Page 23 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“I’ve never felt more miserable in my life. Even giving birth to you was better than this.”

“Really?” Olivia blinked. She’d heard the horror story of her mom giving birth . . . and why she’d decided one child was plenty.

“I feel like I’m being punished.” Jane reached for a Kleenex.

Olivia put a hand on her mom’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mom. What can I do to help?”

“Get your grandmother out of my house?” Jane narrowed her eyes. “I can’t stand it, Olivia. She’s driving me absolutely nuts.”

Olivia didn’t know what to say, so she changed topics by asking how Mom hurt her hip, listening as she blubbered a nonsensical story about a spider and how she was putting blue on her hair and fell down.

“I was stuck on the bathroom floor for hours,” she finally said, pausing to blow her nose.

Olivia touched a strand of periwinkle hair. “And that rinse was on too long . . . and turned your hair, uh, blue?”

“Yes.” Jane looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Is there anything you can do about it?”

“I don’t know anything about hair dyes, Mom. But I’m guessing it’s going to be like that for a while.” She pulled out her phone. “Want me to do some research to see if there’s a remedy? Or I could call your hairdresser and ask her.”

“Yes, yes,” Jane said eagerly. “Please, do something.”

“I’ll make you a deal.” Olivia put the tray on Mom’s lap. “You try and eat something, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Ugh. This looks repulsive.”

“I don’t know.” Olivia picked up a sandwich half and sniffed it. “You used to make these for me when I was little. Remember? Along with tomato soup. It was one of my favorite snowy day lunches.” She grinned. “Want me to taste it to make sure it’s alright?”

Jane just shrugged, watching with arched brows as Olivia took a bite.

“Oh, Mom, it’s yummy. I can tell there are several kinds of cheese in here. You have to try it. I’m going to ask Grandma to make me one just like it.”

Jane made a humph sound but picked up the other half. “Probably a thousand calories in it.” But she took a tiny bite and slowly chewed.

Meanwhile, Olivia picked up her phone and began to hunt for remedies for overly dyed hair. Unfortunately, it wasn’t looking too promising, but as her mom slowly ate, she read the suggestions aloud. Everything from olive oil to salt and vinegar.

“Sounds like salad,” she joked. “And this one says wash over and over with strong dish soap and follow with lots of conditioner.” She glanced at her sad-looking mom. “It’ll be hard to do much of this with you incapacitated like you are, but I can try to help you if you want.”

Jane nodded eagerly as she chewed. “Yes, please do. I can’t bear to look like this. It’s bad enough to be convalescing at Christmas, but blue hair too. Throw Lulu into the mix and, really, Olivia, I feel like I’m in some kind of personal prison.”

Olivia gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before taking a better peek at the mop of blue beneath the silk scarf. It really did look hopeless. But if this was God’s way of intervening, it was certainly more effective than anything they could’ve cooked up.

“You finish your lunch, and I’ll try to figure out a way to help with your hair.” She looked at the nearby wheelchair, wondering how easy it would be to get that to the shower, where she could lean her mom’s head back and do the rinsing with the handheld shower head. “You could always just cut it,” she suggested. “Or wear a stocking hat. Or dye it black.”

“Or shave it all off and wear a wig,” Jane said glumly. “But where do you find a good wig a week before Christmas?”

“A lot of people dye their hair bright colors just for the fun of it.” Olivia had never personally wanted lime green or purple hair, but it looked good on other people. “You can be very avant-garde and chic for your age group.”

“Please.” Jane rolled her eyes. “Let’s try some of those remedies you just read to me. And in the meantime, please refrain from calling me Mama Smurf like the ER nurse did yesterday.”

Olivia couldn’t help but giggle at that one and, to her surprise, her mother almost smiled. “Well, we’ll just make the best of it.” She tried to sound positive. “After we try those remedies, I think you should just style as usual and maybe it’ll grow on you. Blue has always been your favorite color.”

Jane’s response was a guttural moan. But Olivia thought her mother, now sporting Smurf-blue hair, might be perfectly set up to stop taking life so seriously. After all, Christmas was supposed to be a season of merrymaking, goodness, and joy—and heaven knew they all needed to laugh more.

thirteen

Just when Jane thought life couldn’t get worse, Cindy from next door dropped in with a plate of cookies. Her neighbor rarely graced her home since Jane had given her clear signals long ago that she was not particularly welcome. Oh, she’d never been exactly rude about it, but her consistent chilly reception had provided a pretty decent clue. And it had seemed to work. Jane’s way of showing her appreciation was to never shadow her neighbor’s doorstep and expect that Cindy would continue to do likewise. But Lulu apparently didn’t understand these unwritten neighborhood rules. Hearing the two women merrily chattering away right now was more than a little disturbing.

It was only Jane’s second day of recovering after her embarrassing fall, and she was yet to emerge from the safe sanctity of her bedroom, but she could hear Cindy and Lulu’s voices easily through her open door. If she’d been able, she would’ve jumped up from her bed and closed and locked her door, but so far, she’d only been up a few times to use the toilet, and only with Olivia’s help.