A Great Visitor

Dear diary,

What is the worst thing that can happen to you?

Now, depending on who you ask, you’ll get different answers.

Some will say losing a loved one.

Some will say heartbreak.

Some will say when your favorite manga completely fumbles the ending—JJK, cough, cough. And don’t even get me started on MHA, trolling us with that "How I became the best superhero, only for—" NO. NO SPOILERS. But you get my point.

Some will even say blue balls. Like, when the girl you really like sends you strong signals, like really strong signals, making you think, oh yeah, it’s happening, only for her to suddenly hit you with the, “I just don’t feel like it today.”

WHAT THE HYUK.

The point is, we all have our own version of hell.

For me? Sure, all the above apply. But none of them—none of them—compare to getting a visit from one of my great aunts.

Particularly, Aunt Jasmine.

Now, before you start bitching about respect and all that sentimental crap, hear me out. I love my aunts, okay, all five of them.

So, last week my Mom called me out of nowhere.

Mom: Hallo!
Me: Yeah Mom, I'm here.
Mom: How are you, my sweet boy?

Okay, immediate red flag.

If you’ve been following along, you know that my mom’s actual favorite is my older brother, Jake. To her credit, she never treated us differently, but Daphne and I knew it —it was always Jake. So, when she suddenly starts showering me with unnecessary sweetness, I know she’s about to ask me for something.

Mom: I need to ask you for a favor, my sweet boy.

Told you!

Mom: Your aunt Jasmine is coming to visit tomorrow, and she wants to stay with you and your sister.
Me: She wants to? Or you want her to?

Mom: She said how much she misses you both and—
Me: But why would—Mom! This makes no sense, she hates Daphne. Why can’t she stay with you? She’s YOUR sister.

Mom: And YOUR great aunt.
Me: I don’t even know what that means, Mom. “Great aunt”? Is she great or something?

Mom: I don’t really know; she just insists on being called that. It doesn’t matter, Max. Your aunt is coming, and she is staying with you.

Me: But Mom, why can’t she stay at YOUR house? I mean, you’re there and Alex is there. Plus your house is bigger than mine! Where is she even going to stay?

Mom: Just figure it out! Love you, bye!

CLICK!

The Next Day…

I got a call from her at 9:25 A.M. It was her, my great aunt Jasmine.

She was outside the clinic for some reason even though I texted her before she got on the plane, to call so Daphne could pick her up and take her to the house.

When I stepped out, I saw her standing there, an entire fleet of bags with her. I was concerned.

Not because they were heavy, not that. I have been known to lift 5 times my weight. What was concerning me was that she looked like she was planning to move in permanently.

“Oh, there you are, Maximillian!” she beamed.

Okay, my name is Max. Just Max. No one calls me Maximillian. Not even my mother.

And another thing: My full name is not even Maximillian.

“Hi, Aunt Jasmine,” I said, already mentally bracing myself.

“Oh, don’t just stand there, come help your great aunt with her bags!”

There were like seven of them. SEVEN. I don’t know what she packed, but I was convinced one of them had a body in it.

Once inside, she looked around like a queen inspecting her kingdom.

“Well, well, well. So this is where you work, huh?”

I sighed. “Yeah. This is the clinic. Give me a minute to get the car.”

I went to my office to call Daphne to come get Aunt Jasmine outta here.

Stephen, ever the opportunist, popped his head out of his office. 

“Ohhh, is this the famous Aunt Jasmine?”

“Great aunt,” she corrected. “And who might you be?”

“Of course, one as lovely as you can only be great,” he said winking at me.

I will actually kill him!

“I’m Stephen. Your personal guide for today!” He gestured dramatically.

“Oh! A tour? That sounds wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“I’m Stephen. Your personal guide for today!” He gestured dramatically.

“Oh! A tour? That sounds wonderful!” she exclaimed.

Stephen. Why.

I lost a friend today; tragic.

I could only watch in horror as Stephen—who I now considered my mortal enemy—led my aunt through the clinic, narrating every detail like we were in a historical museum.

“This here is the waiting area, where patients wait very impatiently for Max to fix their problems.”

“Oh my! Maximillian must be a busy man!”

“That’s right, MAXIMILLIAN is very busy. And this is the break room! The place where we pretend we don’t have jobs for ten minutes before being dragged back into the trenches.”

Aunt Jasmine laughed.

But it got so much worse.

At some point, Aunt Jasmine started telling stories.

About me!

To my coworkers, who for some reason ARE NOT WORKING!??

Everyone was fucking gathered around her like she was sharing wisdom of the ice age or something.

“In fact,” she continued, with a huge smile, “when Max was a little boy, he used to run around the house wearing nothing but his Spider-Man underwear, yelling, ‘I AM THE NIGHT! I AM VENGEANCE.”

Oh my God.

It was Batman. At least get your stories right, Gahhd!

Stephen was dramatically laughing, sprawling on the floor like a maniac.

“Oh, that explains so much!” he gasped between laughs. “You still act like that, honestly.”

“I do not,” I snapped.

“Ohhh, but he does, doesn’t he?” Aunt Jasmine nudged Susan, who for some reason, was also laughing.

I grabbed my phone. Daphne. Where the hell was Daphne?!

I called her. No answer.

I called again. Still no answer.

I texted her. The little three dots showed up and then disappeared.

I looked at Aunt Jasmine, who was now in the middle of explaining how I once tried to marry my mom at age four.

NEVER HAPPENED. The lies with this woman.

I looked at Stephen, who was laughing so hard he was actually in physical pain.

I looked at my phone again.

Still nothing from Daphne.

I was trapped.

And at that moment, I realized…

This was hell.