...It's the most wonderful time...

Christmas, Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for tears. We’ve been good, but we can’t last. Hurry, Christmas, hurry fast….

No intro today. With the holidays coming up quickly and whatnot, life has gotten more dreadful. Like I'm gonna have to dip into my savings to buy people gifts that they are only going to use once and don't get me started on the secret Santa nonsense at work.

Now, do you remember my brother? Of course not, no one does. (Ahem, read chapter 5…Ahem)

So Jake suddenly showed up during Thanksgiving with no explanation whatsoever after being missing for a better chunk of time, but I knew he’d come back when he was hungry enough. The guy treats vanishing like a seasonal hobby—right around the time bills start piling up, poof, he’s gone. But as soon as the scent of Christmas ham drifts through the air, he magically reappears like a stray cat with suspiciously good timing.

Naturally, Mom had to call me about it.

Mom: "Jake is back."

Me: "Okay, hello to you too, Mom. I’ve been good, thanks for asking."

Mom: "Don’t get smart with me, Maxwell. Your brother has been through a lot."

Me: "Oh really? What, did his PlayStation break? The horror."

Mom: "You should be more supportive of your sibling! He’s your blood!"

Me: "Yeah? Well, so are mosquitoes, and I don’t see anyone making me babysit them."

Mom: "Enough with your nonsense. I called to tell you we are having a Christmas celebration on Wednesday! And YOU and Daphne had better find yourself home by then.”

Me: "Moooom, I promised Lily that…."

Mom: "Bring her over then. I love you. Goodbye!"

Click.

You know this always happens to me. Jake screws up and I am always blamed for something I didn’t do. Like how is that fair, the older brother should be blamed for the younger brother’s mistakes, not the other way around. It’s a universal rule!

Now, Lily had asked me to spend Christmas with her since she couldn’t get back home due to her work but Mom didn’t really give me a choice. And she did say I could bring her, so…two birds…. WIKCHA! That was the sound of the stone hitting the two invisible birds.

No birds were harmed by the way.

Anyway, Daphne insisted that this year, she would be in charge of Christmas dinner. Because apparently, watching two seasons of MasterChef qualifies you to handle a full-course holiday meal.

I walked into the kitchen to find Daphne surrounded by raw ingredients, a YouTube tutorial playing at double speed, and the distinct smell of something burning.

“What’s that smell?” I asked, cautiously sniffing the air.

She turned around with the frantic look of a woman who had lost control of her own ambitions.

“It’s fine, Max,” she said, waving a spatula like a weapon.

At that exact moment, the oven beeped, and a dense, blackened lump emerged.

“Daph… was that supposed to be the turkey?”

She nodded pouting her mouth.

I stared at it. The turkey stared back.

I wasn’t sure if it had been overcooked or if we had just accidentally summoned a new form of life.

“Okay,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Maybe we can salvage this.”

We could not salvage this.

The only thing that saved dinner was Mom, who had wisely pre-prepared an emergency backup meal because, in her words, she knew Daphne was “going to try something ridiculous again.”

Daphne was deeply offended. But not as offended as the garbage can that had to receive whatever that thing was.

It was time for the family dinner, yay

Mom was sitting at the head of the table, with a huge genuine smile on her face, one we only saw when guests were around. Alex, Daphne’s kid sat next to me with Daphne and Lily on the opposite side.

Daphne was still sulking and Jake was glued to his phone. Alex was eating, enjoying his dinner, lucky bastard. Lily, who had never experienced my family in full chaos mode before, had the look of a woman who had made a terrible life choice.

And me? I was just there, existing.

Mom: "So, Jake, tell us—where have you been?"

Oh, boy.

Jake, ever the professional bullshit artist, leaned back and gave a casual shrug.

Jake: "Oh, you know, just… out there. Soul searching."

Me: "More like wallet searching."

Mom: (ignoring me) "And did you find what you were looking for?"

Jake: (taking a dramatic pause) "Not yet."

Me: "Translation: he's broke again."

Jake shot me a glare, but Mom turned on me instead.

Mom: "Maxwell, stop being so negative. Your brother has his own flaws like the rest of us. Maybe if you weren’t criticizing him, he wouldn’t feel the need to wander off all the time.”

I nearly choked on my mashed potatoes.

Me: "Oh yeah, because I’m the reason he turned into a discount Houdini?"

Daphne: "Well, you do complain a lot."

Me: "Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was on trial for existing."

Lily, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up.

Lily: "So, uh… how about those Christmas presents?"

Nice try, Lily. But there was no escaping this dinner table drama.

Mom folded her arms, still unimpressed with me.

Mom: "Lily, dear, how do you put up with this one?"

Lily glanced at me, then at my family, then at her untouched plate of food as if calculating exactly how bad she wanted to be here.

Lily: (dryly) "Oh, you know. I drink a lot."

Maybe it was the way she said it, or maybe it was just the brutal honesty, but we all erupted into laughter.

Alex finished his dinner and claimed he was tired before heading to bed. Yeah, right. I knew he was gonna to be playing video games all night, that cheeky little bastard. I taught him well.

Jake took the opportunity to reach for another roll—his fifth, I might add—before casually dropping a bombshell.

Jake: "Oh, by the way mommy, I might need to crash here for a while."

Mom: (smiling, as if this was fantastic news) "Of course, sweetheart!"

I, on the other hand, nearly died.

Me: "Oh, come on! Why do I get blamed for everything but he gets free room and board?!"

Mom: "Because he’s my baby."

Jake smirked. Daphne laughed.

And me? I just sighed and reached for the wine.

Because if I was going to survive this, I was going to need it.

So that was Christmas.

A magical time of year, full of love, togetherness… and me realizing, yet again, that my life is just one long practical joke.

New Year’s can’t be worse, right?

…Right?

Pray for me.

Look, in my defense, it wasn’t my fault.

Stephen invited me to a fancy rooftop New Year’s party. Now, I should have known this was a terrible idea the moment I agreed. Because every time Stephen invites me somewhere, disaster follows.

But it was new years eve and after the Christmas I had, I thought it couldn’t hurt.

Things were fine at first. I stood in the corner, sipping my overpriced drink, wondering why everyone around me looked like they had been Photoshopped to perfection. Meanwhile, Stephen was thriving, schmoozing with some random like he was born for this life. I should have known he had a scheme brewing.

Then came the fireworks incident.

Someone—I won’t name names (Stephen)—thought it would be funny to light an extra batch of fireworks from the rooftop. Except, instead of going up, they went sideways.

Straight into a neighbor’s balcony.

There was screaming. Someone yelled, “Run!” A guy in a tuxedo dove behind a potted plant.

Next thing I knew, security was escorting Stephen and me out of the party.

The good news? We didn’t actually get arrested.

The bad news? Stephen is now banned from that building.

Forever.

And so am I. But it was mutual with me. I wasn’t planning on going there again.

So, now it’s January.

A fresh start. A clean slate. A chance to be a better, more organized person.

…Yeah, I don’t see that happening.

I’m still exhausted, the cat and the kittens I took in out of the goodness of my heart have officially declared war on my furniture, scratching it to shreds. I’ve started calling her Lucifer, obvious reasons but for short its Lucy.

see you Next year