The Idea
I worked for an adoption agency, so adoption was going to appear in a story of mine eventually.
This story was originally written for a university assignment, another which I scored well on. I made some further edits when I got my feedback and grade, then entered it into another writing competition.
This is the story that didn’t make it.
I can understand why. There are some things I would do differently, for example adding a further paragraph or so to show the rest of Christmas day. However I was limited with my word count, so had to sacrifice this. I think I’ll expand on this story in the future, but for now I’m still happy as it is!
This story is one that is close to my heart, so wanted to share.
I hope you enjoy this, and a little warning there is mild mention of child neglect.
The Story: Christmas Daze
When Amelia opened her eyes on Christmas morning, the first thing she did was look over at her mother. Her birth mother. Her smiling photograph perched on the shelf next to Amelia’s bed. Merry Christmas she mouthed to the still image, in the same whisper she had wished her image goodnight before she fell asleep, seven hours earlier. Her eyes fell on the dull blue envelope next to the photograph. In it sat the last ever Christmas present she had received from her birth mother, something often overlooked on the shelf, but that stood out like a flashing siren, warning her of the memories that lived within.
Eight years ago to the day, a six year old Amelia woke up on Christmas morning and pulled the threadbare blanket over her shivering body, as she tried to get her frail and aching muscles comfortable on the mattress. Springs digging into her bones at every angle discernible. Amelia lay still when she had found the right spot, as the sun rose in the sky and the walls around her grew brighter. What felt like an eternity had passed since she had woken, when her mother finally stirred on the sofa in the next room. Moments later, Amelia could hear her name being called, drowned out by the coughing that interrupted every syllable. She stretched her boney legs out slowly, and raised herself onto two feet. She crept tentatively into the living room, ready to turn and retreat at any second, should she be commanded to. The smell of stale beer and lingering smoke washed over her. Amelia turned the corner and emerged past the door in the living room, hesitant. Her mother was sitting on the couch, a bright blue envelope in hand. Amelia’s spelling was a little behind others in her class, but she could easily make out the capital ‘A’ that dominated the envelope. Her heart sped up in her small chest as she approached her mother, her cheeks turning pink as her lips curled into a grin.
When Amelia opened the envelope, she slid a crumpled piece of paper out. She opened up the paper to find a black and white outline, a colouring in page printed from the internet, fading already into the paper as the printer had used the last of its ink. A dark gray watermark of the original artist covered the centre of the page, clearly printed from a copyrighted website. But Amelia didn’t care. It was something new, and her mother hadn’t told her to fuck off yet, or told her to stand outside without a jumper. So she grinned, thanked her mother and sped out of the room in search of something to colour it in with. She resurfaced into the living room a few minutes later, the blue biro that she found mixed into the cutlery drawer firmly in hand. By the end of that last Christmas day together, she had coloured the whole drawing in perfectly, and a solid blue unicorn now shone proudly out of the creases. Her mother had passed out on the sofa about ninety minutes after she had called Amelia in. No other words had been spoken, but silence was better than shouting in Amelia’s world, so this felt like the best Christmas in all of her six years.
Until a few days later. Amelia gripped the edges of the rough blanket tightly in her hands as it covered her eyes, but let in half of the light from the landing in the many holes that had formed over the years. She tried to sing a song in her head, to drown out the shouting. However, any time a tune began Amelia was startled back to the present by the high-pitched scream of her mother. The dull monotone yelling of a man passed through her body with ease, nipping her edges but not needing any attention. The deep, concerned voices of the police sent waves of panic through Amelia’s heart, the idea that she might have to live with another family was something that she feared, but also longed for. When her mother screamed, she wanted to run to her, protect her. But Amelia learnt long ago that her mother wouldn’t return the favour, so she had no choice but to protect herself as her mother screamed and punched and yelled and kicked.
‘Amelia, sweetie?’ a calm voice said from the doorway.
Amelia turned slowly and opened her eyes through the torn blanket still held firmly on her scrunched-up face. The woman in the doorway was around the same age as her mother, and had similar dark eyes. But this lady’s eyes sparkled when she spoke.
‘My name is Martha. I’m a social worker and I’m here to make sure you’re safe.’ She held her hand out to Amelia, while Amelia’s eyes darted from Martha’s face to her hand, and back again. In her own time, she stood up and placed her hand in Martha’s.
Moments later, she was being carried, barefoot and shivering, into the back of a heated car. Christmas lights flashed wildly in sync with the lights of the police car parked next to her. Amelia looked out of the window, her tears casting a haze until she blinked them away. Her house was dark and imposing compared to the rest of the suburban neighbourhood. The car door slammed shut and Amelia felt the warmth of the car run over her body, sending goosebumps over every inch of her exposed skin.
Five hours later she was taken to the first of many foster families. The second family she lived with the following Christmas had spoiled her with gifts. Amelia had looked up at her foster carer after seeing a large present under the tree with her name on it.
‘Wow!’ Amelia had said, ‘I must have been a really good girl this year, the best I’ve ever been. My first present from Santa!’ Tears glistened in her little green eyes as she spoke.
This family had to move across the country a few months later, sending Amelia to her third placement in less than eighteen months. Time moved as quickly as she did, so she lost track at times how many families she had lived with. One thing she did know was that this was the first time she was spending a second Christmas day with the same family, and that felt extra special.
Amelia had always found Christmas to be cold, loud and scary. She dreaded it; even in foster care she soon became fearful every holiday season as she knew the next move was imminent. But after almost two years, the Gibsons hadn’t sent her packing. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted as she heard the faint sound of giggling rising from the room below her. She put on her fluffy dressing gown, her Wednesday socks, and followed the noise.
Lucie and Sophia were sitting in a mass of wrapping paper. Small gifts from their stockings dotted the floor in front of them, double of everything in purple and green, as the twins would fight if one of them had something that the other did not.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Amelia said cheerily as she approached them. They glanced up and smiled, the joy radiating on their rosy cheeks as brightly as Rudolph’s nose. They wished her a Happy Christmas, and pointed to the tree on the other side of the room, befo
re turning back to their stockings and, in unison, reached in and pulled out more oddly-shaped gifts wrapped in sparkly paper.
Amelia’s eyes went back to the tree, and she saw a long, lumpy sock propped up against larger presents. For me? she dared to think. She moved slowly towards the tree, the closer she came the clearer the stitching at the top of the stocking became.
A M E L I A it said, and she felt her own cheeks warm in delight. She picked it up carefully and held it tightly in both hands, as she joined her foster siblings on the floor, in a sea of crumpled paper. She opened her stocking slowly and quietly, joining in with the twins’ playful games when invited, but sitting back when not, so as not to bother them with her presence.
When Amelia reached her hand to the bottom of her stocking and pulled out a netted bag of chocolate coins, she heard movement on the stairs. The twins jumped up and dashed to the living room door, ready to meet their parents and excitedly show them their stocking presents. Amelia joined them, standing a little further back in the room.
Her foster parents Erica and Louisa lit up the room as they walked in, their matching pajamas making Amelia’s heart feel heavy in her chest. They wished the children a Merry Christmas and ushered them all to the sofas. Louisa disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, emerging with a tray of cups, a steaming cafetièr, a tiny jug of milk and five buttered tree-shaped crumpets. The aromas mingled happily around the room. After lining their stomachs, thus began the tradition of taking it in turns to find their presents under the tree and open them.
Louisa was first; a few books, a new silk blouse in a dark cherry shade, and a large candle with six wicks. She stood up and made for the door, calling back to the room as she did so, instructing everyone to wait. She returned a few moments later wearing her new blouse.
‘Your turn, babe!’ she smiled at her wife and she sat back down.
Erica opened her gifts quickly, throwing the wrapping paper into the mountain quickly forming in the middle of the room. A body spray and body wash gift set, a wooden spice rack, with three tiers now instead of the two-tiered metal version that sat on the kitchen side, and a green baseball cap, “I’d rather be gardening” stitched into the front in cursive writing.
The twins were next, opening their presents together so as not to ruin a surprise of a present for the other. They did everything together, so joyfully waved their identical gifts at each other as they opened them. Vouchers for Primark, a new winter coat each, another huge six wick candle each, and a pair of tickets to the Strictly Come Dancing tour.
‘Me and Mumma are coming too!’ Erica grinned at the room, her hand stroking the knee of her wife unconsciously. ‘And last, but not least,’ she said, turning to face Amelia ‘whatever’s left under the tree is yours!’
Amelia smiled and made her way to the tree. As she approached, she realised that all of the presents from the tree had already been claimed, apart from one. A flat, a4 sized present lay alone on the skirt of the tree. She picked it up and sat back down amongst her foster family.
Her fingers ran over the creased sellotape on the back before she slowly peeled it back, careful not to rip the paper. Inside she found a brown envelope. She looked up at her foster parents, who were both leaning forward, their elbows digging into their knees as they watched Amelia open her gift. She pulled a couple sheets of paper from the envelope and took her time to read the bold purple writing at the top.
APPLICATION FORM TO ADOPT.
The hair on her neck stood on end as her mind ran wild with what this meant. Amelia second guessed herself, pushing the excitement down into her stomach. They must want a new child she thought to herself, this is the end. She said nothing as her eyes moved from the paper in her shaking hands to the gleaming faces of her foster parents. Tears formed a pool in her eyes.
‘So, what do you think?’ Louisa asked. ‘This is only the beginning, it will take the best part of six months but we’ll do whatever it takes to adopt you and have you officially part of the family.’
‘You’ll be a Gibson!’ Erica said, her voice quivering as she spoke.
Amelia looked back down to the form in her hands and replayed their words. They want to adopt me, they want me to stay forever. The tears that she was holding back suddenly began streaming down her face as she jumped from her perched position on the sofa, and into the arms of Louisa. Her tears quickly dampened in a pool on Louisa’s new silk blouse. Erica and the twins quickly rallied around them, forming a large family huddle in the middle of the living room.
‘Yes.’ Amelia finally answered, her voice tiny and muffled by the neck of her new mother. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’
After the emotions of the moment had calmed down, Louisa disappeared back into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with one arm full of gifts, and another pulling a brand new, purple bicycle.
This really was the Christmas that changed Amelia’s life forever.