***
“Anne Marie keeps forgetting her line right before the spaceship comes down,” Alex said, wringing his hands as he sat down next to me. It was Christmas Eve, and Osgiliath’s was packed full. The Santa Station was doing triple its regular business, and the seats we’d set up in front of the puppet show were starting to fill. T minus thirty minutes, and Alex was beginning to unravel.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, clicking the remote control on the camera and typing the name of the little boy on Bones’s knee into the NASCAR-themed border I’d chosen for him. “I gave her an Itty Bitty Book Light and a copy of the script. It’ll be fine.”
“Do you think it’s too weird?” he said. “You know, having Santa Claus be an alien?”
I laughed. “I think it’s great. It’s a great play, you’re doing a great job. Now, relax.” The printer whined as Anne Marie pulled another kid out of the train and ushered him to Bones.
“What if they all laugh?” he asked. “What if they don't laugh?”
I put my arm around his shoulders. “If you were twenty-one, I’d make you take a drink. As it is, I need that camera shot lined up. Go to work, boy.”
I picked up the printout and placed it inside the cardboard frame, standing up to give it to the father of the little boy in it. I looked up with a smile into a nasty little pencil face.
“Oh, man,” I said under my breath. Pencil Face was gripping his child’s hand so tightly I thought the poor kid was going to start crying. He was a pudgy kid, looked to be about nine or ten, wearing a brown suit and loafers, and in his eyes I saw the fearful reflections of a thousand playground bullies.
“Exactly what is this?” Pencil Face hissed.
“It’s a picture.” I handed it to the boy and gave him a wink, which was met with a small smile that never reached his eyes. I stood up and crossed my arms, looking for any sign of recognition from Pencil Face. There was none. I was just another bug to wipe off the windshield when he was done, same as before.
The kid opened up the folded cardboard with his free hand. “Cool. NASCAR.”
Pencil Face gave his kid’s arm a jerk for good measure. I glared at him. “What exactly is your problem, sir?”
“Santa Claus,” he spat, jerking his head toward Bones, “is black.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I said. “Are you kidding me?”
“What am I supposed to tell my kid,” he said, “when he comes here and sees a black fucking Santa Claus?”
“Whatever you say,” I hissed back, “you should watch your language.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “I want my money back. I didn’t pay eight bucks for my kid to be sitting on the lap of a black damn Santa Claus.”
I rolled my eyes and went into the cash box, grabbing eight dollars and thrusting it back at him, and wishing I’d knocked his lights out when I had the chance. The boy, with an expression of disappointment if not surprise, held the picture out to me. I leaned down and gently put it back in his hands. “You keep that, kid. Merry Christmas.”
The kid smiled up at me, then looked tentatively to Pencil Face.
Pencil Face rolled his eyes at the kid and spat, “Fine. Keep it,” as he dragged the kid away. I watched them leave, wishing I could grab that kid and hug away the crap that came with having Pencil Face for a father. Unfortunately, there was no fixing some things.
“It’s time,” Alex said, coming up behind me and tugging on my shirtsleeve. I turned and saw the excited face of a virgin playwright and put my arm around his shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
There were enough seats for thirty people, but Alex and I were left standing in the back with about twenty other latecomers as Santa Claus Is From Salkog-9 began. Jack, Kacey, Elizabeth, and Matt found their way through the crowd, and we all surrounded Alex as the show got under way I glanced at Alex a few times during the show. His eyes were locked intently on the puppets, his lips moving with the lines as they were said. He smiled when lines got laughs, and frowned during a couple of unintended twitters. I’d never seen the kid so involved in anything. At the end, when everyone did a standing ovation, the players came out for their bows, waving for Alex to join them. As he took his bows with the troupe, Elizabeth nudged me with her shoulder, and we laughed as we realized we were both crying. Kacey looked up at us and rolled her eyes. Grown-ups.
At the party afterward, I sidled up to Jack and put my arm through his as we watched Elizabeth proudly showing Alex off, with Matt at her side.
“How ya doin’?” I asked.
He looked down at me and smiled. “I’m fine.”
“If it means anything,” I said, motioning my cup of punch toward Matt, “he’s a bit of a Ken doll.”
Jack laughed, taking a sip of his punch. “Yeah, but he makes her happy, doesn’t he?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He does.”
He tossed his empty cup in a nearby trash can and gave me a quick hug. “I gotta go. Can you tell Elizabeth I’ll be by to get the kids around two tomorrow?”
I smiled. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” he said. “You gonna be there?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve got plans.”
“Okay, well, merry Christmas.” He hugged me again, then slipped out quietly. I watched him go. No matter how cool Matt was, and no matter how rotten Jack had been, I knew I’d always hold a torch for Jack and Elizabeth. But what’s none of my business is none of my business, and I had my own screwed-up life to attend to.
I felt an arm link through mine and was practically knocked over by Shelley’s mammoth stomach.
“That kid homesteading or what?” I asked. “Aren’t you due yet?”
She shook her head, taking a sip of punch. “No. I’m not due until January fifth.”
I could see her belly button protruding through her shirt.
“That’s it,” I said. “I’m definitely adopting little girls from China.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you’ll be here with Bones. It makes me feel better about leaving.”
I shrugged. “It’s only six weeks. Or was it eight weeks? When are you coming back again?”
She knit her eyebrows at me. “Did Bones tell you I was coming back?”
I sucked in some breath. “You’re not coming back?”
She shook her head and laughed. “That old sneak. He told me you’d agreed to take the position permanently.”
I laughed and looked over at Bones entertaining the kids with an animated reading of “The Night Before Christmas.”
“So,” she said, “will you stay?”
I patted her arm. “Are you kidding? How could I pass up the chance to bug Bones on a full-time basis?”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m glad. I’ll get with you next week and we’ll go over the details.” She started to walk away, then turned around. “Make sure he pays you well.”
I grinned. “I will.”
I watched Shelley waddle over to stand near Bones. Matt and Elizabeth were fawning over Alex by the refreshments. Kacey was standing on her own nearby. I caught her eye and waved her over.
“Geez,” she said. “You’d think he’d just opened on Broadway, the way Mom’s gushing over him.”
“I’m proud of your brother,” I said, “and I’d lecture you on the fact that you should be, too, but we’ve got work to do. You ready?”
She flashed her grin at me. “I’m always ready.”
***
Osgiliath’s was dark, with the exception of the fire-hazardworthy crop of tiny white Christmas lights Kacey and I had strung all over the Santa Station. I paced back and forth in front of my desk, trying to kill time. I checked the clock on the computer: 11:48.
Twelve minutes.
I’d put the finishing touches on a half hour ago, and sitting still was only making time slow down. I got up and wandered over to the artificial Christmas tree we’d put up in the corner behind the Santa throne. Underneath were all the fake gifts, with the exception of one that I’d
placed there two hours before. I walked by the long plate-glass windows on the west side of the store, checking out my reflection in the mirror. Elizabeth had loaned me her long, green, clingy holiday dress, and I had to admit I looked good. I patted my hair and checked my makeup, which Elizabeth had talked me into at the last minute and which I was beginning to regret. I hate lipstick. But what’s done is done, and it was too late now.
I wandered back to the brightly lit Station and checked the camera and the software. Made sure the printer was full with the fancy glossy stuff. I wandered over to Santa’s throne, fiddled with some of the lights, and finally plopped down in the seat. I looked at my watch: 11:56.
Four minutes.
I leaned back in the Santa throne, staring up at the ceiling. I smiled when I heard the familiar jingle at the front door, which I’d left unlocked. A moment later, Walter appeared from behind a bookshelf.
He was dressed in a tailored tan suit with a dark green tie. I sucked in my breath... He took off his coat and placed it on the swivel seat by the computer, but he never moved his eyes from mine. I stood up and smoothed out my dress.
“You look beautiful,” he said, walking toward me.
“I’m glad you showed up. I was afraid you might not know who sent the note.”
He laughed. “A mysterious note on my doorstep tells me to be at Osgiliath’s at midnight. I took a shot in the dark.” He stopped about three feet away from me and put his hands in his trouser pockets. His smile was soft and assured. “I’m glad I was right.”
I stood up and walked over to meet him. He reached out for my waist, and I put my hand to his chest, pushing him back lightly. “Not yet, cowboy. We need to talk.”
I grabbed his hand and led him toward the velvet-lined platform that housed the Santa throne.
His fingers tightened, entwining with mine. “You’re right. We do need to talk. I haven’t forgotten that you scared the hell out of me when you took off like that.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on talking about that now. Can I just apologize and breeze on past that?”
“That all depends on what you’ve got planned,” he said, his eyes running around the Station and then landing back on me. “If you distract me well enough, I might be able to let it go.” His eyes took on a devilish glint. “But I’m not that easily distracted.”
I smiled and put my hands on his shoulders. He reached for my waist. I gently pushed him down into the Santa throne. I sat on the platform at his feet and flashed my hands over the dress, smoothing it around my legs, then looked up at Walter. Lit by the tiny white Christmas lights, he looked more like Jimmy Stewart than ever. Indescribable elegance wrapped in undeniable masculinity.
He looked down at me, and I realized I’d been staring at him for a while and saying nothing. “Did you have something to say?”
“Yes,” I said, nerves gripping my heart in an icy vise. I felt perspiration forming on the back of my neck. I’d practiced my whole speech a hundred times, and now I was choking. I stood up and began to pace.
Walter started to get up. “Are you okay?”
I put my hand out. “No, sit, please. I’m trying to do this right, but... Oh, hell. It’s not going to be right.” I turned to face him. “Walter, I love you.”
Oh, man. Going to throw up. Going to throw up all over Elizabeth’s nice dress.
I put my hand on my stomach and continued to pace. “I’m sorry. I wanted this to be so romantic. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before, loved someone who was actually capable of loving me back... Not that you have to, and please don’t say if you do or not, because I can’t hear it right now either way...”
I was wringing my hands so tight the skin was starting to burn. I turned to face him, glanced at him for a brief moment, then snapped my eyes shut and continued to babble. “Not long after... that night when... you know, we did it...” Oh, man. Did it? What am I, nineteen? “... I kinda freaked out.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I figured as much. I wish you had just called me...”
I held up my hand. “Ah-ah-ah. Not done. I’m sorry, I just need to get through this, and if you talk, I’m going to melt all over you.”
He broke out his crooked grin and raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Ahhhhh,” I said. “You’re killing me. Work with me here.” He sat back and closed his lips in a smile. I continued to pace in front of him, closing my eyes as I spoke, trying to remember how I’d planned this. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. Freaked out. So I sat down with myself and tried to figure out what was wrong with me. Why I had certain patterns in my life that were so self-destructive, and I realized... well...”
I opened my eyes. He was smiling. Kryptonite. I sat down on the platform at his feet. “It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know? People were always telling me how smart I was, how I was destined for great things, and I always thought, someday they’ll find out. They’ll find out I’m a fraud, and I’m worthless, and I’m...”
I was starting to choke up. I stood up again and paced. “It was stupid. I wasn’t making bad choices because I was worthless, I was making bad choices to show I was worthless, so I wouldn’t have to ever stand up and... I don’t know. Fall, I guess. But I did worse than fall. I deliberately fucked it all up, so very, very badly.”
I looked at him briefly, until my throat started to close, and looked away again. “In order to unravel all the crap I’d gotten myself into, I decided I’d have to do certain things... to make it up to myself. To clean the slate, you know? So I made up this list, and I thought if I followed it, changed who I was, then I’d be worthy of you.”
I stopped and stared at the floor. Walter was blurred through my tears, and a distant voice in the back of my head warned of raccoon eyes, but I kept going. “I did it all. Everything.”
I took a deep breath and wiped under my eyes. Black on my fingers. Stupid mascara. I went to the computer and grabbed a Kleenex and walked back toward Walter, still not looking at him. “And now that I’m all done, I finally understand.”
I stopped. Walter stood up. He put his hand on my arm and spoke quietly. “Understand what?”
“That it was all a load of crap,” I squeaked. God, I had no idea how hard this would be to say. “I was perfectly worthy of you to begin with, and if you didn’t see that, then you were a big, stupid doofus.”
His eyebrows knit, and he let out a small laugh and shook his head.
“Well, duh.” He put his forehead to mine and pulled my hands to his chest. “How could you not know that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. My voice was quivering, as were my lips, my entire body. I rested my forehead against his and got my balance. “But that’s why I called you here tonight. I thought I’d give you a second chance.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you did.”
I looked up at him, and he smiled down at me, his eyes glittering in the reflection of a thousand Christmas lights. He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly against mine.
“I’m going to explode if you don’t say it’s okay for me to kiss you soon,” he whispered, his cool breath fluttering into my mouth.
Unable to speak, I nodded and felt his hand come up around the back of my neck as he pressed his lips on mine, and we melted into each other, kisses coming in perfect rhythm with the boom-boom-booming of my heart.
We parted and stood there for a while, dancing slowly to the silence. He ran his hand over my hair, down my back, and rested it on my waist. I draped my arms around his shoulders and leaned my cheek against his chest and felt safe. Loved.
At home.
“I meant it,” he said softly.
“Hmmm?”
“That night,” he said, pulling me in tighter and resting his cheek on the top of my head. “When I said I loved you.”
I pulled away. “You remember that?”
“Hell, yeah, I remember,” he said, smoothing a stray strand of hair away from my face. “I’ve been beati
ng myself up over it every day since. It was a stupid thing to say, but I was falling asleep and I just wasn’t thinking.”
“How could you have meant that?” I asked. “You barely even knew me.”
He shook his head, a mystified smile on his lips. “I don’t know. I guess I knew enough. But it was too early. I don’t blame you for running off.”
I grinned. “Could you tell me again?”
“What? That I love you?”
I nodded. He put both hands on either side of my face and looked into my eyes. “God help me, but I love you, Wanda Lane.”
I smiled. “I like it. Lose the ‘God help me’ next time, though, okay?”
He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Deal.”
I stepped away and grabbed his hand. “We’re not done yet.” He laughed and pulled me back to him. “I was hoping not.” I scrambled from his grip and led him to the Santa throne, sitting him down again. “Stay right here.”
I set up the shot in the camera, grabbed the remote, and rushed over to him, sitting on his lap. I held his face in my hands and clicked the remote, which was followed by a flash from the camera.
“Shouldn’t we be looking at the camera?” he asked, not taking his eyes off mine.
“Oh, we’re not done,” I said, tossing the remote aside. “I set it up for ten pictures.”
He kissed me. The flash went off. We smiled for the camera, and it flashed. The flashes went on around us, capturing the moment as we posed and giggled like teenagers.
After a while, I led him back to the Christmas tree and handed him a carefully wrapped box. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Wanda, I didn’t think to bring your present...”
I shushed him and walked over to the computer, leaning over it and looking at our shots. He walked up behind me and put his hand on the small of my back. It fit perfectly.
We pored over the shots together, arguing playfully until we chose a favorite. It was one where we were sitting, smiling into each other’s eyes. I clicked print and turned to him, motioning toward the present.
“Open it.”
Time Off for Good Behavior Page 19
