamb with mashed potatoes. He is the last out of the four of us to get his entrée. We drool over our food. Mom and I have the “Veggie-Christmas” consisting of oozing mac and cheese and steamed veggies. The perfect Christmas Eve meal. I look into Mom’s sparkling eyes as she sips on her champagne, holding Dad’s hand. I glance over at my sister. Her head rests on her hand, and her eyes are riveted to her phone. This is usually my job, being the younger sibling.
“Claire, what’s up?” I whisper.
She does not look up. “I’m fine.”
“Seriously, you can tell me. Are you just tired?”
She takes her hand from under her head and clenches her fists. “Nothinggg.” She resumes scrolling on her phone. She catches me watching her. “Jane, stop staring like a ten year-old and act your own age”.
I inhale the peppermint-infused air. “Jeez, sorry.”
My parents turn their heads. They exchange a look with me and take deep breaths. I’m hoping this time Claire will snap out of her mood.
“Darling, what’s wrong?” Dad waits for Claire to look up, but she doesn’t. “Are you just tired?”
“Dad. I am fine. Oh. My. God. Just leave me alone.”
“Sweetpea, if you are tired, you are welcome to go back upstairs back to the room and sleep, but no phones at Christmas dinner.” Mom taps Claire’s phone from across the table. Claire rolls her eyes as she sets her phone face down in the middle. The rest of us follow and place our phones face down in the center. Mom glances at all of us, “Ahh..see, much better. Now, all we have is each other, this delicious food, and this beautiful hotel.”
We all smile. Except for Claire. Instead, she pushes her food away from her and rests her head on the table on top of her crossed arms.
I reach for the hotel key in my purse. “Here, Claire. Take the key, go up, and go to sleep. You look exhausted.”
Dad adds on, “We seriously do not mind. Tomorrow is a new day, and it’s Christmas Day, even better.
Finally, Claire lifts her head. She stares into me and moves her gaze across the table to Mom and Dad. “If you want me to leave so badly, I will leave!” She rips the key from my hand and grabs her phone from the center of the table. She storms off and runs up the stairs to get to the lobby.
Claire’s moodiness has never resulted in this kind of outburst. I turn to Mom and Dad. Mom’s grip tightens on her champagne glass, and Dad’s fingers are spread wide across the table.
He bites his top lip with his bottom teeth. “Does she really think she can do that? Does she really fucking think she can sit here on her phone, cold and distant, and when we bring it up, she just runs away? The answer is no way.”
I drop my fork from my hand. “Dad?”
“Ruining my Christmas Eve. Ruining my night. Ruining our trip.” His voice continues to rise as his spit flies across the table. “How dare she?!”
I look at Mom.
“David,” she says, “are you kidding me right now? You are going to do this in this restaurant and make a scene? She is your daughter, do not talk about her like that, especially not in front of Jane.”
“How dare Claire? Does she have no respect?”
A tightness builds in my chest. I wipe my eyes with my napkin, stopping any tears from dropping down. Our family has fought, but not like this. “Dad, please stop. It’s really okay.”
“Me, stop?? How about Claire should have stopped with her stupid shitty phone, or how about you stop protecting her, or how about you guys get angry too for her ruining our night? The disrespect she has to–”
A man sitting behind my father taps him. “Sir. I can hear every word you are saying and–”
“Okay, man. I do apologize for that, but... stay out of my business.” Dad stares down this small man with glasses. Dad intimidates him enough that he returns to his table. He sits across from his wife, who is smiling at us with her big eyes.
“That’s it. I’m done.” Mom stands up, grabs her purse, and leaves without even pushing her chair in. The water continues to build in my eyes, but this time I don’t stop the tears from falling.