The Christmas Visit (A Christmas Short Story)

Blurb

Christmas for Binta, daughter of one of the richest Real Estate Brokers in Lagos State, is a bitter-sweet season. When plans change from a fairytale dream in a much-coveted amusement park on Victoria Island to a rundown mansion in the suburbs of Badagry, Binta feels her entire holiday is turning into a Christmas nightmare. However, she is pleasantly shocked when, in the wee hours of Christmas morning, she is visited by someone who in her opinion is far better than Santa, and her biggest wish is granted. 

~~~

5:24 pm, 20th December

"Aunt Clara, do you think the chickens will also mourn their family members that'll be killed this Christmas?" I said, my mouth stuffed with a slice of the first batch gourmet cupcakes she was making.

My aunt chuckled and wiped her batter-coated palms on a checkered kitchen napkin. 

"You have one of the most imaginative brains and inquisitive mouths I've seen in my lifetime, munchkin." 

I rolled my eyes. I loved Aunt Clara's professional baking skills but it never ceased to annoy me whenever she failed to realize that I was fourteen going on fifteen. That pet name is long overdue.   

"You know, as a child, I and my sister, your mom—may her soul rest in peace,” she sighed and paused before continuing, “—always imagined the chickens weeping as the angels sang." A bemused smile was plastered on her face as a wistful faraway look overtook her features.

She drew closer and bopped my nose. 

"But, we grew up and became wiser. Moreover, Jesus, who is the reason for the season, didn't come for the chickens. He came because of us. Because of that, we don't have to mourn, only rejoice. And that's the secret of my joy at this time, Binta, despite the odds."

I gave her a half-hearted smile, my teeth interspersed with chocolate-y bits of the cake I was still enjoying.

I bore an uncanny resemblance to my aunt—same almond shaped brown eyes, same black kinky curls, same plump lips and prominent nose. She and my mother were identical twins.

I never got the privilege to meet my mother. I was told that she died due to complications during labour. Today, the 20th of December, was my birthday, the day my mother bid farewell to the world. My emotions were always skewered at this time of the year.  

That aside, I would admit that I was eagerly anticipating Christmas day. I mean, this was the only day I was permitted to freely eat as much chicken and cake as I desired without being scolded for being a glutton. And, best of all, Christmas time meant no school!

This year, Dad promised me a special Christmas treat if I got the first position in my class. He'd take me to the biggest amusement park in these parts—Bevino Parks, V.I., the Lagos version of Disneyland. It was something I'd looked up to all year long. 

Easy peasy, I came the top of my class. My classmates were jealous when I told them that was where my Dad was taking me for Christmas. It wasn't just any Tom, Dick or Harry that could afford such an expensive luxury. 

Gazing outside the kitchen window, I sighed as I took in the view of the swimming pool outside. I wouldn't dare step into the water in the chilly-as-ice morning, though with the burning heat of the afternoon, it looked quite appealing. Maybe I'd go take a swim later and play Water Balloon with my cousins. 

"I'm beginning to think this house is unusually quiet. Binta, you don't think G² have killed each other, do you?" Aunt Clara piped. 

As though their joint nickname was a magic word, five-year-old Gabriel and Gabriella came crashing into the kitchen. ‘There goes my adorable twin cousins,’ I thought as I watched their banter for the umpteenth time today. One would think they would be in their best behaviour considering they were here in my house for a visit, but no, this place was like second home to them. 

"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Gabriella squealed, tears and mucus pouring from every orifice, "Gabriel is mean. He called me a sissy for playing with my Barbie doll. He pulled her hair out."

"Mom, she started it. She called my spiderman lame," Gabriel retorted with an angry pout. 

Gabriella hit him hard on the shoulder. Gabriel's hands fisted to deliver a more vicious payback. 

Another heated squabble would have ensued if Aunt Clara hadn't said, "Okay, give those toys to me." 

They groaned in unison, as though regretting their decision to come report. 

"Now!" Aunt Clara said, her eyes narrowed at them.

They grumbled but soon conceded and handed over the toys.

She cut out two chunks of my birthday cake for them and sat them down at opposite ends of the kitchen island. 

Gabriella ignored her brother's silent eye-signal taunts as I cleaned her face. She shuffled closer to me to coerce me to hand over my phone so she could play the Princess Dress-up game I installed for her sake on my phone. After much pressing from her end, I made a deal to give her the phone for one round if she agreed to make up with Gabriel so we could go play in the swimming pool together later. 

As she tapped away on my phone after agreeing to my terms and conditions, I gazed outside again and a wave of despondency fell on me. I had hoped Dad would be able to make it back in time for my mini birthday feast that Aunt Clara was preparing. There was still no sign of him till now and the sun would soon set. 

I knew he would probably have a cogent reason why he couldn't come back home this early. Perhaps another demanding client was keen on seeing all the house options available before settling for one. That was the usual story. Plus, holiday season was the prime time for the real estate business. 

I envied the twins. I just hoped they realised how lucky they were to have their family blissful intact. 

~~~

3:16 pm, 23rd December

"I'm sorry to leave today," Aunt Clara said as she hugged me.

I breathed out, trying to not allow the loneliness to creep in, yet. 

"It's okay, I understand," I whispered, trying to hold back the tears. 

They had to be back to their home in Port Harcourt before Christmas. Given the rush that accompanied the yuletide season, traffic could get maddening. The earlier they set out, the better.

"I wish you could come with me. But your dad tells me you have plans."

"Yeah, sorta," I said, trying not to let my excitement be damped by the disappointment that they weren't going to spend Christmas with me. 

"Take lots of pictures and send them to me, you hear?" 

"Okay."

"I love you, my munchkin!"

"Love you too," I whispered back as I watched her pile the last bit of their luggage into the boot.  

"Auntie Binta, bye-bye!" the cheery twins chorused, their pudgy little hands turning out the window. 

They reconciled their latest major argument last night over a bowl of shared ice cream as we watched a Disney cartoon late into the night.  

I went back into the house after their vehicle had disappeared in the distance, back to the bore and silence. 

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of popcorn leftover from my birthday and ambled to the living room. I plopped on the largest sofa, switched on the DSTV and started flipping through the channels. 

On a normal day, I'd just go straight to Nickelodeon, but today I was feeling too lonely to bear watching a bunch of happy kids enjoying the festive season with their friends and family. 

Turned out almost every channel was riddled with a hint of Christmas. I gave up channel surfing, went to the study room and picked out my family photo album. This had become a favourite pastime of mine whenever I felt down. 

I gently took a seat and began to turn the pages. After five pages of my parent's wedding pictures and two of myself as a baby, Mom's full portrait stared back at me with a wide smile on her lips. I sighed and touched her face on glossy paper. 

"I wish I could see you, Mom! Even if it's only for once." 

My tears came unbidden.

I sniffed and continued talking to nothing. "Dad's working his butt out. To give me a good life, he says. But all I just want is for him to be here.” 

Dad apologized for his absence on my birthday and got me a beautiful gold and brown vintage gown. He said I could wear for our Christmas carol at church, and that we'd both have a photoshoot after the fun on Christmas day. I hoped that would happen. 

“Aunt Clara and her kids have been amazing company but even they had to leave. I'm alone, Mom. I wish you were here. It has always been lonely." 

I hugged the big picture album to my chest and reclined well into the chair I was seated cross-legged on.

I remembered what Aunt Clara would tell me to do whenever I was feeling lost. I closed my eyes. 

“God, this may be a selfish request, but can you please make this Christmas okay, for once. Thank you.”

I didn't know when I drifted off to dreamland. 

~~~

7:05 am, Christmas Eve

The harmattan came super strong this morning. Even though it was pretty hard to leave the comfort of my fluffy bed, I was happy that I'd be having the whole day with Dad. In a few hours, we'll enjoy some uninterrupted father-daughter time in the coolest hangout spot in Lagos.

Pumped with energy by this knowledge, I sprang from my bed and ran to Dad's room barefooted, ignoring the coolness of the tiles against my feet. 

I knocked once and opened the door. Expecting him to be under the flurry of blankets, I bounced on the bed, to startle him awake. 

I was however disappointed to find the bed empty. Perplexed I stood on the bed and scanned the room. 

"Dad?" I called. 

A muffled reply from the bathroom told me he was still on the premises, probably brushing. 

I smiled mischievously and began to bounce up and down on his springy bed. 

"Binta, good morning," Dad greeted as he strolled in, his chin lathed with shaving soap and a shaving stick in his hand, "Stop that, will you? You're not a baby anymore."

I sat and crossed her legs on the bed, pouting, my cutest look on. "Good morning, Daddy!" 

"I can see you're all geared up for today, Binta," he said as he went to his wardrobe and picked out a corporate wear. I eyed his outfit choice suspiciously.

"Uh-huh!"

"Well, there's been a slight change in plans, dear."

I scowled. That was a bad omen.

"Okay?" I drawled, my shoulders slumped in disappointment. "So, you mean you have to run off to work again on Christmas Eve and our outing is cancelled? I get it," I said, making to descend from his bed. 

He let out a brief chuckle and wiped off his chin as he looked into his full-length mirror on the inside of his wardrobe's door. 

"Nothing of such is happening. As I said. It's just a slight change in plans."

He pulled me into his arms as he sat on the bed. I stiffened because I sensed he wanted to soften the blow of whatever bad news he was about to drop. 

"Our adventure is still going to happen."

"Really?"

"Yes. There's just going to be a slight detour at the beginning. I hope your bags are packed already, 'cause this morning, we're going to Badagry!"

"What?!" I screeched. "And you call that slight? That's like the opposite pole to Bevoni Parks!" 

"Calm down, Princess," Dad said. "We're just going to just scrape spending time in the park's hotel over the night. This place we're going to is an ancient mansion. The great-great-grandson of a Lagos chief wants to restore that place. He asked me to go access the place to see if it'd be worth converting into a museum. It'll be fun, just like a royal house tour, and it's just for one night."

I gave my Dad the stink eye. 

"Count me out of this! I'm not going," I blurted. 

If he thought I was going to budge so easily to this then he was so mistaken. Taking me to his work site meant I'd have to contend with more boredom.

"Binta, this means a lot to me. This is the big break I've been praying for"—’Good for you, Dad. Well, what about my own big break?’—"If I nail this contract, the client is promising to pay me a whooping sum of money that may mean I might just be free to spend the entire year with you!"

I blinked. That was tempting. It meant Dad could attend my school functions, especially my school's prize-giving ceremony to see just how well I was doing to make him proud.

It also meant I could ask for anything at any time and he would not be able to refuse my adorableness. A short-term sacrifice for long-term gain. 

"Okay. But just one night!"

Dad grinned and said, "That's my princess..." 

Before I knew it, his deft fingers had found my tickle spots—my abdomen and armpits—and I was reduced to a squealing and squirming pile in the bed. 

~~~

4:00 pm, Christmas Eve

I stepped out of Dad's Lexus and gazed up at the dingy 'mansion' that stood before us. 

The thought that I'd stay the night in this place made me shiver. Or maybe it was the salty, harmattan-laden wind from the sea that caused that chilly sensation. 

"Come on, let's go in..." 

I almost glowered at my Dad again. The praises he'd sang of this place on the way here made my initial irritation drift away as I imagined a 'Cinderella' type of mansion to be standing on this lot. 

This two-storeyed house looked like it was built in the stone age. Fired brick and timber were the primary building materials. And with its dilapidated and weed-overgrown state, it looked like a prime spot for a Nigerian horror movie. 

It took about five hours of driving through crazy Lagos traffic to arrive at this site. On a norm, it was supposed to be a two to three hour journey. But it was as if everyone in Lagos had decided that the last hour was the perfect time for holiday shopping and travelling. Once we got to the suburbs, the rest of the ride down to our destination, however, was a breeze. 

"Urgh!" I said under my breath as I tugged out my duffel bag from the boot. 

It looked like I'd been sent back in time. I was definitely not taking pictures of this place or posting on Snapchat

My eyes scanned the neighbourhood. The place had only a few curious-looking locals and many children who were only wearing only panties scurrying around and pointing/gaping in awe at us. 

The only signs of Christmas were the tied-down chickens and goats. Poor animals with mourning surviving families.

I plodded into the house after Dad. Everywhere was dusty. The sun rays filtering in through the openings made it clear that this place hadn't been cleaned in ages. 

In the pink and orange glow of dusk, I could see traces of importance in the house. The murals on the pillars and arches framed the lobby that led to the extravagantly large parlour. The furniture had old patterns but the wood seemed very sturdy and of quality standard. 

"Isn't she a beauty?" Dad said, grinning. 

I didn't reply. Instead, I stomped up the stairs, banging the wooden platforms as loud as I could. Soon, I decided against it as I heard creaking sounds. I didn't want to fall because the wood caved in. Who knew how many ancient termites had feasted here?

Hoping I could find a dust-free space to huddle in, I checked in all the rooms upstairs. 

Thankfully, I found a manageable room. I only had to clear off a thin blanket of cobwebs at the entrance. 

Inside it was empty and relatively clean. And there was a rolled-up mat leaning on a wall. 

"I can't believe this is how I get to spend my Christmas Eve," I muttered, pissed off as I dropped my duffel bag in a corner of the room.

I brought out my phone and turned on my data connection. Maybe surfing the internet would be a temporal escape/relief from this hellhole. 

"You've got to be kidding me," I gasped, appalled by what my phone was telling me. "No network? Just great!"

When I went back downstairs, Dad had cleared out a dusty table and had created a temporary workspace there. He was in what was supposed to be a kitchen, serving the dinner takeouts he bought on our way here. 

"I see you've settled in. You hungry?"

My stomach worms wiggled. I grumbled in response. Thank God Dad had bought food on our way here. I could never eat anything that was cooked in this house. We had to eat our dinner cold. There was no microwave.

After giving him the silent treatment for a while, I cleared my throat and said, "Please tell me we're leaving this house first thing tomorrow morning."

"Before morning light. I'm sorry if you don't like it here."

"It's okay. I'll survive. But I'll appreciate it if you don't spring up surprises like this on me next time."

A terse pause passed while we ate. 

"So, did you tell your aunt that we're here?"

"Yes. Late this morning, she called to ask how I was enjoying Bevoni Parks. I told her I was going to a village in Badagry. She must have tried to call again but there's no network here."

"Oh?" he said, frowned and checked his phone. "Oh!"  

I had always wondered how dad was able to manage seeing a woman who is the carbon copy of his dead wife on a regular basis. Aunt Clara was a single mom and I had fantasized about he'd becoming my mother one day, but it's either my dad is still grieving or they have no chemistry between them. I mean, how else could one explain how he'd managed to stay celibate all my life. Maybe that was why he buried himself in his work. He'd loved my mom so much—it was evident in the way he spoke about her in the rare moment that we spent together. Plus, Dad ensured to pamper me with the luxuries of life... Well, except on rare occasions like this. 

These thoughts, as I watched him eat from the takeaway, made my defences crumble. Besides, this was a rare moment—me and dad eating together—and I didn't want to ruin it with my sour mood.

"Dad?" I called. 

"Yes, Princess?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, shoot."

"Do you, um, have a Christmas wish?"

His spoon stopped midway to his lips for a second. I caught his expression—stunned. But he soon recovered. 

"Why are you asking?"

I shrugged. "Well, I'm just curious, you know... Everyone has a wish for Christmas. I know I do."

"Well, I have many wishes, and one of them is that you grow up to be a fine lady," he said, with a cheeky grin. 

"Dad, I'm serious! I mean something you want for yourself."

"Want to write Santa a letter?" he asked, one of his brows raised.

"I'm not a baby, Dad! And it's not as if there's a chimney Santa can come in through to deliver presents in this nightmare of a house."

"Actually, there is," Dad said. "This house was built when the colonial masters newly came into Nigeria and the then chief wanted to copy their elite style. It became largely useless, though."

"Wow! I should come to take my history lessons here. What do you think, Dad?"

"Haha. How convenient."

"So, what's your Christmas wish?" I said, leaning my chin in my palms as I placed my elbows on the table. 

"You're not going to let me off the hook, are you?"

"Nope."

"Okay." He sighed and turned sombre. "I wish time could be reversed and that Cynthia didn't have to die." 

Cynthia was my mother's name. I gulped down the ball of pain that materialized in my chest. 

"I'm sorry, Dad. It's all my fault. If I had not been born, she'd have lived."

"Don't say that, Binta. You're a treasure to me. I could ask for nothing more."

"I also wish she was here. I never got to meet the amazing woman that brought me to life."

"She was just like you. You're just like her," Dad said with a sad smile. 

"But Dad, how come you never spend time with me? I understand that you have to work to make ends meet, but I just wish we're together like this more often. Many times I feel so lonely and afraid that you'll also leave me forever," I said, unbottling my heart to him. 

"Oh, princess! I'm sorry I missed your birthday and any other event before that. Don't feel that way. I do love you, and I promise after this, things are going to change."

"That'll mean my birthday wish coming true," I said, smiling through my tears. 

"Come here," Dad said, his arms spread wide. 

I rose and threw myself into his embrace and stayed there for a long time, crying as he stroked my hair and cried too. 

When our tears had waned, I straightened. 

"Goodnight, Dad. And make sure you catch some sleep. You'll be driving tomorrow and I can't sit in the car with a dozing driver."

He laughed. "I'll try. Goodnight Princess Binta!"

I pecked his forehead and said, "I love you, Dad."

I grinned at his stunned expression and ran upstairs.

~~~

12:04 am, Christmas Day

"Tap, tap, tap!"

I turned on the mat. It had been hard to fall asleep on this hard cold floor. Now, one annoying sound was trying to drag me out of my blissful sleep.  

"Tap, tap, tap!" The sound persisted. It came from downstairs. Dad was probably working late and was tapping at some wood, thinking I was deeply asleep. 

I reluctantly sat up and listened for a minute. 

"Ooooohhh!" I whined when the sound persisted. 

I wore my hoodie and went downstairs, my phone's flashlight on.

When I got to the ground floor, Dad was deeply asleep at an awkward angle in the chair he'd been working in. Weird! What then was making that sound?

With a bit of effort, I adjusted Dad's posture and placed his askew blanket over him more comfortably.

The tapping sound came again, this time louder and faster, startling me. It came from the centre of the living room, where the dysfunctional fireplace was situated.

Fear coursed through me. I considered waking Dad up, but I braved up. I didn't believe in ghosts and haunted houses. 

Worst case scenario, it could be large rats tap dancing in the crevices. 

Best case scenario, Santa was trying to come down the chimney. As if…

Just to be extra safe, I grabbed the pestle lying fallow on the wall and clutched it tightly as I approached the living room. 

Eyes darting about the spacious living room, I drew closer to the fireplace.

That was when I saw it. 

There was a human figure bent over the fireplace. The person seemed to be arranging wood in the fireplace. 

From the back view, the hairstyle, and the ankle-long cotton-white and blue dress, I suspected it was a woman. I suppressed the urge to scream. A calm aura about this person eased my fears a tad bit.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to conceal the tremor in my voice.

The figure turned. 

"Mom?" I spluttered in disbelief, eyes wide open like saucers. 

I blinked my eyes and shook my head several times. I must be hallucinating. No, this had to be a dream. My heartbeat sped up. 

"Hello, Binta!" she said, her voice warm. My mother was standing in front of me. I should wake Dad, now!

I shook my head. Even though I was in shock, my mind was running a thousand miles per hour. African Magic movies had installed a single idea about what it meant if someone saw a dead person. Messages from church churned in my brain. What if this was just an evil spirit capitalizing on my desire to see my mother? I had to be very careful.

"Mom? I- I can't believe this! You're dead!"

She smiled and my heart thawed. "I know that."

"You are not supposed to be here."

"God hears prayers and he allowed me just one night to come to see you, and for you to see me too."

I relaxed. Aunt Clara had inculcated nice ideas in my head about God even though most of them were hard to understand. But this…

"Okay. But..."

"You're wondering if this is a dream, right?"

I nodded. 

"Christmas wishes from a sincere heart are precious to God. He sent His Son as the ultimate gift for this season, yes, but he still loves to surprise his children once in a while with what they want. There's nothing impossible with God."

And with that proclamation, she snapped her fingers and the place became lighted. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace. Light from candles perched on a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling illuminated the polished mahogany floor. 

Everything had turned brand-new. 

Mom remained in her angelic flowing gown while my PJs turned into a fancy red and gold Christmas dress, much like the one Dad bought for me on my birthday.

"Come, dear," she said, like Dad normally did, with arms open. I ran and buried my face in the folds of her dress. She smelled like sunshine and rainbows. 

"Merry Christmas, Binta! I hope this satisfies your wish. Come sit. We have all night to talk."

And so I did. 

I told her many things. She listened patiently. 

I told her about how sad I was when Ruby, my puppy bestie, died when I was ten. 

I told her all about my crush on Henry in my class and how it was frustrating that he didn't seem to notice me. 

I told her how I was contemplating going to art class instead of science like what the teachers expected a brilliant mind as mine would do. 

I told her how scared I was when I saw my first period earlier this year and how Aunt Clara was so kind and patient to guide me in the journey of womanhood. I told her all I could about Dad, and she smiled silently all through.

It was fun. It was unbelievable. I was talking so fast, afraid that everything would evaporate if I stopped. 

After whispering a message for her sister and Dad in my ear, she pulled back, stared into my eyes and said, "I love you. I'll see you again and we'll be together forever."

Everything became fuzzy after that. 

~~~

8:37 am, Christmas Day

"Hey, Princess! Wake up, we're already late."

I woke up with a start. Dad's face stared down at me, a little bit of worry etched on his face. He was most likely wondering why I was curled up on the cold floor in front of the equally cold and empty fireplace.  

It was a dream, after all. I deflated at that. It had felt so real. But still, I was elated that I could get to see and spend Christmas morning with my mother. 

"The sun's up. What time is it?" I asked with a yawn. 

"To nine. Hurry, so we can get breakfast and head out to the park."

He made to leave. 

"Dad? I… I saw Mom tonight."

He halted and whirled on his heels to face me, his expression perplexed. 

"Uh? What did you say?"

"Mom. I saw her. It was most likely a dream but it was so real. We talked for a long time in that sitting room. She said I should tell you she loves you and cherishes the time you spent together." 

Dad fought back tears as he paced and shook his head. “You saw Cynthia… Unbelievable. ” 

"One more thing, Dad."

"Um?" 

"I think this mansion has great potential. It can be a beautiful place again."

Dad smiled and pulled me into a hug. I felt at home. 

After I cheerily washed up and had a quick breakfast of bread, peanut butter and cold tea, we were all set to go. 

The rest of Christmas day with my dad at the Bevoni Park was Heaven on Earth. As we laughed and screamed on the rides with other pleasure seekers, I could almost hear her voice on the wind. I could almost smell the lingering fragrance of Mom’s presence around me. 

More than ever, I knew Christmases going forward would be more memorable, and for that, I was thankful for the perfect gift God had granted me. Just like Aunt Clara said, God was extra mindful of me and would hold nothing back to prove His love to me. After all, he gave His son first at a time like this. 

~~~

Author's Note:

This story is dedicated to anyone who has experienced loss of any kind this Christmas season. Know that, even if you might not get a brief recovery of what you lost as a Christmas miracle like Binta in this story was blessed to receive, Jesus loves you. He feels your pain and wants to ease your burden. So, this Christmas season, don't wallow in grief. Embrace God's joy and allow His love to heal your heart. 

If you enjoyed this story, be kind enough to leave a comment or review. It really encourages me as a writer to get feedback of any kind from my readers and motivates others to read the story as well.  

Don't have a Christmas gift for a friend? How about you send the link to this story with them? It might be just what they need. 

God bless and enjoy a lovely Christmas!