by Rachel Kane
It occupies his mind the whole way to work.
He never makes it into his elf suit.
Rumson is waiting for him with another man, someone he’s never met before, old and bald and wearing a sweater vest and silver-rimmed glasses. There’s a lady behind them, also in a sweater vest, though her glasses have more severe black frames.
Charlie looks at Rumson, starting to ask him what’s up, but Rumson shakes his head and takes a step back. The older man says, “Mr. McLain, may we see you in the office?”
He doesn’t mean Rumson’s tiny office, as it turns out. No, this is the Human Resources office, the place he’d first interviewed for this elf job. It’s larger, brighter than Rumson’s cave, but there’s something in the air, a sense of danger. He can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The room might as well be pitch-black and full of frightening noises.
The old man gestures at the woman. “Judith, will you…?”
“Mr. McLain, as of this morning, we are terminating your position.”
“Wait. Why?” He looks over at Rumson. What did you do? Are you firing me because I wouldn’t play your game, wouldn’t pretend to be interested in you?
Rumson’s got a sick, triumphant grin on his face, but he’s not saying a word.
“We have several well-documented infractions against the employee code of conduct,” says the woman. “Including giving away free merchandise and tardiness.”
He’s waiting for her to say something else, something more personal. Like, maybe Wendy complained. He could see her doing that. He could see her running in here first thing, to get her revenge on him.
But the HR lady isn’t mentioning that.
“Is that…all?” he asks. Surely there’s more.
“The employee code of conduct is a contract between you and the company,” she says, her voice flat. It’s like talking to a shadow on the wall. “This decision is final. If you have any belongings in your locker, please remove them. Mr. Phillips will escort you.
There’s been some mistake. Charlie doesn’t get fired. Everyone likes him. He’s cheerful, he works hard, and he’s good to the customers. He looks in confusion at the people in front of him.
What’s he going to do without money? The mall job didn’t pay much, but it kept him fed, and kept the camping supplies topped up. Without a job, he was just…homeless.
He shivers. Well, at least there’s Val—
No. He can’t think like that. He can’t ask for Val’s help. That is exactly the opposite of everything he stands for.
That’s what was going through his mind earlier, why he felt a sense of wariness as he made his coffee and ate one of the croissants from Val’s supply. That lifestyle was a trap. It was all things that were handed to you, not something you’d worked to deserve. But there was always a catch. Always a hidden cost.
Don’t be stupid, this is Val we’re talking about. There’s no hidden cost. He loves you. And you…well, let’s be honest, you love him too. Everything he does for you, he does out of love, not to make you obligated to him.
Maybe it’s just the stress of being fired that has him thinking like this.
He follows Mr. Phillips through the back hallways, the passages where people roll their deliveries into the stores, and their trashcans out of the stores. Their steps echo off the gray concrete floor.
It hits him just before they get to the break room and lockers: Rumson didn’t come with them.
In fact, Rumson was silent the whole time. Carefully silent, keeping himself out of the process entirely.
That was interesting. It was like Rumson didn’t want to be associated with the firing at all. So it’d look like it came from a higher level.
Sneaky bastard.
Gino’s there, pulling his Santa suit out of his locker.
“Hey man,” Charlie says.
Gino gives him a sympathetic look. “I heard. Sorry to see you go, Charlie. You’re a good kid.”
“Thanks. Have a happy Christmas, Gino.”
He doesn’t have much in his locker, mostly just his elf suit. It’s his, he owns it. It came out of his first paycheck. Not much else in there, some papers, a photo of all the elves in front of Santa’s throne, a spare key to his bicycle lock, now useless.
He shoves it all into his backpack. On top of the letters.
Oh, the letters.
Who’s going to get them out of the mailbox now? Who’s going to read them? Even if nobody answers them—even if no one can do anything about the need and problems they represent—surely somebody has to read them, right? It’s the least you could do for these kids, to honor their bravery in asking for what they need.
“Gino…will you do me a favor?”
“Sure, kid.”
“The mailbox the kids put their Santa letters into…would you read those letters? Please?”
Gino gives him a skeptical look, raises an eyebrow at Mr. Phillips. “Sure thing, Charlie. Whatever you say. You got somewhere to go? You need anything?”
“I’ll be fine,” he says, that little weight off his shoulders.
Mr. Phillips seems determined to escort him all the way to the exit, like Charlie might go into a rage and destroy the Christmas decorations. Or maybe do a little revenge shoplifting. But before they get to the door, Wendy comes up.
“Holy shit, Charlie.”
He can’t look at her. Not after last night. “See you later,” he tells her.
Her hand is on his arm, but it’s a different kind of touch today. It’s not that weird lingering touch from a few days ago, and it’s certainly not the angry punch from last night.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “About last night. I was so drunk, I got stupid, you have to believe that. I feel so bad about it.”
He nods towards Mr. Phillips, as though displaying him to Wendy. “Just tell me this. Did you get me fired?”
She blanches. “Jesus, Charlie, what a question. Of course not.”
“Okay.” That’s all. Just okay. He believes her. He can cross her off the list.
It doesn’t matter, not really. In the grand scheme of the universe, the question of who got Charlie fired is really minor. Stars are being born, galaxies are being torn apart, supernovas are exploding across the sky. The fate of a mall elf the week before Christmas just isn’t a big deal.
He’ll come to that realization soon, he knows. Some meditation, some staring up at the stars, and it’ll feel better. Things will fall into place. They always do.
But damn if this doesn’t hurt. A worrying, nagging sort of hurt.
At least Wendy didn’t do it. Maybe they can’t be friends after last night. He sure as hell doesn’t want to risk it again. But at least she didn’t try to get some revenge on him.
If he’d known he was going to get fired, he would’ve told the cab to wait for him. As it is, he’s left with a choice.
Go home? Get back to his bus, get back to the simple life that makes sense to him, while he puts all these events in some order?
Go back to Val’s? Sink into the luxury and ignore everything that happened?
The thing about Charlie is, he has never had much use for treats. When stressful things happen, he doesn’t order himself a slice of pie with whipped cream, he doesn’t buy himself a new outfit, he doesn’t reward himself for having survived stress. He just gets on with life. He rides his bike, he looks at the sky, or he does some extra chin-ups if he needs to get the endorphins going.
So slinking back to Val’s right now, as refreshing as it sounds to slip back under those blankets, or be treated to a new restaurant, or just have someone to talk to about all this…it seems wrong to Charlie somehow.
It’s because you’re asking Val to take care of you.
Because, deep down, you know that you can’t take care of yourself. You think you can. You tell everyone you can. But this stuff just keeps happening. You can’t go a day without someone making an unwanted pass at you. Or making some other demand just as heinous. Nobody will eve
r leave you alone. You’re the perpetual victim.
That’s bullshit. Charlie’s not a victim, he’s a survivor. He can’t let Rumson and Wendy and Mr. Phillips get into his head. He’s got to clear his mind of all this, all the entanglements, all the trouble. And he can do that at Val’s. He just has to be clear what the boundaries are. He has to make sure Val knows he’s not there to be taken care of, he’s just there to be for a while.
Oh, but how tempting it is to just give up on mastering his own life. How sweet it would be to finally cave in. To say, yeah, fine, take care of me. I’m helpless, I need a big man in my life to do everything for me, to protect me from the bad old world.
He will fight that temptation to his dying breath. No one will ever, ever have that kind of mastery over him.
After a few moments of deep breaths to center himself, he calls Val.
22
Val
I will admit that at first I didn’t understand what Charlie was talking about.
I was still on this high from my talk with Rumson, that exercise of power. It had unlocked things in my mind. Suddenly I wanted to plan everything. I wanted to organize, I wanted to take command…
…I wanted Charlie. That was the surprising thing to me. It hit me with an irresistible physical force when I saw him. I had done this thing for him, I had saved him, and suddenly I wanted to ravish him.
We were in the back of the car, of course, so there would be none of that. I wasn’t the sort of person to strip Charlie down here in the back seat. Although now I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. I felt almost feverish with anticipation.
“What do you mean, you’re not going back?” I said to him.
He looked at me like he’d been talking to someone who didn’t understand English. “They fired me, Val. That’s what I mean. They walked me into the HR office and fired me.”
Lust had to give way for outrage. “How could they fire you? You’re their best elf! You’re a natural leader! Give me five minutes with them on the phone—”
“No! No. Absolutely not. I don’t need you interfering on my behalf.”
“But this is an injustice,” I said. “I’ve seen the way you handle the line. You have the skills—”
“It doesn’t matter. Seriously, I just want to put it behind me. I need… I don’t know what I need. A minute to think, I guess.”
“But why would they fire you?” I asked. “Surely they gave a rationale.”
“Oh, sure, of course they did. I broke the rules. The rules are everything, you know? Come in on time. Upsell the bigger photo packages. Don’t let anyone take pictures with their phone. Nobody cares about the rules, everyone breaks them, but they’re sitting there in the background in case anyone ever wants to fire you. Rumson wanted me gone, so now I’m gone.”
“Rumson,” I said. I had the sudden fear that he had spoken to Charlie. That he’d told Charlie about my conversation this morning. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. That’s how I knew he was behind it, how I knew it was personal. He doesn’t want them to know why I’m getting fired. He’s staying out of it. What a sick fuck. I wouldn’t cave in to his advances, so I get the sack.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment. The truth of the matter collapsed down on me like a falling ceiling. I had gotten Charlie fired.
Rumson had taken my threat seriously…but not in the way I had intended. He wouldn’t be able to harass Charlie anymore. He was obeying the letter of our agreement, if not the spirit. I had given him just the nudge he needed.
This was my fault. Completely. Yes, of course, in the greater sense it was a good thing. I could take care of Charlie now. I could buy him things, make him comfortable, make sure he never wanted for anything ever again.
But in a smaller sense, I’d done something stupid. I could hear Theo in my head, laughing.
You know nothing about people. Nothing! The minute you told Rumson not to tell Charlie about your conversation, he knew he had you. You never, ever admit that you have a secret. That gives him power over you at the same time you think you’re the one with power.
My hands were white fists. I felt I could not swallow this anger down, this rage on Charlie’s behalf, mixed with my own guilt.
I had to do something.
“I’ll have him fired,” I said. “We’ll sue. We’ll follow him to the ends of the earth—”
“No, Val.” Charlie’s arms were crossed, and he was staring out of the tinted car window. “No. We’re not going to do anything. He’s right, you know. I broke the rules. Yes, they were fake rules, but that’s the game you play with a job like this. I’ll be fine. It’s just been a stressful few days.”
If I couldn’t have vengeance on Charlie’s behalf, then maybe I could make him feel better. Maybe I should give him the bike now, before Christmas? Would that make things better? I’d given the driver no instructions, just told him to drive us around for a bit, but now I directed him to take us home.
“I have something for you,” I said. “A little something. I was saving it for Christmas…”
He looked at me. “You don’t have to get me a Christmas present!”
“I know. But you look so bothered, maybe it will make you feel better.”
Yes, that worked. The rage I felt was being replaced by excitement, by anticipation. Charlie would like his gift, and things would be back to normal between us. It would wash away the trouble he currently felt.
He didn’t object any further, but nor did he look at me again. I wanted to reach over and touch him, but I sensed now was not the time. He was deep in thought.
What an innocent man I had found, in Charlie. What a good-hearted person. People should celebrate him, not fire him.
Well, they wouldn’t have fired him, if you hadn’t broken his biggest rule, if you hadn’t done the one thing he demanded you never do.
There was the guilt again. I had to ignore it. I had to mash it down, cover it with the excitement of gift-giving, distract myself. It was no different than trying to cover the sadness and loneliness I’d felt before Charlie, staying up late and ordering new items from the commercials. Emotions could easily be managed through the proper use of money. All these people in therapy, on medications, they simply didn’t understand that what you needed was distraction, preferably the distraction that came from buying and selling.
“What on earth is that?” Charlie asked. “Val, no.”
There had been no time to wrap the bike. I had put a bow on its handlebars, and wheeled it out from a spare bedroom.
“It’s for you!” I said. “I don’t want to hear any arguments, you do need a bicycle.”
He walked in a circle around it. “But Val, this is… This isn’t just a bike. You realize that, right?”
My face fell. “Oh no, did I buy the wrong kind? The man at the bike store said—”
“No, I mean, it’s too much. This is…this is…”
He reached out and lifted it, as easily as you might lift a down pillow. A plaintive look crossed his face.
“Do I even dare ask how much this was?”
I shook my head. “No. Don’t ask. Because it doesn’t matter. Don’t think of it as a big gift. It’s something you need. Like socks.”
“Yes, this incredibly engineered, probably insanely expensive bike is exactly like getting a pair of socks for Christmas.”
“Charlie, will you accept this from me, please? Without a lot of objection? I don’t know how to defend myself from the line of thinking that says I can never do anything for you. I have all these millions of dollars, and more coming in every day. If I can’t spend it on you, I’ll waste it on spaghetti and mops. Isn’t it better to spend it on someone who can use it? Can’t you set aside this notion that a gift is a form of control?”
He ran his hands down the frame, not looking at me. But in the glow from the Christmas lights still on the floor, I could see his tears.
I didn’t understand why a bike would make him cry. But I knew that he l
ooked sad, and sad people like to be held, so I knelt beside him and put my arm around him and tugged him close.
Here is how I wanted this to go, how I needed it to go: Charlie would apologize for getting emotional, and I would tell him it was okay. He would compliment the bike, it’s beautiful, but…
We’d have a long talk about our lives. He would tell me the story of why these gifts scared him so much.
I would be understanding and good. I would tell him that to me these gifts seemed natural. If he were hungry, I’d feed him, wouldn’t I? This was no different. Isn’t love about taking care of one another?
But while I was playing out this conversation in my head, editing it, touching it up to be more sensitive to him, he was pulling away from me.
“I can’t do this,” he said quietly.
23
Charlie
It’s not about the bike.
Well, okay, it’s definitely related to the bike, but the sense of horror and dismay Charlie’s feeling is way out of proportion to the bike itself, and he knows that, he realizes it, yet he can’t seem to pull himself back from this feeling that everything is wrong.
It’s like double vision. He can see Val right there, innocent, worried, not sure why Charlie won’t just accept this magnanimous gift…but overlying that is the other vision, the echos of Charlie’s history.
Every gift has strings attached.
Eventually, eventually it all comes out. It’s never as straightforward as an exchange. No one ever said to Charlie, if I give you this expensive watch it’ll pay for me smacking you around when I get frustrated with you. God, if someone would say that, if they’d just put it out front like that, he would have been warned, and his life would’ve been much easier.
No, the price always comes later.
Val’s not like that, he tries to tell himself, but this feeling is rooted too deeply for him to be convinced. Everyone is dangerous, everyone.
