Gift Exchange

It's a universally known truth that the probabilities you might get a nice present in a gift exchange are as slim as having a warm, sunny Christmas Day in Toronto. Especially a family gift exchange. They're the worst. Or at least, mine were. So, when Mom called me a few weeks ago, saying we were doing the traditional gift exchange at Christmas Eve, I wasn't jumping up and down.

Quite the opposite.

Memories of Christopher's last year gift dampened my mood. My stupid brother thought it was hilarious to give away a yearly gym subscription in Chicago where he lives. He had to use my freaking subscription since there wasn't any franchise in my city. So, not only had I been present-less, I'd also spent over a hundred dollars in a gift-card from Amazon.

I think he felt bad for like a minute, so he told me he'd make it up for me. One year later, and I'm still waiting. Honestly, sometimes brothers suck. Yet, the worst part was that Mom made a fuss about my gift because it was impersonal and I hadn't taken the time to think about our lovely family.

So yeah, there are some serious injustices going on in my family. I got a huge speech about family traditions, while Chris got off the hook with the whole, I'll make it up for you.

For this year's gift exchange, Mom came up with a new plan. We both loved Stephan Moretti, an Italian celebrity chef. She stated that we would all get his latest Christmas Cookbook that would be released on December 22nd. Which didn't sound too bad, considering that would be a gift I'd appreciate. I also knew Chris didn't cook, and I knew that Mom was still pissed at him for last year's fiasco.

I gladly accepted the challenge and smiled for a week after I got a message from my brother ranting about the injustice of it all.

What I didn't take in mind was I'd be overwhelmed with work and I forgot about the exchange until the last day. I tried to order it online, not caring that the express shipping cost might be higher than the actual book, but it was unavailable.

"Shit, shit, shit." Mom would have a fit if I didn't bring the stupid book.

I finished my suitcase before I grabbed my purse and went to every bookstore I knew about, praying to God and Dad I would find it. If Dad were still alive, he'd understand the problem, you didn't mess with Mom or her traditions. He passed away five years ago, and I knew Mom still had a hard time every Christmas. It was one of the reasons why both Chris and I complied in any little scheme Mom came up with. And just like Mom, these were the moments when I missed him most, too.

One thing was clear, this little cookbook incident, was the first of many ways that Mom would find to make Chris pay because he never made it up for me. I wasn't sure what would be worst: Chris' fiasco or the fact I wouldn't show up with it. And I really didn't want to find out.

For the last few hours I had before the flight home, I went to six bookstores around the city and the book was sold out everywhere. It would be. Tonight, was Christmas' Eve and everyone wanted to cook something from Moretti. Damn. I guess I never realized that the guy was so popular to other people but Mom and me.