I Took Back The Million Dollars

After years of making my own way in the world, I had finally earned enough to return home with my head held high.

On Christmas Eve, I drove home with a carload of holiday gifts and fancy goods.

I had imagined so many different versions of our reunion. Maybe my mother would rush outside, wiping her hands on her apron. Maybe my father would glance at my new car and show the faintest hint of pride. However, when I pulled up outside the house, no one was waiting for me.

I struggled to carry everything inside.

The television was turned up loud enough to fill the room, accompanied by the sharp crack of peanut shells being split open. My father sat in the centre of the sofa with a cigarette between his fingers and a relaxed smile on his face. My mother was holding out a neatly arranged fruit platter to my cousin, Mack Lester, her expression overflowing with affection.

The moment they heard me enter, the laughter stopped. Three pairs of eyes turned toward me in unison. There was no delight at seeing me again, only the irritation of people whose enjoyment had just been interrupted.

"What took you so long?" My mother frowned. "Do you have any idea what time it is? The whole family has been waiting for you before we could eat. What a grand entrance."

I set the boxes down and exhaled, the warm breath fogging my glasses.

"The snow was heavy on the way here, and part of the highway was closed, so I had to take a detour." I took off my glasses and wiped them, then pointed at the things on the floor with an apologetic smile. "Dad, Mom, I bought you a massage chair. I heard it's good for your lower back."

My father glanced at the enormous cardboard box, his brows immediately knitting together.

"Why did you buy this thing? It weighs a ton and takes up half the room." He blew out a ring of smoke, his eyes filled with undisguised disdain. "The house is cramped enough as it is. Are you trying to leave me with nowhere to put my feet?"

The smile on my face stiffened. "Dad, it was really expensive. It cost tens of thousands of dollars…"

"What good is being expensive? If it isn't practical, it's nothing but junk!"

Then he turned towards Mack. The irritation vanished from his face almost instantly. "Now, Mackie's the thoughtful one. He knows I love coffee, so he specially brought me some good beans."

I looked at the coffee table.

I looked at the coffee on the table. It was a clear, unlabeled plastic bag filled with small, unevenly roasted beans. Some were pale, some nearly burnt-looking, and many were cracked or broken. It looked like the sort of coffee one could get for a few dollars from the bottom shelf of a discount store.

I took the two cartons of Parliament cigarettes I had prepared from my bag, hoping to ease the awkward atmosphere. "Dad, these are for you."

My father barely glanced at them before giving an indifferent grunt.

Then, he pulled a stuffed envelope from inside his coat and shoved it into Mack's hands. "Merry Christmas, Mackie. Here's some Christmas money."

Judging by the thickness of the envelope, there had to be at least ten thousand dollars inside.

Mack's eyes lit up. He made a token attempt to refuse before quickly stuffing the envelope into his pocket. "Thank you, Uncle Jim! Hope you both stay healthy and get to hold a grandbaby soon!"

His words seemed to tickle my father right where it pleased him, as he burst into laughter, lifted his glass, and took a sip. "It really does take a son who knows how to make you happy to bring some life into the house. We can't let that kind of family blessing end with us."

My mother nodded along beside him, her gaze drifting toward me every now and then with a hint of reproach. "If only you were more thoughtful and quick on your feet, our family wouldn't be so cold and quiet. All you ever do is walk around with that sour expression on your face. Anyone who didn't know better would think we'd starved you or left you without clothes to wear."