The morning of the best Christmas party ever, (not) we packed up the cars to go to my grandparents’ retirement home. Two red and green spotted trays of deviled eggs balanced on a bright blue box covered in paper adorned with bright red-cheeked Santa Claus stickers. Green gift bags adorned with obnoxious yellow ribbons sat next to my mom’s beach-bag sized purse filled with God-knows-what. Mom closed the trunk to our grey Toyota SUV and called to my dad that we were ready to leave. We all piled into the car; Tyler with his dark grey winter jacket and matchbox cars, Laura with her black wool scarf and iPod, and I with my knit black sweater and a book, in hopes that family interaction could be kept to a minimum. My dad came out of the house wearing his Red Sox jacket with the big front pocket and grabbed the keys from my mom’s hand. They climbed into the car and turned the heat on, waiting a few seconds for the car to warm up before we left.

We arrived around noon time at Great Pines Retirement Home and toppled out of the car, carrying the various Christmas gifts and food. I trudged over towards the event hall, dreading the onslaught of fake Christmas joy. I could see through the windows that the hall was decked out in everything green and red. You would think it looked ridiculous, too.

Giant bows made of Christmas ribbon hung to the door as we walked in, as if this dumb party was some sort of gift to us. The ceilings were tall, clean, and painted white. In the middle of the hall, ghastly roman-style columns were covered with tinsel from the ceiling to the floor. I can’t imagine who took the time to do that. Tables were set up around the room, covered in red and green table cloths with smelly wax candles placed in glass bowls in the centers. A grand piano was set up at the end of the hall near the Christmas tree. The tree was twice my height and covered in huge silver and gold ornaments that looked like them came out of a Target catalog. The room smelled like pine and Windex.

My mom and I took the trays of deviled eggs over to a small round table and placed them next to shrimp cocktail, cheese and crackers, and a large bowl of Cape Cod potato chips. The bowl was a striped with pink and yellow stripes. Clearly someone forgot the Christmas theme. We hung up our coats in the closet and dispersed to separate tables, chairs, and couches with our belongings to play, read, or watch the television set.

My mom shot me a look that read “Go say hi to your grandparents or else,” so I went over to say hello. “Thanks for inviting us over, Papa and Grandma,” I said convincingly.

“It’s lovely to see you dear,” Grandma said.

Papa grumbled and said, “Nice to see you,” and proceed into the kitchen, probably to grab a beer from the fridge.

I gave them a quick hug and got some uncomfortable kisses on the cheek then proceeded to sit down at a table. Family members that I usually see once a year started to come in in groups, making the pile of presents around the tree grow slowly.

There was Uncle Bobby and his two brats, covered in red and green from head to toe. Uncle Bobby wore a Santa Claus sweater and desperately needed a haircut. He sauntered in as if he owned the place. His laugh echoed in the near-empty hall as he said hello to my grandparents. His two brats had already thrown their coats on the floor and started to run around the place like it was an amusement park, because there was definitely nothing breakable in here… They wore matching dresses with inverted colors; one was red with green hems and the other green with red hems. They both had giant bows pinned to their heads making them look like Christmas gifts you definitely didn’t want to receive. I waved hello to be polite but I knew that Uncle Bobby didn’t care who I was as long as me or my sister would keep the girls occupied. I never volunteered to babysit and he wasn’t going to change that today.

Next, my second cousins walked in. All four of them always showed up together. One time in the past, we arrived at a family party and one of the cousins was in her car still, waiting. We told her the door was unlocked and we could get inside but she made up some excuse about needing to make a phone call. She didn’t come inside until the other cousins arrived.

Shannon, Margot, Craig, and Billy all took turns hugging my grandparents and grabbing various alcoholic beverages from the kitchen. The girls were dressed in green silk dresses, and each of them wore hideous pointed-toe heels. It reminded me of the pointed shoes that elves wear. The boys looked respectable in shirts and ties. I figured it would stay that way until they both got drunk and spilled food or wine on themselves. Without fail, it happened every year that I can remember. I would tell you more about them, but it really doesn’t matter. They all had jobs and two of them had kids but their significant others never came with them. I guess they understood how much of a disaster these family parties would always be, and wanted to shield their mates from the horror.

Aunts and Uncles with gift boxes and ribbons whose names aren’t important waltzed in to greet the family as I just sat and waited. You have no idea how bored I was.

The adults gathered to catch up, ask about new babies, new relationships, how their jobs were going, and did they hear that so-and-so were getting divorced? A mixture of hideous laughter and booming voices echoed through the hall like half-used fireworks, illuminating how awful and weird my family was.

Finally Aunt Agnes and Joan arrived. They were in their 30’s and this was Joan’s first family party. Usually Aunt Agnes would talk about her but not actually bring her to a family party. Aunt Agnus looked terrible. She was wearing a long black dress with tiny green and red balls dangling from the bottom like ugly tree ornaments you’re obligated to hang up but try to ignore. She had on a knit shawl, with red and green stripes that looked crooked but weren’t supposed to be. Giant green earrings clung to her ears like hitchhikers and her hair was fastened into a bun, encircled with tinsel. I don’t know if she was going for the ugly fairy queen look or not, but it sure did seem like she pulled it off. Joan was almost as eccentric with her bright green pantsuit and furry brown boots. She had a huge bedazzled Christmas pin over her breast in the shape of a reindeer. Her short hair was mercilessly curled and hung immobile next to her round petite face. The pair looked like they came from a Christmas Circus Catalog.

After saying hello to my grandparents, Aunt Agnes and Aunt Joan went over to talk to my mother. My mother’s eyes widened as they approached and she glanced over at me as if to ask for my help. I slowly got up and made my way over to where they were standing.

“Darling,” Aunt Agnes said to my mother in a really gushy-baby voice, “How’s my favorite sister?”

My mother mustered up the kindest response she could find. “I’m well, thanks. You?”

“Just enjoying the holiday,” Aunt Agnes started, “You know, at work they’ve got me learning how to use the computers and…” She stopped suddenly as if she had forgotten something. “Oh! But this isn’t news you need to hear. Joan and I are engaged,” she squealed like a fourteen-year-old at her first school dance, and grabbed Joan’s arm, swiftly.

Aunt Agnes and Joan had been together for almost ten years now, so it wasn’t really news to my mom. I smiled politely and congratulated them, which seemed to warrant a cheek pinch from Aunt Agnes and an “oh dear look how big you’ve gotten.” I was sixteen. I saw her two months ago at another family party. Aunt Agnes kept talking while Joan just stood there, tall and mysterious. Like a model, but one that would be kicked out the first round of America’s Next Top Model. Or maybe the second round.

I turned to Joan. “How do you like the family?”

Joan lit up like a Christmas tree. She looked grateful to be included in conversation. “Oh, your family is wonderful. Today I met Bobby and the kids, and your grandparents. I didn’t realize Agnes’s family was so big. It’s so bright and beautiful in here.” She looked up at the dangling tinsel.

She hadn’t met my grandparents or Bobby because Agnes never let her. I decided not to tell her that. “Yeah, the family is cool I guess. They’re just weird.”

Joan laughed.

We stood in silence for a while and Aunt Agnes went on and on about the new computers at work and how my mother should go tanning with her and how she was so happy that Joan was here and would get to witness Christmas with our family.

I ended up walking over to the corner with the TV. There was a football game on but I didn’t care for whoever was playing at the time. I sat down and sulked. Are these parties supposed to be fun? Do the adults even care that we are all here? Why do we bother? It’s just Christmas. We do a huge gift exchange and sing carols for what? Is it really pleasing for the adults? Because all it results in for me is a headache and usually a pair of wool socks. Not that I’m complaining, I love socks. But oh my god. Someone could shake it up and give me two pairs of socks for once. Whatever.

It was time for dinner. My grandparents brought out the buffet table covered in green and red plastic table cloths and placed huge dishes of casseroles, chicken fingers, lasagna, ham, carrots, green beans, and croissants in a row. They said a quick prayer and chaos ensued. The family lined up at the end of the table with their plates. Children whined about eating their vegetables and my cousins arranged their plates like they were on Hell’s Kitchen. I meandered over to the table and waited my turn. Chicken fingers, two croissants, a handful of carrots so my mother wouldn’t yell at me, and a big scoop of lasagna. I sat down at my mother’s table because I was way too old to sit at the kid’s table, and I let the adults do the talking while I sort of listened but mostly stared at my food.

It was time for Christmas Carols. My Great-Uncle Steve waltzed over to the upright piano and sat down on the bench. He was one of the most normal-looking people in the room with black dress pants, brown dress shoes, a button down shirt, and a Christmas tie with blinking colored lights that formed a manger scene. Baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph sat in a manger surrounded by white lights and baby sheep. He rolled up his sleeves and started to play the piano.

Deck the halls. Jingle Bells. Here Comes Santa Claus. Jolly Old Saint Nicholas. Jingle Bell Rock. Frosty the Snowman. Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Go Tell it On the Mountain. Angels we have Heard on High. O Come All Ye Faithful. Silent Night. The First Noel. O Little Town of Bethlehem. Away in a Manger. Good King Wenceslas. Joy to the World. Let it Snow. O Christmas Tree. What the hell am I doing here? O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely…

My cousins were gossiping near the Christmas tree, my grandfather was amusing Bobby’s kids with magic tricks, my grandmother was knitting, Aunt Agnes was showing off her new skills with her iPhone, Joan was watching her like a hawk, and the rest of the family was scattered around the TV or the messy dessert table. All of a sudden, Great-Uncle Steve broke from his Christmas tunes and started playing “The Enteratiner.” He was playing louder, aggressively hitting the keys with a face of concentration. Aunt Agnes got up and squealed, running to her bag in the front closet.

On the repeat of the song, Aunt Agnes appeared in the hall, wearing tap shoes. She tapped across the floor, jumping and waving her hands around frantically. I looked over at Joan. She looked horrified, but didn’t move from her seat. Agnes continued, and Great-Uncle Steve started sweating at his seat at the piano.

Grandma was wearing the tea cozy she knitted, and dancing as if swirling around with an invisible partner. She was in her own little world, and Papa was fast asleep in the reclining chair.

Bobby’s kids went over to the red-and-green cupcakes and started throwing them across the room, laughing like clowns. Bobby got up and started chasing them around, only spreading red and green goo across the floor like a child’s finger painting. The girls shrieked in joy.

The cousins, now drunk, started dancing around the roman columns like it was the Maypole of Merry Mount. They clutched onto their beers, spilling them a little as they circled around the pole in a trance. The other aunts and uncles gathered, watching in fascination, clapping. Drunk, drunk drunk. Step, step, step.

My mom and dad were having a pie-eating contest in the corner, sticking their faces into the cinnamon-sweet apple concoction that Aunt Agnes made every year. They held their hands behind their backs and bent over like they were acrobats preparing to jump. It was gross.

Laura and Tyler had turned the volume of the TV all the way up, making the dog show hosts scream over the repetition of Great-Uncle Steve’s rendition of the Entertainer. They took all of Tyler’s matchbox cars, and started throwing them into the unsuspecting path of Aunt Agnes, still tapping. The noise was unbearable, clanking piano keys, clapping, shrieking, tapping, laughing, running. It was a full-blown Comic Con with the added thrill of a death metal concert and a carnival going on simultaneously.

All of a sudden, a furry brown boot launched from the couch and slammed into the Christmas tree. Everything stopped. The floor was covered in frosting, beer, and matchbox cars. Joan stood up, not wearing shoes, and walked over the frosting to the center of the floor. Aunt Agnes was standing on a table in her tap shoes. She looked terrified.

“Joan-” she whispered.

“No.” Joan interrupted her, ferociously. Her voice had dropped two octaves and she was holding her reindeer pin in her hand. “You invited me to see your family. And spent the whole time ignoring me! You’re tapping on a goddamn wooden table! You’re wearing a circus performer’s costume! And not even a good one! I don’t know why I agreed to marry you! You’re a mad woman! I’m leaving!”

Aunt Agnes looked shocked. She quivered, and got down from the table top. “Please…”

“You’re mental.” Joan turned on the spot, heading for the back doors to the open field. Once she hit the doors she ran. She ran straight for the woods, wearing no shoes, her green pantsuit flowing in the cold December breeze. Her reindeer pin was left on the floor at Aunt Agnes’ feet. That was it, that was the last time I ever saw her.

“Rachel,” my mom whispered. “Rachel, wake up.” She nudged me softly. “We’re leaving soon.”

My cousins were gossiping near the Christmas tree, my grandfather was amusing Bobby’s kids with magic tricks, my grandmother was knitting, Aunt Agnes was showing off her new skills with her iPhone, Joan was watching her like a hawk, and the rest of the family was scattered around the TV or the messy dessert table. Laura and Tyler were putting on their coats. Grandma and Papa were handing each of them a green-striped gift bag. My mom handed me my jacket, and I muddled over to my grandparents. We all said our thank-you’s, waved goodbye to the rest of the family, and piled into the car.

As we drove away, my dad laughed. “So did you all have fun this time?”

Laura nodded. “It was fun! And Great-Uncle Steve has gotten so much better at the piano!”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “I liked the cupcakes.”

I looked down at my hands and laughed. I tapped my feet on the floor of the car. The tune “The Entertainer” was playing over in my head. “Yeah,” I giggled. “I guess you could say it wasn’t the worst Christmas party I’ve ever been to. I mean, no one ran away, right?”

“What?” my mom asked, confused.

“Oh nothing,” I said, “Nothing at all.”