The Christmas holidays were supposed to be a time of joy and togetherness. But for me, it turned into a nightmare. Everything changed when my brother, Ryan, and his wife, Lindsey, showed up at our door just days before Christmas, asking to stay for an indefinite amount of time.
They had an issue with their heating system, and their house had become unbearable in the winter chill. Although Nathan and I weren’t expecting company, we welcomed them into our home, not knowing that our kindness would soon be put to the test.
“Thanks for letting us crash here,” Ryan said, his breath visible in the cold air as he and Lindsey unloaded their bags. “We might be here for a while. We’ve called about ten electricians, but no one’s available right now.”
Nathan smiled, ever the gracious host. “No problem, make yourselves at home,” he replied, trying to make the best of the situation.
At first, everything seemed fine. But soon, Lindsey’s behavior started to grate on my nerves. She took over our master bathroom, leaving towels and toiletries scattered all over the place, even though we had a perfectly good guest bathroom.
To make matters worse, I started noticing that some of my clothes were mysteriously missing. Sweaters, blouses, even a pair of jeans—I’d find them packed in her suitcase without her ever asking to borrow them. But I stayed quiet, not wanting to cause any tension.
Then came Christmas Eve morning, and everything changed. We were all gathered around the breakfast table, chatting and enjoying the holiday spirit, when I glanced toward the mantel where we had lovingly placed the black marble vase with my mother’s ashes.
We had kept her ashes there, just as she had asked, so she could “spend Christmas with us” one last time. But now, the mantel was empty.
“Has anyone seen Mom?” I asked, my heart racing. I was referring to the vase, which held her ashes—our mother’s final wish before she passed away. The silence was suffocating.
Lindsey looked up from her breakfast, a careless shrug on her shoulders. “You mean her ashes? I threw them out in the backyard,” she said nonchalantly. “That vase scared me every time I saw it.”
Time seemed to freeze. My mind was spinning, trying to process what I had just heard.
“You did what?!” I screamed, my voice shaking with anger and disbelief.
“I threw them out,” Lindsey repeated, her tone casual, like she was talking about a broken lamp or an old magazine. “Relax, it’s just ashes. Why are you all so dramatic?”
I could feel my blood boil, my vision narrowing as I stood up, ready to confront her. “You had no right!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Mom’s last wish was for us to keep her ashes here. You can’t just throw her away like that!”
Lindsey rolled her eyes, her face twisting in annoyance. “It’s not like she’s going to know,” she muttered under her breath.
Her indifference was like a slap in the face. Furious, I stormed out of the house, hoping against hope that I could still find something of my mother. I combed through the snow-covered grass and even dug through the trash, but it was no use. My mother’s ashes—her memory—were gone.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I was seething with anger and hurt, wishing I could just kick Lindsey out. But Ryan’s pleading look stopped me.
“Please, just wait until after Christmas,” Ryan had begged at dinner. “We have nowhere else to go on such short notice.”
Reluctantly, I agreed, though the thought of spending one more moment under the same roof as Lindsey made my skin crawl.
Then, around midnight, a scream pierced the stillness of the night. Nathan and I shot out of bed, alarmed. We rushed upstairs to find the source of the commotion. As we neared the room, we were hit with a terrible, gut-wrenching stench that made my stomach churn.
“What is that smell?” Nathan muttered, covering his nose as we entered the room. There was Lindsey, standing on the bed, hair wild, shrieking like a lunatic.
The carpet, her clothes, and even some of mine were soaked with murky water. A foul, disgusting mess was oozing from the bathroom.
“Oh my God!” Lindsey screamed, her voice cracking. “It’s everywhere! Do something!”
Nathan struggled to keep a straight face as he took in the chaos. “Wow,” he said dryly, “Looks like the toilet backed up.”
“Why is it only this room?” I couldn’t help myself. “The guest bathroom’s fine, and ours is working perfectly!”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Must be some kind of Christmas miracle,” he quipped.
Lindsey shot him a glare, but I couldn’t help myself from smirking. “Maybe this is karma,” I said, leaning against the doorframe, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “You know, for what you did to Mom. This could be her revenge—she always had a wicked sense of humor.”
Lindsey’s eyes flared with fury. “This is your house! Your plumbing! Fix it!”
Before I could retort, Nathan stepped in. “We’ll call a plumber first thing in the morning,” he said calmly. “But in the meantime, maybe you two should sleep in the guest room after cleaning up what you can.”
As I stood there, watching the disaster unfold, I whispered to Nathan, “Do you think that incident was a sign from Mom?”
Nathan grinned, his voice low. “If it wasn’t, it sure feels like one.”
The next morning, Ryan explained how Lindsey had caused the mess when she decided to use the toilet in the middle of the night. She had been fast asleep, but when she woke up, she slipped in the mess while running to the bed to escape the foul smell.
It was hard not to laugh at the image of Lindsey, the very person who had thrown away my mother’s ashes, slipping in her own mess.
Christmas Day came, and Lindsey’s bad luck continued. The plumber couldn’t come until the day after Christmas, so the stench lingered through the holiday. But when we gathered for Christmas dinner, Lindsey sat quietly, her face pale, barely eating. Everyone else was laughing and enjoying the meal, but I could see the weight of her guilt on her face.
At one point, Ryan pulled me aside. “Thanks for not kicking us out,” he said, looking sheepish. “I know Lindsey can be… difficult.”
“Difficult?” I scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Ryan, she threw away Mom’s ashes!”
“I know,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Believe me, I didn’t know she was going to do that. I’m so sorry.”
For a moment, I considered telling him to pack up and leave. But then I looked at Lindsey. She was sitting stiffly, avoiding my gaze, like she was bracing herself for the next disaster. “Maybe this is punishment enough,” I said quietly. Ryan nodded, relief washing over him.
The rest of Christmas was peaceful, and when Lindsey tried to complain to the rest of the family, they sided with me without hesitation. “You threw away their mother’s ashes?” my aunt gasped. “What were you thinking?!”
By the end of the night, Lindsey had been thoroughly humiliated. I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of justice.
As Nathan and I cleaned up after everyone had left, he gave me a sly smile. “Do you think Mom was with us today, even though Lindsey spilled her out?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “If she was, it sure felt like it. And I really hope so.”
Nathan wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. “Well, either way, Lindsey got what she deserved.”
I nodded, a sense of peace settling in my chest. My mom may not have been with us in the way we had planned, but in that moment, I felt her presence more strongly than ever.
And with that, I knew—no matter what else happened—our family’s bond had been strengthened. We would keep moving forward, together.
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