Stay Away

the left direction

The journey to Amsterdam is long and tiring. It doesn't help that Fleur calls me while I am checking in for my flight, hyperventilating down the phone and telling me that she is going to die. Being the brilliant sister that I am, I get her talking about what she and Scarlett have screamed at each other now, which effortlessly slips into her offloading a bulk of horrible things that she has been carrying around with her.

With Fleur calmed down and me through security with a comfortable amount of time to spend in the First Class Lounge, I tell my sister to get some more sleep before she has to go to training. December will be her last month at Chelsea, and so she should start it with the last bit of passion for the club that she has left in her. She says that she hopes she can sort out her relationship with Scarlett before the transfer window opens.

I get to Amsterdam at three o'clock on the third of December, having left Australia on the first. Papa picks me up from the airport since it is a Saturday, and has the heating on the highest setting in his car. "Is this like Australia?" he jokes as I tug off my layers, throwing them onto the backseat. "Do I need to go warmer?"

"Papa, it's fine." The drive to our house isn't too long, and I am fighting sleep as the soft murmur of the radio entices me to close my eyes the next time I blink. He gently shakes me awake when we arrive home, and I am glad, because it means I can give him his birthday present as soon as possible.

Fleur got in touch with the team at Ajax, using her connections of being a footballer herself. We managed to get Papa a jersey with the number he told Fleur she should choose (which was not the number she went for) from the year he was born, which both current Ajax teams then signed. He kisses me on the forehead when I give it to him, grinning like a little boy on the 5th of December, and then sends me off to bed so that we can commence our hunt for gifts before we go to my grandparents' house where the rest of our family will be.

We drew lots for whose present we were buying this year. I got my grandmother, and Papa got Fleur. We go shopping together every year because we are both equally useless at giving gifts.

Opa and Oma live in Zwolle, the same as they have done since they were born. Papa's brother and sister live there as well, with us being the only ones in Amsterdam until Lize, my aunt's daughter, moved in with her husband. This means that our family is distributed around the neighbourhood we have come from. Fleur and I normally stay with Oma and Opa, Papa stays with his sister, and Lize (+ Finn and Noa) stay with Oma and Opa too.

There are three children among my cousins, but they have already seen Sinterklaas on the 12th of November, when he paraded through the city. Not needing to go out during the day, we mostly spend the time trying to wrap our presents in even more creative ways than last year. Fleur is the best at this, but she's stuck in England because of the season's schedule.

In the evening, everybody comes to Oma and Opa's house to open the presents and eat food as well as the annual poetry reading that typically results in someone's poem striking a nerve and causing an argument.

With Fleur on FaceTime on Papa's laptop and no one too suspicious of Scarlett's absence, we get through everything quickly, until Noa claps her hands excitedly together and hands me my gift. It's shaped like a tennis racquet.

"I wonder what this could be," I say, not expecting her to be good at the whole surprise thing yet.

"We can match!" she squeals, jumping up and down as I tear at the wrapping paper. The first thing I see is white fabric. This isn't a tennis racquet.

My eyes widen.

"You got me an England shirt?" My family are all cackling so hard at the horror on my face that they do not recognise it as anything more than a loyalty to my country. "The price was supposed to be under €45, Noa. How on Earth did you–"