'Christmas Day' by Elisa Hill

I was woken by someone opening and shutting doors and blundering about. It was 6am on Christmas Day and I thought my 12 year old sister and I were alone in the house. Although, it was difficult to imagine what sort of a Christmas Day this would be for her, when both of my newly separated parents were at the hospital most of the time with my brother Mike, who had been sick for months.
I hadn’t been asleep for long, as a few hours earlier I had felt an urgent need to go to see Mike, and had almost gone, a few times,!! But as I had been left in charge of my sleeping sister, I felt I couldn’t drag her out a mile or so to the hospital in the middle of the night and I knew my father would be furious with me if I did!
We had been to see Mike that afternoon. We stood, one on each side of his bed, alone with him while my parents talked to the doctor. We chatted about ordinary things and the excitement of Christmas, which was my brother’s favourite time of year. I felt sad that he would still be in hospital.
"We will come and see you first thing tomorrow, and stay with you as long as they will let us," I said.
“That would be great," he said, trying not to cough, and when his attention went to something else I noticed tears were welling up in my sisters eyes.
"Go out," I mouthed at her, not wanting Mike to see.
Earlier my father had been brought back from his weekend away with his new girlfriend, very annoyed with my mum, and blaming her for exaggerating the seriousness of my brother’s illness. He had left no address, so the police had to find him, and tell him he needed to be at the hospital; a fact which would have been obvious to every one else!
The noise continued and as I tried to rouse myself enough to get up and see if she was OK, my door opened and my father was standing there. I was stunned, as he refused to come into the house since they had split up.
"What .... why are you here?" I started to say.
He interrupted, "Why are you in Nicky’s room? I was trying to find you,"
I mumbled something about her wanting comfort, but I knew as it came out it was not making sense and he ignored me.
"Get up, I'm going home, Michael’s gone, you need to look after your mother, I'm going home." The phrases were spat out like bullets from a gun.
"Gone?" my muddled head couldn’t take it in. “Gone?”
"Yes, he's gone."
I didn’t understand. "Gone?.... where has he gone?" I asked as I started to dread the answer and as it started to dawn on me I rejected the thought, as my mind couldn’t make the connection without it being spelt out clearly.
"He's dead," he shouted as he spat out the words, really viciously this time, blaming me for having to say that word to him. I was just an annoyance, keeping him somewhere he didn’t want to be. He had no regard for my feelings or the shock I was experiencing.
"But... but.... how can he be dead, we just saw him….?" My disbelief caused me to question my father. Something none of us ever did as he saw it as defiance.
"Get up, you have to look after your mother, she’s downstairs, " he shouted. I almost fell out of bed as he stood there impatient to be off. He considered he was doing his duty to his family by getting me up, a young girl to be with his wife of twenty five years!
I could not process this information, my mind seemed to shut down, become completely blank; but the long habit of obeying my father propelled me down stairs. Halfway down I heard the front door slam and as it resonated through the house, it dawned on me, that I was alone, with no one to lean on. I had no idea how to comfort my mum in her grief - something no child should ever have to do.
Later she asked me to wake my sister, and bring her downstairs so she could tell her the sad news.
As it was Christmas Day, Nicky woke up almost instantly. The moment she woke up she became excited, "Is Mike home?"
"No, just come downstairs, Mum needs to talk to you"
"Have you opened the presents yet? I have Mike’s ready! He’s going to love it; its one of those snoopy books!"
"Please come downstairs, Nicky, Mum really needs to talk to you,." I repeated like a robot. I was getting desperate. I was trying to hold in the tears and my sister who is a very intuitive person just did not pick up on the signals. She was so excited about the presents and the fact it was Christmas Day.
We walked down stairs, my sister chattering happily, just a kid looking forward to an exciting day. I wanted that short journey to last forever. I wanted for her never to know. I wanted to keep her happy for as long as I could. But of course it couldn’t last; she was a child eager to see her mum, who had been absent at the hospital for most of the past few days.
I ushered her into the living room, where Mum was wanting, like me, to keep her unaware as long as we could. I shut the door and went back into the hall to give them some privacy and not wanting to see my sister’s grief. Her piercing screams seemed to rip me in two and I fainted.