by Aron Lewes
The cold weather doesn't effect me, but the snowflakes are still annoying, especially when they cling to my eyelashes. Sighing, I brush away the burdensome flakes.
“The mall is... a possibility,” Taishi says. “For now, let's just wander around and hope we get lucky.”
“You're just hoping a suitable Santa Claus will suddenly appear in our path?”
“Yes, Riley-san. It could happen.”
With his hands in his pockets, Taishi looks cold. I know he's not, but the heavy snow puts the thought in my head, and I can't get it out of my mind. His black hair is dusted by flakes, his arms are slick from snowfall, and his boots are crunching through thick, icy slush. He looks like he should be freezing.
“Taishi...” He doesn't say anything, so I tug his sleeve to get his attention. “Do you think you could manifest a coat or something? It kills me to see you in that t-shirt.”
His answer is predictably short. “There's no need.”
“Yeah... I know. But it would make me feel better.” He's not acknowledging anything I say, so it's time to take matters into my own hands. I manifest another peacoat—a larger one—and toss it over his shoulders. “There! Now you have a coat.”
I half expect him to toss it back to me, but he doesn't. He thrusts his arms through the sleeves and mumbles, “There... happy?”
“Almost.” I manifest a fuzzy red scarf and wrap it around his neck. “There. That's better.”
Taishi studies the scarf with a sneer on his nose. “Well, if nothing else, you're certainly getting better at manifesting clothes.”
“I know, right? Ooo! Do you want a hat too?”
“No, Riley-san. I don't want a--”
Taishi's protest comes too late. I'm already shoving a black knit cap onto his head.
“Are you done?” There's a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Or are you going to manifest some mittens as well?”
“Do you want some mittens?”
His answer stuns me. “Sure. You're on a roll, so why not?”
I manifest some red mittens, thinking they'll match his scarf. Then I manifest a pair of candy canes and offer one to Taishi.
“I knew you'd get the hang of it eventually,” Taishi says. “You seem to be an expert manifestor now. I'm proud of you, Riley-san.”
“Awww! Really?” I don't think I've ever been more proud to be on the receiving end of praise. And I should be proud. After all, Taishi doesn't hand out praise too readily. “That's really nice of you, Taishi. I feel like you and I are getting along better now... don't you think so?”
Taishi suddenly seizes my arm. “Look!” he exclaims, sounding unusually animated. “It's a Santa Claus!”
Sure enough, there's a middle-aged Santa stumbling toward us. His beard is hanging off his chin, which is kind of funny. His stomach looks lopsided, so it's safe to assume his belly won't shake like a bowl full of jelly. Still, at this point, we can't be picky.
When the sidewalk Santa raises a bottle of vodka to his lips, disappointment crashes into my stomach. “Oh no,” I groan. “I think it's a drunk Santa...”
My fears are confirmed when Santa starts singing Silent Night at the top of his lungs. When he forgets the lyrics, he switches to Jingle Bells.
“Of course.” Taishi heaves a sigh. “He just had to be drunk, didn't he?”
The sidewalk looks slick, but Taishi and I are not effected by it. Santa, however, isn't so lucky. He loses his footing and falls face-first into a snowbank.
“Oh no...” I whimper. “Should we help him?”
“No.” Taishi coldly shakes his head. “It's not our job.”
Santa rolls on his back with a frustrated grunt. A few seconds later, he brings the vodka to his lips. The bottle misses his mouth and splatters on his fuzzy red suit.
“This... isn't acceptable,” Taishi decides. “We need to keep looking.”
“Yeah. You're right,” I agree. We sidestep drunk Santa and continue our search.
After ten minutes of fruitless searching, I whine, “This is awful! I really don't think we're going to find a suitable Santa on the night before Christmas.”
“Don't give up hope, Leigh.” Taishi's red scarf is lashed by wind as he charges forward. “I'm not giving up hope until we've officially failed.”
“If we do fail, my new rating will be a five out of ten. Is five out of ten a bad score?”
“Well... it's not a good score.”
Great. And Taishi's score will probably slip to 9.85, and it'll be my fault. I'm pretty sure I drag him down. He seems less focused when I'm around.
Or maybe I'll be the one who leads us to victory? When I catch a glimpse of a red suit on the other side of the street, I yell, “I think I see one?”
Taishi tries to follow my gaze. “What? A Santa?”
“Yes, a Santa!” I grab Taishi's new scarf and drag him across the street with me. Fortunately, I'm not wrong. There's a Santa sitting alone in a diner, and I spotted him through the window.
“Well done, Riley-san. You have a good eye.”
Taishi's really spoiling me with all of this praise. Maybe he's finally warming up to me a bit?
We enter the diner and hurry over to our Santa's table, where we find him eating pancakes. Pancakes? I think it's a little weird to eat pancakes at night, but to each his own, I guess.
This Santa looks a little more age appropriate. He's probably in his sixties, and his beard looks real. He's a little skinnier than the average Santa Claus, but it doesn't bother me too much. He doesn't look particularly jolly, but at least he's got a friendly face.
Taishi holds up his LightTab and scans our Santa's face. Apparently, Home has a database of human faces.
I can't believe I'm already calling that place Home. Everyone else does, so I guess it's rubbing off on me.
When the LightTab beeps, I lean over to check the screen.
Name: Miles Shelton
Age: 61
Occupation: Mall Santa/Self-Employed
Primary Spirit Guide: Lola Smith
Next, Taishi summons Lola. I think he's trying to figure out if our Santa's a safe bet. Taishi strikes me as a worrier—which isn't a bad thing. His overcautious nature is probably why he's got a 9.86.
He even checks Lola's profile to make sure her opinion is reliable.
Name: Lola Smith
Last Mortal Age: 47
Occupation: None
Current Rating: 7.2/10
“Seven point two isn't bad,” I comment as we await the arrival of Lola.
By the time Lola drops in, Miles is down to a single pancake. He's using it to sop up the excess syrup on his plate.
Lola is a pretty red-haired woman who has even more freckles than Jophiel. She warps into the diner, wrapped in a pillar of light.
“You wanted to speak to me, Taishi Nakamura?” Lola asks him and completely ignores me. I guess she thinks he's the competent one. But who am I kidding, right? Taishi is the competent one.
“Indeed. I wanted to ask about your charge, Miles Shelton.” He points at Miles, who is in the middle of taking his last bite. When I realize he has a bit of syrup in his beard, a tiny giggle slips out of my mouth. “How would you describe Miles' character? Is he a good man?”
“Of course. He's a wonderful man,” Lola claims. “He's one of the best human charges I've ever been assigned to, and his wife was an idiot for leaving him.”
Taishi's eyebrow is raised by her shared information. “His wife left him?”
“Yes. Two months ago, Carmen Shelton left after twenty-one years of marriage,” Lola reports. “She was cheating on him with his best friend and business partner.”
Ouch. That had to hurt. Poor Miles!
Taishi's still asking questions. “There is nothing about his character that would make you mistrust him? Nothing at all?”
“No. Nothing. Miles is a wonderful man,” Lola reiterates. “Is there anything else you wish to know?”
“No. That'll be all.”
As soon as Tais
hi dismisses her, a glowing Lola shoots into the sky. No matter how many times I see it happen, it never gets old.
“Well...” Taishi's voice is monotone as he turns in Miles' direction, “I think we've found our Santa.”
“Right,” I agree. “He seems like a good choice.”
“There's only one problem, though. And it's a big one.” Taishi's jaw tightens as he studies our Santa's gentle face. “We need to get him to the hospital.”
“If we're going to complete this mission, we'll need to split up again,” Taishi tells me. He slowly uncurls his fingers, revealing the micro thoughtshare in the palm of his hand. “So... you'll need to wear this.”
“Nooo!” I whine, perhaps a bit over-dramatically. “Not that thing again!”
“I need to keep you updated, and this really is the best way to keep in contact.” As he slips the tiny device into my ear, I can feel myself glaring at him.
“Why isn't there a heavenly equivalent of a cell phone? I don't like to share every thought in my head! It's weird!”
As soon as Taishi's thoughtshare is in, he telepathically replies, “then you need to stop thinking weird thoughts, Riley-san.”
I reply with my mind: Ugh. You're in my head already. I hate you.
Something reminiscent of a smile lightly raises the corners of his mouth. It's not a full-on smile, but it's close. Taishi's smiles are rare, so if he ever looks remotely happy, it's surprising.
“I only smile when I have a good reason to,” Taishi replies in my mind. He's still standing in front of me—less than three feet away, in fact. If he wanted to, he could talk to me. He's just doing this to torture me. “Anyway, here's what I need you to do. I need you to warp to Ruth and keep an eye on her.”
But I don't know how to warp. Has he forgotten that?
“I'm going to teach you right now, Riley-san. First, you need to clear your mind.”
“Can I clear you out of my mind?” This time, I reply with actual words. I keep hoping he'll do the same, but he doesn't. It's so weird to hear his voice in my head.
“Clear your mind,” Taishi repeats, “close your eyes, and try to visualize yourself somewhere else. See the scenery change, and imagine you're standing at Ruth's side.”
I follow Taishi's instructions to the best of my ability. Since it took me forever to grasp the manifestation process, I just assume it's not going to work—but when I open my eyes, I'm in front of the hospital, staring at the back of Ruth's head.
“Well done, Leigh,” Taishi remotely praises me. “My first warp wasn't nearly as smooth as that.”
Aww. That's probably the nicest compliment he's ever given to me.
“I give praise when you earn it,” Taishi continues, “Now... to keep you updated, I'm currently following our Santa, Miles Shelton, down a busy sidewalk. Believe it or not, he's heading in the appropriate direction. Where is Ruth?”
My mind shares the information. She's sitting on a bench in front of the hospital. And she's crying, too. I wish I could comfort her. Having a sick son on Christmas Eve would be the most devastating thing in the world.
“Keep her outside,” Taishi commands me—then he accidentally shares a thought I wasn't supposed to hear. “I don't like scarves. This one's itchy. I'm trashing it as soon as this mission's over.”
I snicker to myself as I share a thought. Aww, but the scarf makes you look so handsome!
Once again, Taishi's reply is heard in my head. “Be careful, Riley-san. If you keep listening to my private thoughts, I'll start thinking them in Japanese.”
Can he do that? He better not do that. That would be totally unfair!
A ridiculous amount of snowflakes have gathered on my coat, so I take a moment to brush them off. For the next few minutes, Taishi goes silent, and I'm not surprised. He's good at keeping his mind blank. I wish I could do that.
After a long wait, I finally hear his voice again. “Miles will be passing in front of the hospital in less than a minute. Get ready, Leigh. It'll be your job to get her to notice him.”
Great. Now the pressure is on.
“HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS!” I suddenly scream at her. “HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS. AND HE'S COMING DOWN SANTA CLAUS LANE, RUTH, SO YOU NEED TO PAY ATTENTION!”
I can hear Taishi chuckling in my head. Aww. Did I actually make him laugh? I think that's a first.
A few seconds later, I catch my first glimpse of Miles' bright red Santa suit. With a gasp, I lightly nudge Ruth's shoulder.
“Ruth!” I yell. “Ruth, look up! Your son wanted to meet Santa Claus, remember? It's really, really important to him! So you need to look up right now, okay? Santa Claus is literally heading your way!”
Oh my god, it works. When Ruth dries her tears and lifts her head, Miles is right in front of her.
“Go talk to him!” I encourage her. “It would mean a lot to Isaiah, okay?” When she rises from the bench, I squeal. In fact, my squeal is so loud, I can see Taishi wincing in the distance.
Ruth almost slips on a patch of ice as she hurries over to our chosen Santa. “Excuse me!” she calls out to him. “Excuse me... can I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course,” Miles replies. He really does look like the perfect Santa Claus. He's even got round, red cheeks that I always thought Santa would have.
“This is going to sound crazy, but my son's dying soon. He's a patient in Bayridge Children's Hospital.” Ruth thrusts a thumb at the big building behind her.
Santa's smile falls as he whispers his condolences. “I'm really sorry to hear that.”
Pinching the tears from her eyes, Ruth continues, “Anyway, I think it would mean a lot to him if Santa visited him Christmas Eve,” she says. “I know it's a lot to ask... and I'd be willing to pay you, I just--”
“I'll do it,” Miles commits before she finishes. “And you don't have to pay me. What's your name?”
“Ruth.”
“What's your son's name?” Miles asks.
“Isaiah.”
“Well, Ruth...” Miles—who looks a bit taller than the average Santa—smiles down at her. “Why don't we pick out a toy for Isaiah? I don't think Santa should show up empty-handed.”
* * *
It seems like we're well on our way to a successful mission—until we reach Isaiah's hospital room. When we get there, he's flatlining, and the doctors are trying to revive him.
“Oh no!” I cry out as the defibrillator delivers a jolt to his chest. “No no no!” I feel helpless as I watch. I look over at Taishi, hoping he can do something to intervene. “What do we do?”
“I'm not letting this happen! Not yet!” Taishi nearly knocks aside a doctor as he rushes into the hospital room. When he reaches Isaiah's bedside, my panicked instructor lays a hand on Isaiah's forehead.
Seeing Taishi's grimace, I have to ask, “What are you doing? What's happening?”
“Don't... distract me... Riley-san,” Taishi can barely get the words out. His face looks so pained, I swear I feel a little pinch in my chest. It's like my body wants to share his discomfort.
When Taishi starts gasping, I feel like crying. Taishi's in agony and Isaiah's almost gone. This is awful.
“We're failing this...” I whisper to myself. “We're going to fail.”
All of a sudden, Isaiah's monitor beeps again, and I expel my held breath. As Taishi staggers away from the bed, he looks beyond exhausted.
“What did you do?” I ask.
Taishi drags a hand along his face, which is dotted in sweat and creased with pain. “Several of his organs were failing at once. I poured every ounce of my strength into his body to give him more time.” Before I can ask any questions, Taishi quickly adds, “It's an advanced technique.”
“A technique I won't be learning for awhile, right?” When he nods, I accept his answer with a shrug. “How much more time does Isaiah have?”
“Not much, I'm afraid.” Taishi's so tired, he stumbles to a nearby chair and crashes into the seat.
“Are you in a lo
t of pain?”
“Quite a bit, yes. But it's slowly subsiding.” Taishi rips off his knit cap and tosses it aside. “If I have to perform that trick again, I don't think I could. Not tonight.”
“What if you were an angel? Could you do it again?”
Taishi scowls at me. I guess I must've said something offensive. “No, Riley-san,” he stiffly replies. “Even angels have their limits. The only difference is... an angel might have given Isaiah more time.”
“How many missions do you have to get through before you get to that level?” I ask. “You know... the level where you can pause death and fix someone's dementia?”
“Hundreds. Thousands, maybe.” Taishi suddenly tears off his scarf. “You won't be learning it after five missions, that's for sure. You'll probably pick up the skill from another spirit, many many missions from now.”
I want to ask more questions, but I'm distracted by the arrival of Ruth, who hurries into the hospital room with panic in her eyes. The doctors must have told her about Isaiah's brush with death. When I see Miles Shelton trailing behind her, my face is beaming with pride.
“He made it,” I whisper to Taishi. “Isaiah's going to meet Santa.” When will I ever learn that whispering isn't necessary?
“Baby,” Ruth greets her son with a sniffle. Even though I'm standing on the opposite side of the room, I can see her glistening cheeks. She's crying again. “Baby, are you okay?”
Isaiah's so weak, he can only whisper a single word. “Mom?”
“Honey, look who I brought!” Ruth motions for Santa to approach the bed. “It's Santa Claus, honey! You wanted to meet him, remember?”
Tearful Miles puts on the performance of his life. “Ho ho ho!” He holds onto his belly as he swaggers forward. “I heard there was a good little boy in this hospital, and I just had to see you! Is your name Isaiah?”
Isaiah barely nods.
“Because you were such a good boy for your mom, I brought you something really special!” Our Santa reaches into a black bag and pulls out a tall, red robot. “Ho ho ho! What do you think? Do you like him?”
As Santa puts the robot next to him, Isaiah nods again. Beside him, Ruth is sobbing.
“Is there anything else Santa can get for you, Isaiah?” Miles asks. Santa's eyes are wet and sparkling, not unlike mine. I'm pretty sure he's holding back tears. “Is there anything else you want for Christmas?”
