The Red Box

They were already late.

Sally rushed the kids into their jackets at the door, while Mark was already outside scraping ice off the van. Christmas morning had been yet another whirlwind of tearing red and green paper, rushing to get all the presents opened before it was time for their annual tour: as always, Sally’s parents for lunch, Mark’s parents for dinner.

There was no shortage of gifts for the kids this year – Lego sets, hockey jerseys, RC robots, books and video games – but none of them could match the kids’ expectations. It had been a particularly hard year for Mark and Sally. Sally didn’t make partner, as she had expected, and Mark had been laid off since September. So, the four-legged critter at the top of the kids’ list was absent. Tyler had done a decent job hiding his disappointment, Josie had not.

As Sally ushered the kids out the door, she sprinted back to the kitchen for an old bottle of Viognier that she would never drink – the perfect regift – and scooped up her keys from the counter. When she emerged outside, her breath now lingering in front of her face and reminding her they lived in Canada, the kids were staring up at the sky.

“To the car, guys, hurry,” Sally was losing her patience.

“But Mom, look!” Tyler pointed. Sally craned her neck and spotted one of the mail carrier drones approaching. She had become accustomed to them, now. At first they terrified her with their large frames, ink-black and predatory. But ultimately, they made life much easier. They could have all their groceries deposited right here at front door, for instance.

This drone wasn’t carrying groceries, however. Sally would’ve recognized the markings on the box. This box was red, but plain, and with one solitary golden bow atop it. The drone gently deposited the package on their front porch, the buzzing of its propellers inaudible over the various new snowblowers getting a Christmas day workout. Then the drone lifted itself back into the sky and was gone to fetch its next delivery.

“It’s a present!” Josie shrieked with excitement. The kids rushed over to the box, checking it up and down. “It says it’s for us.”

“Really?” Sally had to see for herself. Indeed, the box was addressed to “Tyler and Josie Martin”. Curiously, there was no return address.

“Can we open it?” Tyler asked.

“We don’t have time,” Sally shook her head. “But bring it in the car and we’ll open it at Grandma’s.”

Tyler, as the eldest, snatched the box up so they could bring it along. But as he lifted the parcel, there was a distinct woof that came from within. Sally’s eyes widened. The kids both screamed, and Tyler nearly dropped the box.

Without awaiting further instructions from his mother, Tyler slid to his knees and got to work opening the box. He worked quickly, and his mother marvelled at the speed of the same kid who had taken seven minutes to put his boots on.

Once the box’s flaps had been pulled open, a beautiful Retriever puppy sprang into the air (as if instructed to do so by a Hallmark Holiday Movie Director) and began licking Tyler’s face. Josie got involved then, too, and the puppy switched the target of its kisses.

“Jeeze,” Mark said, huffing as he jogged up the patio stairs from the driveway. “You really should’ve told me you went for the puppy, Sal. I didn’t get food or toys or nothin’.”

“I didn’t get them a puppy, Mark,” Sally sneered. “We can’t afford it. And it’s too much responsibility for this family right now.”

“Right, but, then who is it from?”

“Santa got us a puppy!” Tyler and Josie squealed in unison.

Sally forced a smile as her son and daughter looked at her with tears of joy in their eyes, but as soon as they looked away her smile was gone. Sally scowled at her husband and spoke in a hushed tone. “Who the hell would get them a puppy?”

“Well, it ain’t from Santa,” Mark said. “Cause if he was real I’d have a Lamborghini in the driveway and not a van that takes three tries to start.”

“No kidding,” Sally said. “So the question is… was it your parents? Or mine?”

***

The ride was awkwardly quiet in the front seat, both Sally and Mark fuming over the unexpected addition to their home. In the back seat, however, it was pure Christmas bliss. The puppy, by now having been named Mango, was joyously leaping from one lap to the next.

“We need to find out who did this,” Sally whispered to Mark. “You work on my dad, I’ll grill my mom. If it was them, we need them to at least pay for training pads and dog food.”

“And I’d love to have a conversation with your dad about overstepping boundaries,” Mark gritted his teeth. “This is just like with the salsa lessons in Cabo.”

***

As soon as they arrived at Sally’s parents, the kids rushed off to their basement to show their cousins how to play with the dog, and the interrogations began.

“Have something you want to tell us, Mom?” Sally asked her mother as they grabbed the tray of sandwiches in the kitchen. Sally’s mother tried an expression of cluelessness, but it was not very convincing. She tugged at the seam of her cardigan, cinching it tighter as her hand trembled.

“What do you mean, darling?”

“Mom,” Sally cocked her head and gave a knowing glare.

Her mother sighed.

“Alright,” Her mother conceded. Sally could feel her rage building up inside her, but allowed her mother to continue. “I had my breasts done. Your father thought it wouldn’t be too noticeable with these layers, but obviously you spotted it right away. It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do and now that we’re retired, I figured, why not?”

Sally’s mouth hung open and the sandwich tray began to tilt in her hands. Two turkey sandwiches flopped onto the floor before she stabilized herself.

“I’m sorry, you what?” Sally rattled her head.

“Breast implants, dear,” Her mother repeated. “Why? Is that not what you were talking about?”

***

Once lunch was finished and the kids were loaded back into the car, Sally got to debrief with Mark. The radio blasted “Jingle Bells” in the back so that they could speak in semi-privacy. By now, the kids had successfully taught Mango how to sit, and the dog was being heavily rewarded with leftover turkey.

“What did you find out from my dad?” Sally asked.

“A lot about your mother’s breasts,” Mark shivered.

“Okay, so it wasn’t them,” Sally said as she tried to scrub the past couple of hours from her memory. “It’s got to be your parents.”

“My dad’s a tough nut to crack,” Mark said. “He can be a real asshole when he’s uncomfortable. Better let me handle him. I’ve dealt with his nonsense my whole life.”

***

Pleasantries were exchanged at the front door, as everyone hugged and said “Merry Christmas”. The kids brought Mango in to meet the other family dog, a French Bulldog named Scotch. Sally faked her smile as she hugged Mark’s parents, secretly rehearsing all the things she’d say once she caught them. But Mark’s parents quickly moved back into the kitchen to tend to the food, and Mark and Sally were left alone with the rest of the family – siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles numbering more than twenty. They put on their game faces, locking eyes as they each hugged an Aunt.

Do you think it’s her? Mark mouthed as he embraced with Aunt Tilda.

She doesn’t know where we live, Sally mouthed back. What about this one? She stepped out of her hug with Great Aunt Milly. The frail woman smiled up at her and spoke in a wispy voice. “It’s so good to see you again Shelly. How are Tyson and Joanie?”

Mark and Sally made eye contact again and seemed to both be thinking She doesn’t even know our names. Not her either.

Sally marched past Mark on her way to the kitchen, secretly nodding at her husband as they parted ways.

Mark was able to corner his dad in the garage, the spot where his father had not-so-secretly smoked during family gatherings for many years. They each held a beer in hand. Mark’s father alternated between sips and puffs, trying to keep his mouth busy enough to not have to speak.

“So, dad,” Mark said. “Look. I hate to bring this up…”

“She’s leaving you isn’t she?”

“What?”

“I bloody knew it,” Mark’s father smacked his beer down on the worktable, and dropped his cigarette, crushing it harshly with his boot. “I always told your mom, it’s too good to be true for that one. He’s punched above his weight since day one. You lost your job and now she’s finally done with ya, huh? Well, maybe it’ll teach ya to finally go get some real skills. Tell me, did ya at least get to keep custody of the kids?”

“What? No. I mean. I…”

“I knew it,” His father shook his head, a look of disappointment spread across his face so wide it weighed his gaze down to the floor. “I never thought those kids looked up to you. Probably for the best then that they at least get to live with the competent parent.”

Mark downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp and then choked out his next words before he lost the courage. “No, dad. The dog. I wanted to know if you got the kids that puppy for Christmas.”

“The puppy?” His father let out a single, throaty laugh. “Not a chance. Jesus, you couldn’t take care of a dog anyway.”

When dinner finally began, and Mark was seated next to Sally, they leaned in close to one another as everyone else bantered.

“I couldn’t get your mom alone,” Sally said. “What did you find from your dad… are you crying?”

“It wasn’t them,” Mark said as a single crocodile tear formed and fell down his face.

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

After dinner, it was time for presents. Sally was able to regift the bottle of wine to Aunt Tilda, who was likely to have it empty by dessert. The kids received more Lego and robots, which were quickly cast aside for Mango and Scotch were playing tug of war now.

Mark sat on the sofa, alone, trying his best to hide his misery as a gift finally made its way to him.

“Part of Secret Santa,” Mark’s mother told him with a wink. She deposited a small red box on his lap. The box was plain, but for a single golden bow atop it. Mark’s heart raced.

“Who gave me this?” Mark yelled, standing up. At first, only a few people heard him over the din and the barking dogs. He repeated himself, this time screaming “Who the hell is this present from!?”

Everyone fell into silence. Even the dogs froze. Mango dropped the tug toy onto the floor.

“Jesus, Mark,” It was Mark’s younger brother who finally spoke. “It’s supposed to be secret Santa.”

“Aha!” Mark pointed a finger at his brother and let loose a hearty laugh. Everyone looked at him as if he was off his Nutcracker. “So it was you. What is this then? Another puppy? Or is it finally a leash, some food, or anything at all that we could possibly need to raise a dog in our home?” Mark started tearing open the red box.

“It’s socks, for crying out loud,” Mark’s brother muttered just as Mark pulled a pair of checkered socks from the package. “That’s it.”

Embarrassed, Mark changed his tone. “So, I take it the puppy wasn’t from you then?”

“Did anyone here get the kids the puppy?” Sally cried out, desperate now. Everyone shook their heads silently and then went back to their eggnog, wine or punch.

“I told you, Mom,” Tyler said. “Santa got it for us.”

“That’s right, honey,” Mark’s mother came over, smiling, and looked from the kids to Sally and Mark. “Mango was a gift from Santa.”

Santa’s not real, Mom, Mark mouthed, careful not to speak it in front of the children.

“What?” Mark’s mother asked, having not been able to read his lips.

“Never mind,” Mark waved her off and retreated to the garage.

***

When the night had wrapped up, Sally and Mark collected the kids and Mango, who by now was exhibiting remarkable recall skills for such a young dog. They all said their goodbyes, and Sally took note of a forced handshake between Mark and his father.

Once in the van, the kids passed out, exhausted from the activity. Mango was on Josie’s lap, snoring.

“So, if it wasn’t any of our family, who was it?” Mark asked.

“Maybe it really was Santa,” Sally sighed, barely listening. All she could think about was the headache it would be to housetrain this animal. The kids would eventually grow bored of taking Mango for walks, and that task would no doubt fall to her. At least Mark was unemployed and could be home all day with the dog. Maybe it wasn’t the worst timing after all.

“It wasn’t Santa. All those gifts from Santa under the tree were put there by us,” Mark said. “Every year. Since Tyler was born.” He sighed. Now he was thinking about what things had been like when Tyler was born. Things were so great when the kids were little, all cuddly and full of curiosity. Now they wanted nothing to do with him. The family was growing up too fast. Maybe the dog wasn’t the worst thing to happen to them after all.

Mark and Sally locked eyes one more time, just barely able to make out one another’s face by the dashboard light. Sally’s eyes lit up. Mark grinned.

Merry Christmas, they each mouthed.

As Mark pulled the van into the cul-de-sac he was forced to slam on the brakes. The kids jolted awake in the back seat, and little Mango let out a whimper as he nearly toppled over.

“What happened?” Tyler asked.

Sitting parked in their driveway was a Lamborghini.