If a slow, agonizing death was fun, then yes, Keera was having a blast. Who wouldn’t, being surrounded by loved one, people nearest and dearest to them?
For Keera, sitting at that long, beautifully set table, embracing the yearly event, was the equivalent of getting her eyeball torn out with a fork, a dull, rusty fork glazed in salt. The only thing missing…
“Family Album Time!”
Yup. It was official. Family holidays sucked ass!
“Mom, really, let’s just skip Family Album Time—”
Perfectly put together like any fun-loving mother should be in her reindeer printed sweater, lacy smock and sixties hairstyle, Anna-Beth Joule gasped, clutching the bursting album to her chest as though attempting to protect its delicate sense of hearing.
“We don’t skip Family Album Time, Keekee!”
Ugh. Keekee? Really? Maybe her mother thought she was the same chubby, naked baby sprawled across the dining room table getting her diaper changed as that in the album she cherished so deeply. The same table they were now having their holiday supper on. How… disturbing.
Well, at least this year was going to be different. Keera had made certain of it. Although, she had hoped her mother would see reason and just forget this one single family tradition. It didn’t look likely.
Keera sighed resignedly, taking a last gulp of her cold tea. She set the delicate teacup down on its saucer, used her clothe napkin to dab politely at her mouth and rose to her feet.
“Keera, are you leaving?” Cousin Beth looked pleading; her blue eyes stared at Keera, round and filled with desperation.
“Just to the bathroom,” Keera replied, pushing back her chair and slipping free.
She left her chair out, knowing she would return. Her sock-clad feet rustled against the strip of carpet leading the way from the dining room, down the hall to the bathroom. She stepped inside and closed the door, counting quietly to herself. She was at ten when the scream erupted, crashing and rolling through the halls like a raging storm.
The reflection in the round mirror above the sink smirked. She moved away from the counter to stand over the toilet. From the back pocket of her jeans, she removed a stack of photos, all wrinkled and faded with time. Her own face peered back at her from each one; changing as she grew from a round-faced baby to the fully grown woman she was today.
“Good-bye, you evil holiday nightmare,” she muttered, flicking open her Zippo and setting the lot a blaze.
Christmas was great. Families were great. Childhood photos used as source of amusement… not so great. Mother would need to find a new tradition. Hell, they still had Cousin Beth’s pictures. Nothing said holiday fun like watching someone else get tormented for once.