Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“There you are,” my mother said, exasperated, when I stumbled through the front door, dumping my luggage on the floor.

I didn’t have the budget for an Uber, but I hadn’t wanted Hudson to feel like he had to babysit me. The five hours I’d been trapped next to him in the bus had been intense. All I wanted were some Christmas cookies, a glass of wine, and a hot bath.

Instead I got the holiday chaos of my family.

Two younger cousins raced by, high on sugar cookies and holiday excitement. I let Pugnog out of his carrier to join the fray.

“Did you buy the ingredients for lobster dip?” my mother asked. “Sandy, I don’t want to use those plates tonight. We’ll use the other ones.”

“Why couldn’t you convince Dakota to come?” my aunt Babs asked, coming over to me and giving me a huge hug.

“Someone has to manage the office.”

Aunt Giana sniffed. “You smell.” She sprayed me with Febreze, making me cough. “Why do you insist on taking the bus?”

“I don’t know.” My mother threw up her hands. “James offered to drive her, but she refused. I don’t know why you can’t forgive him, Gracie.”

“No, he—”

“It’s been a whole year, and he and Kelly are so in love,” my mother lectured. “James is trying, Gracie. You’re going to have to get over it at some point. Kelly’s going to have children, and you want to have a relationship with your nieces and nephews, don’t you? She wants a big family, you know.”

No, I wanted a big family. Kelly wanted to party.

“The fish needs to go in the fridge, and can you make the custard for the Boston cream pie?” my mother continued as she shook out table runners. “Your uncle Bic asked me at the last minute if we could serve it, and I need to set up for the buffet. Oh, Gracie come here and help me figure out where to arrange the tables.”

“I told you the buffet needs to go on the back wall, and we can seat people in the dining room and living room,” I told her, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice so my mom didn’t scold me for having a tone.

A mopey-looking young woman in a crop top, Ugg boots, and leggings, slouched into the room, followed by my brother.

“I just wanted to make sure that there are going to be some vegan options for Piper,” Logan said over my mother shouting at my aunt to not drop a goblet.

Bethany threw up her hands. “Vegan options?”

“She ate steak the last time she was over here,” my uncle Eddie remarked as he and another married-in uncle moved the tables to where I directed.

“No, that wasn’t Piper. That was Pippa,” my brother corrected.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” I said before I could stop myself from volunteering. “I’ll make sure Piper has something to eat.”

It was a compulsion to help make my mother’s life as easy as possible—the curse of being the firstborn daughter.

In an ill-fated attempt to lose the pounds accumulated in the post-being-cheated-on fog of sadness and self-loathing, I had tried to be vegan. It had lasted all of two weeks and had ended when my sister had posted photos of herself in a thong bikini on the beach with James, her engagement ring front and center.

A woman needed a cheeseburger and a bourbon milkshake after a social media post like that.

On the bright side, I had assembled a repertoire of plant-based dishes.

“I’ll make you a very tasty zucchini ‘spaghetti’ dish with fresh spinach, pine nuts, and other winter veggies,” I promised.

“Um, I don’t actually like vegetables all that much?” Piper said, twirling her hair.

“She doesn’t like the texture,” my brother explained. “When we go out, she always orders an Impossible burger.”

“French fries, Oreos, and imitation sausage links it is then.”

Piper brightened. “Sounds great!”

“Thanks, sis!” Logan hugged me. “We’re heading to the park to shoot some hoops.”

“Great. I’ll just be here throwing a dinner for forty together,” I said under my breath.

It’s Christmas, I told myself firmly. You’re with family. That’s what’s important.

It was Hudson, with his lack of respect for my personal space and his military metaphors and his sexually charged comments, that had put me in a bad mood.

I pulled out my great-grandmother’s cookbook. It was one I had designed from a collection of her recipes that I had carefully typed up, tested, and photographed then given to the family one year as Christmas presents. It had the best custard recipe.

I opened the fridge.

“Where are all the eggs?”

“Your aunt Janet used the last of them,” my mother said as she swept through the kitchen.

“You could have told me. I was just at the store.”

“Gracie, don’t use that tone,” my mom chided. “I have a full house here. I’m trying my best.”

“Don’t scowl like that. You’ll get wrinkles, Gracie,” Aunt Sandy told me. “A single woman can’t afford to get wrinkles.”

“You’ll have to go to the store and buy some eggs,” my mom told me.

“She needs to go to the store and get a man,” Granny Murray said from the doorway.

I rushed to hug her.

Granny Murray admired me. “Your tits look great.”

“Really?” My mother frowned and pulled at my top. “I think your bra is too small.”

“I’m too busy to date,” I said to Granny Murray as I pulled self-consciously at my clothes.

Nothing seemed to fit right. No wonder Hudson wanted cash instead of a hookup. He had been positively repulsed by the idea of sleeping with me.

I felt nauseous thinking about my big plan.

He’s going to balk, I assured myself. No man in his right mind was going to pretend to be the fake boyfriend of a girl he met on a bus. That was absurd. Hudson was probably just pulling my leg, passing the time. A slow bus ride makes people do crazy things. He gave me a fake number, which was no problem because I was not going to call him. Ever. Instead, I was going to pretend this whole thing never happened.

Granny Murray lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I heard the lesser grandma”—meaning my father’s mother—“talking smack about you, saying that she would be surprised if you were even going to show your face this Christmas. You need to get a real home run of a man, shut them all up.”

“It doesn’t hurt my feelings,” I promised Granny Murray. “I’m an adult. I can take it. And I don’t need a man to be happy. That’s what you said when you threw that divorce party last year, remember?”

“I’m not telling you to get married. I’m telling you to find a hot piece of tail, fuck him in the back seat of a Camaro, parade him around, and shut up that gossipy old woman.”

“It will have to wait until I’ve gone to the store.”

“I added onions and flour to your list,” my mother called as she sailed through the kitchen, carrying a soup tureen into the dining room.

I picked up my coat from where I had draped it over my bags.

“Also, can you do something with that dog?” my mother added as she floated back, carrying a tablecloth to the laundry room.

One of my younger cousins, who was probably trying to be helpful, had put down a dish of water for Pugnog. The chunky pug had inadvertently tipped over and was drowning in his water bowl.

I righted him, picked up the water dish, dumped it out, and gave the dog a few whacks on the back.

“You’re going to the store, Gracie?” my dad asked hopefully as I walked through the den. He was watching the football game with several of my cousins and uncles. “Could you pick up some ice cream? Pistachio if they have it, though it’s not as good as yours.”

Hint. Hint.

“I can make you some,” I offered weakly.

It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, I chanted.

“Can you pick up some chips and salsa?” another cousin asked.

“And some of those jalapeño poppers?” another added. “We need snacks for the game.”

“Of course,” I said, jotting it down on my quickly ballooning grocery list.

I stepped out onto the back porch and trudged through the snow to the detached garage with the mother-in-law suite above, where Granny Murray lived.

Both of my parents’ cars were gone, and Granny Murray didn’t have a car because she had lost her license after getting in a police chase.

“Guess we’re walking,” I forced out between my teeth as I grabbed the wheeled cloth grocery cart hanging on the wall of the garage.

“You need the exercise. It’s a beautiful winter day. We’ll walk to the store, taking in all the Christmas lights. It will be grounding, centering, meditative.”

But it was no use. I felt no Christmas joy, no holiday cheer.

Twenty more days ’til Christmas.

For once in my life, I wished the Christmas season could just be over and done with already.