24/12- Love- The Unexpected Guest

Contemporary

Christmas Eve? Christmas Eve! Christmas Eve meant last-minute preparations. Christmas Eve meant last-minute shopping. Christmas Eve meant last-minute invites. Christmas Eve meant last-minute cooking.

Christmas Eve meant last-minute hopes for what you'll get under the tree.

And that's the short version. I could go on for hours! And so could Leon. But I won't bore you with my list, and I won't go through the one he prepared, because it'd take up all of our short time together.

Anyway, we were talking about Christmas Eve. Leon was just finishing his list as his cousin Zuzanna called on him. "Oh, come help set the table!" The reason she was yelling? Great-aunt Maria had turned up the Christmas music to full volume, and in her fright, thrown the remote halfway across the room, and by some incredible aim, out of the window! Now, Leon's dad was outside with the flashlight, searching in the (unfortunately) wet bush, sticking his arm in blindly.

Sorry! I got off-topic again, and Leon is begging to meet you. He says hi. He's also saying he wants me to get on with the story, so I'll stop nagging about the technicalities and get on with it.

Leon got up from the kitchen counter, looking around for Zuzanna. But because all the extended family had flown over this year, the house was packed with people. He was pretty sure some people had just snuck in from the street, because they didn't seem to have any relation to anyone who belonged here.

When he finally found his cousin, she turned him round and sent him to the living room with plates to wipe down.

Where Leon's family is from, Christmas is celebrated on the 24th, and they have Christmas dinner then, too. So for them, Christmas Eve was not just last-minute preparations, but last-moment. Managing to finish a second before dinner starts.

So everyone (but Leon's dad and Great-aunt Maria) were giving a helping hand. Leon, along with the other kids, had to wipe down plates, bowls, and cutlery with paper towels (except for the niece, who had just turned two).

It was, to be honest, a pointless job. The plates and bowls and cutlery were straight out of the dishwasher, and everyone was about to eat anyway.

After a short prayer, the whole group sat down at once, the chairs and benches scraping as the first forks clattered to the plates in the clumsy chaos. Leon was sure there had to have been some sort of Christmas miracle, because there were 27 people at the table. He had counted, though it was difficult with all the bustling around. That was excluding Leon's mum, who was still bringing out the first course: soup.

Her eyes were weary from having to stay up all night to cook a double batch of everything. Honestly, it was a shock that everyone had even fit in the house.

They had to rent two tables (Leon hadn't known that was a thing until five hours ago) and buy benches from eBay, which they hoped would find a second use for in the summer.

"Thank you," he said as his uncle ladled soup into his bowl. He wasn't a fan of the spicy flavours, but maybe this year it was better. But one spoonful in, he knew he was wrong. But he ate it with a smile on his face, determined to show his mum that he loved it.

The night, to Leon's surprise, went according to plan. He had been sure with tens of people crowding a too-small house, something -- anything -- had to go wrong. But it didn't.

Everyone was on their best behaviour for the evening. For God, for the family, and for their own peace.

Leon was enjoying the meal, talking to everyone and doing his best not to spill anything on the gorgeous white tablecloth. At 20:00, just before the younger kids had to go to bed, they pulled out the Christmas Crackers.

Great-aunt Maria was passing them around, and they went round the table like waves of the sea. Leon's was white and gold, and he held it up to his brother, who sat opposite. But only Cracker managed to be cracked before there was a knock at the door.

Leon had thought he had heard wrong, because who knows when there's so much chatter? But the second knock was clear as day. Everyone went silent as there was yet another one. Were they expecting someone? He hadn't thought so.

Dad climbed out of his seat warily, peaking outside through the window, and hurried back to whisper to mum. Her already-faltering smile faded completely, and she whispered to Leon's cousin. His smile not only faltered, but plummeted to the ground. He stared blankly at the wall, and Leon couldn't be sure his cousin was still breathing.

Never mind. Barry took a single, shaking breath before turning to the door.

"We could leave her there." Leon's dad tilted his head towards the door.

"It's cold." Mum added.

Barry finally looked like he was in reality again. "It is. We can't leave her outside." Leon had no clue who she was, so he peeked around his other uncle, trying to see through the door, which had been opened just a sliver. Everyone was looking. Leon spotted her for just a second, dressed in a t-shirt of poor condition and ripped jeans. Not like the fashion style: they were ripped from her knees to her toes. And she didn't even have a coat.

Leon felt sorry for her. Even as she stepped in and Barry's mum glared at her, nose scrunched in disgust. He never even found out who she was.

A tradition of theirs was to always leave space for an unexpected guest. He had never thought that he would see the spot filled, but it was. By the mysterious girl.

He had tried to Google what the empty seat was for, because no one seemed to know. Maybe it was just the kind nature of their culture, or a place for spirits to eat, or a symbol of welcoming Jesus.

But Leon preferred the meaning of letting in a stranger, in case they stumbled upon your door and needed a meal. And he was glad for the tradition. The girl was probably the funnest person there, other than himself, of course. But it had taken her almost all of dinner to loosen up enough to say more than "Thank you."

But once she started talking, she wouldn't stop!

Her name turned out to be Ophelia, and her actual official job was 'game tester'. As you might expect, the kids loved her, as they finally had a valid competitor in all of their favourite games.

All kids ten and under went to bed after presents. And Leon just made the cut to not go to bed.

His gift was perfect: he had gotten a Game Switch.

So everyone played against Ophelia, who beat them with excellent skill as she described her job in detail. What she did every day, and the games she thinks are going to be out soon.

At the end of the evening, when Ophelia attempted to leave, Leon pulled her back, and the whole family joined in a plea for her to stay. The parents loved how she made the kids behave, and the kids loved how they didn't really behave.

According to the tradition, this part wasn't included. Leon helped pump up the spare mattress and jumped up and down, 'not at all like a maniac,' to quote him, and gave her a pillow off his own bed.

Every time Ophelia tried to refuse the family's love, she was bombarded with comments like 'nonsense' and 'here, take this other very kind thing I didn't know you even needed until you dared to attempt to refuse my kindness'.

The whole family slept soundly, but when Leon awoke, he found Ophelia was no longer there. All that was left of her was a letter on his bedside table. Her handwriting was messy, but he smiled while he read it.

"Thank you. I had to go, but I'll be back one day. Hopefully, I'll repay all the kindness I was shown tonight."

No need. He thought.

Thank you for reading. I hope you got a little Christmas joy from this story. Here, for anyone who wants it, is the maintenance.

If you enjoyed this story, please, please, please (I can add a cherry if necessary) like, comment, rate and share. It really helps me out and allows others to see these (hopefully decent) stories. Thank you, and Merry Christmas.