Short Story: Mae’s Christmas Story

Anyone else think @zia_love_garcia is annoying?

Sparkling lights shine behind the poll on my screen. My heart stops. A temptation to click on the “Yasss” or “Maybe a little” options wiggles in my fingertips so I can see the poll results. Over fifty people saw the story already. The worse part of it all is that I considered Mae a best friend.

Tia Rita storms in the front door with a woven basket in her hands. “Zia, come help me carry the tamales.”

I trudge over, greet my aunt with a kiss and take the load from her. Every year Tia Rita makes the best food for the family Christmas party. My cousin Miriam and I designate ourselves the official food tasters; just to make sure the food is safe to eat. But after seeing Mae’s story, I want to go upstairs and crawl in bed.

“Zia! Can you pull out the cloves from the ham?” Mom doesn’t even bother waiting for my response. She already has the ham on the counter and rushes to help Tia Rita get the rest of her gifts from the car.

A swarm of tiny cousins race in front of me. I nearly trip over the smallest one. My phone vibrates in my sweatshirt pocket and I turn it off. I just want to be alone. The conversation around the dining room table booms with people arguing over who makes the best hot sauce in the family. I normally would tease my aunts asking for a sample of each of their hot sauces, but not today.

Instead I pick cloves from the ham, memories of times I spent with Mae pop in my mind.

“Is something wrong?” Miriam leans next to me dipping a chip in Tia Rita’s salsa.

“No.”

“Liar.” Miriam chomps on her chip giving me a pointed look.

I blink back tears trying to stretch a believable smile onmy face. “Why do people have to be such two-faces?” The moment I start telling her about the Instagram story and about my argument with Mae, I can’t shut mymouth. Tears pour down my cheeks. I need to stop crying before someone else notices. This Christmas party is not about me.

But, Tia Rita comes into the kitchen before I swipe the tears from my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” When I don’t answer, Tia Rita asks Miriam and Miriam spills the beans.

My life is over. Heat burns on my cheeks. I throw a clove at Miriam, but her mouth keeps moving. Tia Rita sighs in indignation so loud, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole family rushes into the kitchen.

Miriam leans over the counter. “I know! I think Zia should post a nasty picture of Mae.”

“No. Vengeance is the Lord’s. Give me your phone.” Tia Rita extends her hand waiting. “You could listen to Miriam or you could choose to have a great Christmas party with your familia. Now you know that girl isn’t your friend. No reason to let a girl ruin your day.”

I hesitate, but hand her my cell because you don’t say “no” to Tia Rita.

By the end of the night, I’m laughing and ate enough to satisfy two grown men. Tia Rita hands me my cell and indicators fill the top of my screen. I scroll through the messages and tags and DMs. My other friends posted shout-outs and sent their love. My heart bursts with joy.

What would you have done?