best christmas ever

My favourite Christmas—other than the year I got the game Operation—was the one where I got blackmailed by a mini terrorist into almost coming out, then did came out, and somehow survived. 

Linda and I met at university. I was pre-med and she was a budding activist with a side of law. She was everything I wasn’t: confident, fearless, unapologetically herself. Me? I was deeply closeted. We’d been together for almost a year when Christmas break rolled around. She had no plans; her family situation was complicated. So, I invited her to spend Christmas with mine. Of course, there was one giant catch: My family didn’t know I was gay, and I didn’t have any kind of plan to tell them anytime soon. 

Don’t get me wrong. My parents are great people—warm, welcoming, loving—but I’d built up this almost irrational fear that they’d see me differently if they knew I was a lesbian. That they would love me less. I don’t know why I felt that way. They had only ever shown me unconditional love and support my entire life, and I was secure in that love. But still, irrational or not, the fear was there. 

So the deal was, as far as they knew, Linda and I were just best friends.

We arrived on Christmas Eve, and Mom and Dad greeted us like we were celebrities. Mom practically crushed me in a hug, asking if I was eating enough, sleeping enough, and why I never called anymore—all in the span of about ten seconds. Dad, on the other hand, was all smiles and greeted us with his usual dad jokes like “Sandy, did you bring home a stray?

Before we even got our coats off, Mom was asking Linda if she was hungry and offering her a piece of pie. Food is her love language. She’s Italian and firmly believes that all young people should be rounder and she’ll fatten you up if you let her.

Dad just chuckled, “Sophia, for pity’s sake, let the girls get in the door!” He shook Linda’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Linda!” he grinned conspiratorily, leaning in as he took her coat. “Did Sandy ever tell you she used to eat crayons?”

“DAD!” I groaned, mortified, but Linda just grinned right back, equally conspiring. “What flavour?” she asked, which only made him laugh harder.

My older brother, Alex, showed up a little later with his wife, Gen, and their 12-year-old son, Peter—who, as I soon learned, had turned into Satan in a reindeer sweater.

The house was decorated to the nines, as usual, and smelled like cinnamon and pine, with the faintest hint of my dad’s aftershave. Mom had her holiday playlist on repeat, a roaring fire crackled in the living room, and every inch of the place was decked out in Christmas cheer. The huge Douglas fir tree towered in the corner covered in mismatched ornaments we’d collected over the years, mistletoe and tinsel draped over doorways, twinkling lights blinked in the windows, and a ceramic Santa perched precariously on the mantle. It was like walking into a holiday Christmas card full of warmth and welcome, and just enough chaos to be called home.

Dad loved Linda right away. He’s a big guy with a loud laugh and an endless supply of jokes, so when he realized Linda could volley them back just as fast, he practically adopted her on the spot. Meanwhile, Mom kept looking between Linda and me with this thoughtful little smile. She didn’t say anything but I could tell her radar was up. I could feel her watching us.

The next morning, things got complicated.

Linda and I stepped outside to watch the snow falling in the backyard. It was peaceful, quiet—just the two of us. At some point, she kissed me. Just a quick kiss, nothing scandalous, but it was warm, sweet, and perfect. We thought we were being discreet all bundled up outside in the freezing cold, and for a moment, I forgot we were supposed to be careful.

I missed being close to her and wanted so much to celebrate our first Christmas together in a more intimate way. I moved closer, about to kiss her again when I heard it: the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

We both spun around, and there was Peter, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. The little monster had followed us and caught us mid-kiss.

“I saw that,” he said, his face splitting into a devilish grin.

My stomach dropped. “Peter,” I started, “it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” he shot back, already heading back into the house. “I’m telling Grandma!”

“Peter, wait!” I yelled, running after him. Linda followed, trying to bribe him with cookies she’d made earlier.

But Peter, being the evil genius he was, stopped just long enough to make his demands. “I won’t tell… if you let me play your video games when you go back to school.”

What choice did I have? I agreed, even though he’d probably destroy my controller and probably delete my saved games. I couldn’t believe it. My own nephew, blackmailing me! Linda had to turn away to hide her laughter while I reluctantly sealed the deal with Peter using our special handshake. He walked off, smug as ever, and I knew we were in trouble.

I spent the rest of the day on edge, watching Peter like a hawk. Every time he opened his mouth, I’d stiffen, convinced he was about to out me. It was like living with a little, grinning time bomb. 

At dinner, he decided to start dropping hints. Nothing too obvious, but just enough to keep me sweating. When Mom passed him the mashed potatoes, he spoke loudly, right when the table went quiet. “So, Aunt Sandy, you and Linda seem close. Like, really close. Best friends, huh?”

I nearly choked on my carrots. “Uh, yeah. Best friends,” I said, forcing a smile. I wanted to crawl under the table. I was in no way shape or form prepared to be outed in that moment. Meanwhile, Linda was cool as a cucumber, grinning into her wine glass every time Peter opened his mouth. I failed to see the humour.

Peter leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “Huh. You know, I heard best friends share everything. Like, everything.”

I kicked him under the table. He yelped and glared at me, but it didn’t stop him. “Linda, do you think Aunt Sandy is a good…” he hesitated purposefully for effect, “…sharer?”

Linda, suddenly the picture of calm and serenity, smiled sweetly. “She’s great at sharing, Peter. Your aunt is a very generous person.”

I wanted to die. Meanwhile, my mom was busy passing rolls, completely oblivious, and Dad was telling Alex some story about the time he got stuck on the roof hanging Christmas lights. Peter wasn’t done, though. I wasn’t getting off that easy.

“Grandpa,” he said, turning to my dad, “did you know Aunt Sandy and Linda took a really long walk together this morning? I bet they had a lot to talk about.”

Dad chuckled. “Well, it’s good to get fresh air, Pete my boy. Keeps the blood flowing.”

Peter snorted into his cranberry sauce, and I glared at him. “Pass the butter, Peter,” I hissed, hoping he’d get the hint and stop.

He passed the dish—very slowly—leaning close to whisper, “I could say so much right now.”

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed back.

After Peter had finally left with his parents that evening, Linda and I collapsed onto the couch, thinking we were in the clear. I was exhausted from the mental gymnastics. We had survived the first night. Or so we thought. 

Linda and I were heading upstairs when my Dad called out, “Girls! Nightcap?”

Now, you don’t say no to my dad’s nightcaps. It had almost become tradition at Christmas if you were sleeping over. I forgot. I looked at Linda apologetically and she just smiled and mouthed, It’s fine. We shuffled into the living room and Dad poured us each a small tumbler of whiskey. Linda and I sat on the oversized sectional, a safe “friendly” distance apart, while Dad sat in his favourite recliner, studying us with a knowing smile. 

“So,” he began, “when were you going to tell me you two are a couple?”

I froze. “What? Dad. We’re just friends!” I said, my voice raising about three octaves. Linda first sip went down the wrong way.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Sandy. I’m not blind. I see how you two look at each other. Don’t bother denying it. I’ve known almost since you walked through the door.”

I panicked. “Did Peter tell you?”

“Peter? What’s he got to do….” Dad looked puzzled, then laughed out loud as if suddenly making sense of Peter’s antics at dinner. “No, I figured it out on my own. You’re happier than I’ve seen you in years, Sandy. It’s obvious why. You light up whenever Linda walks into the room. You’re always touching—‘accidentally,’ of course— and you’re both all rosy-cheeked when you come back from your little ‘walks’. ” He air-quoted “walks” and smirked. “And don’t blame the cold, either. I know love when I see it.”

He burrowed lovingly into his comfy chair looking way too pleased with himself as he continued.  “Seeing you together reminded me of my dad seeing and saying the same thing about me and your mom when we were dating.”

I sat there, stunned, while Linda, now fully recovered, was sipping her whiskey, looking like she was thoroughly enjoying the show, and purposely not making eye contact with me. 

Finally, Dad leaned forward, his expression softening. “Why didn’t you tell us, Sandy? 

I just stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn’t sure what to say or do. Deny or confirm. But mostly I was completely taken back by the compassion I could see in my Dad’s face. And the hint of hurt.

“You’re… okay with it?”

He put down his glass and leaned forward, his expression soft. “Sandy, you’re my daughter. I love you no matter what, kiddo. I just want you to be happy.”

I broke down, crying into my hands overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. Dad got up and sat beside me on, lightly patting me on my shoulder. Linda sat quietly, letting me have my moment. I told him everything. How scared I was. How I didn’t want to disappoint him or Mom. How I’d spent years pretending to be someone I wasn’t because I thought that was the only way they’d keep loving me. 

Dad just listened, didn’t interrupt, didn’t judge. By the time I had poured my heart out, I a messy, blubbering mess. I’ve been told I don’t cry pretty. He wiped my running eyes and passed me a Kleenex for my nose, all the while smiling the best Dad smile ever.

“Kiddo, we’ll always love you. You could bring home a goldfish and tell us it’s your soulmate, and we’d just want to make sure it’s happy and well-fed if that’s what makes you happy.”

That made me laugh through my tears, which was probably his goal. Then he turned to Linda and said, “And you, Linda. You’re family now and that means something around here.” 

Linda smiled, and I swear she looked like she was holding back her tears, but if you ask her she’ll probably deny it. We both hugged my Dad and I told him how relieved I felt not having to hide who I was. He reminded me that I never had to hide from the people who love me.

When I finally fell into bed with my lover just feet away in another room in my parents home, with my Dad knowing who I was, and who Linda was, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt free to love out loud for the first time since falling in love with a woman, and it felt better than anything I can possibly describe.

Mom, of course, knew by the next morning because Dad can’t keep a secret to save his life. When I spoke to her, she listened and then pulled me into a tight hug. “Oh, Sandy,” she said, her voice soft with emotion. “I wish you’d told us sooner. I hate to think how you must have suffered and felt so alone for so long.” I remember her squeezing me even tighter before saying, “We love you no matter what. No matter what, baby. And Linda? She’s just wonderful. And she’s certainly won over your Dad!”

She paused to wipe her eyes, then added, “But I must admit, my suspicions were confirmed when she offered to help me with the dishes last night. A friend doesn’t do that, dear. That’s girlfriend behaviour.”

I laughed through my happy tears, and Mom joined in. It was such a relief to finally have my parents know and accept who I truly was. That was truly the best Christmas gift I could have ever asked for. And in case I don’t tell you often enough, and you happen to read this, thank you, Mom and Dad. I love you both so very much.

As for Peter? When I saw him a few days later and I told him the jig was up, he looked disappointed for about five seconds before asking if he could have Linda’s dessert instead. Typical. To this day he still owes me a new game controller but I’m not holding my breath.

That’s my coming out story. During a crazy Christmas that started with blackmail and bribes and ended with truth, acceptance and so much love. Maybe not the smoothest beginning, but it worked out in the end because I have loving parents, and a wonderful partner who to this day is still the love of my life. She’s also my Dad’s favourite family member. Not that I’m bitter or anything.

Sandy Dawson | Vancouver, BC