The holiday season was supposed to be a time for family, love, and good food, but that all changed the moment my brother, Ryan, and his wife, Lindsey, showed up at our door just days before Christmas. They needed a place to stay because their heating had broken, and with the cold snap, their house was unbearable.
At first, I didn’t mind. Nathan, my husband, and I were more than happy to welcome them in. But, little did I know, this “kindness” would turn into a Christmas nightmare.
“Thanks for letting us crash here,” Ryan said, his voice tinged with exhaustion as they dragged their bags inside. “We might be here for a while. Can’t find an electrician, and the house is freezing.”
“It’s no problem,” Nathan replied, always the gracious host. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Everything was fine at first, but by the third day, things started to unravel. Lindsey took over our master bathroom, leaving damp towels, makeup, and half-used toiletries everywhere. I didn’t mind at first, but then I noticed my sweaters were missing, and worse, they’d somehow ended up in her suitcase without a word of asking.
The irritation started to simmer beneath the surface, but it wasn’t until Christmas Eve that things really took a turn. We gathered around the breakfast table, and I noticed something missing—something that made my heart stop. The mantel, which had been lovingly decorated with garlands, lights, and stockings, was now bare.
My eyes darted to the spot where my mother’s black marble vase used to sit. The vase held her ashes—ashes she’d asked us to keep with us during the holidays so she could “be with us one last time.” This was supposed to be our first Christmas without her, and I had promised to keep her close.
“Has anyone seen Mom?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Lindsey looked up from her plate, almost as if she hadn’t heard me. “You mean her ashes? I threw them out in the backyard. That vase freaked me out every time I saw it.”
The room went silent. My world seemed to collapse.
“You did WHAT?!” I gasped, unable to believe what I was hearing.
“I threw them out,” she repeated, as if I was asking about an old piece of junk. “Relax, it’s just ashes. Why are you all so dramatic?”
My blood boiled. Without thinking, I sprang to my feet, my body trembling with fury. “How could you? Mom had one wish, and you—” Tears blurred my vision as I struggled to hold back the rage threatening to overwhelm me.
Lindsey rolled her eyes, barely looking up. “It’s not like she’s going to know,” she said dismissively, as if what she’d done was no big deal.
My body shook with anger, but I managed to turn and storm out the back door, praying I could still find some of her ashes. I spent the next hour combing through the yard and rifling through the trash, but it was too late. My mother’s memory—her last wish—was gone.
That night, I lay awake, fuming. I wanted to kick Lindsey out then and there, but Ryan’s pleading gaze stopped me.
“Please,” he whispered during dinner. “Just wait until after Christmas. We have nowhere else to go.”
Reluctantly, I agreed, but I wasn’t sure how I’d survive the next twenty-four hours. Then, around midnight, the silence was shattered by a blood-curdling scream. Nathan and I shot out of bed, exchanging alarmed looks. We rushed upstairs, only to be hit by an unbearable stench—the unmistakable smell of sewage.
“What in the world?” Nathan muttered, covering his nose as we opened the door to Ryan and Lindsey’s room.
Inside, Lindsey was standing on the bed, screaming hysterically, her hair wild. The carpet was soaked in murky water, and the bathroom door was wide open, with a foul mess spilling out.
“Do something!” she shrieked, her voice desperate.
Nathan tried to keep his composure. “Looks like the toilet backed up,” he said, his face twitching with barely-contained laughter.
I couldn’t help it. “Why is it only your room that’s flooded?” I said with a grin. “Guess the guest bathroom and ours are perfectly fine!”
Lindsey shot me a glare, her face turning red. “This is your house! Fix it!” she snapped.
I couldn’t resist. “Maybe this is karma,” I said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Mom had a wicked sense of humor. This could be her revenge.”
Lindsey’s eyes burned with fury. “This is YOUR plumbing problem!” she yelled, but Nathan quickly stepped in.
“We’ll call a plumber first thing in the morning,” he said calmly. “In the meantime, maybe you two should sleep in the guest room and clean up what you can.”
I leaned closer to Nathan and whispered, “Do you think this is a sign from Mom?”
“Maybe,” Nathan said with a grin. “But if it isn’t, it sure feels like it.”
The next morning, Ryan filled us in on what happened. Apparently, Lindsey had used the toilet in the middle of the night, and when she went to get back into bed, she slipped on the mess, shrieking as she tried to jump onto the bed! We couldn’t help but laugh at the image of her slipping in that foul muck. Even Ryan chuckled, though he quickly tried to hide it.
Unfortunately for Lindsey, her bad luck continued into Christmas Day. The plumber couldn’t make it until the day after Christmas, leaving us to celebrate the holiday with the lingering smell of sewage in the air.
Christmas dinner was awkward. Lindsey barely touched her food, and the rest of the family—cousins, aunts, uncles—were all too happy to laugh and share stories. At one point, Ryan pulled me aside, looking guilty.
“Thanks for not kicking us out,” he said, his voice low. “I know Lindsey can be… difficult.”
“Difficult?” I raised an eyebrow. “Ryan, she THREW AWAY MOM’S ASHES!” I hissed under my breath.
“I know,” he sighed. “I didn’t know she was going to do that. I’m really sorry.”
For a moment, I considered demanding that they leave, but I glanced over at Lindsey. She sat at the table, pale and rigid, her eyes darting nervously. “Maybe this is punishment enough,” I said, my voice softer now. Ryan nodded, visibly relieved.
The rest of the evening passed without further incident, though Lindsey seemed to avoid me like the plague. When she tried to complain about her ordeal, the family quickly shut her down.
“You threw away their mother’s ashes?” my aunt gasped. “What were you thinking?!”
By the end of the night, Lindsey was thoroughly humiliated, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of poetic justice. It wasn’t the holiday I’d planned, but it felt like Mom had been with us after all, in her own way.
Later, as Nathan and I cleaned up, he leaned in and grinned. “You think Mom was with us today, even though Lindsey spilled her out?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “If she was, it sure feels like it. And I hope she got a good laugh out of it.”
Nathan put an arm around me, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Well, either way, Lindsey got what she deserved.”
I nodded, feeling lighter. Maybe Mom wasn’t with us in the way we’d planned, but I could feel her presence in that moment—more than ever. And Lindsey? Well, I had no doubt she’d learned her lesson. What do you think of this story? Share your thoughts below!
