Married to Krampus (My Holiday Tails)

by Marina Simcoe

  “There was no point.” He shrugged again. “You were coming here soon enough, anyway.”

  I bit my lip. Obviously, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about my hopes and dreams.

  “Listen.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to make sense of it all. “Why did you choose me? I’ve been told there were quite a few candidates.”

  “A lot,” he huffed, grumpily. “Thousands.”

  “Why me then?”

  He fiddled with some buttons on the control panel. It didn’t result in any visible changes to the course of our aircraft.

  “I liked your picture,” he said after a minute or two.

  “That’s it? Just the picture?”

  The instructions stated that the application photo had to be unaltered. I couldn’t add a pretty filter to it. That picture was all me, unembellished, save for some light makeup.

  I’d been called “pretty,” but realistically, there were a million better-looking women out there—taller, slimmer, with glowing skin. I simply couldn’t have been the most beautiful girl out of thousands.

  “What did you like about my picture?”

  “It was bright,” he explained.

  “Bright?”

  He nodded. “Your clothes reminded me of the women of Voran. And your hair matched your outfit.”

  I thought back to what I was wearing in that picture—a sunflower-print dress with a frilly skirt and a green headband. The dress made me feel happy, and I’d thought the hairband looked nice in my reddish hair. Apparently, the outfit turned out bright enough to attract the Colonel’s attention.

  “So, you’ve chosen your potential future life-partner based on nothing but her clothes and hair color?” I stared at him, flabbergasted. Even if he just wanted a nanny for his children, shouldn’t there have been a more complicated selection process? Either way, he was choosing a person to spend at least a year with, under the same roof?

  Talk about leaving it to chance.

  The Colonel must have seen my bewilderment.

  “How would you choose in my place?” He glanced at me with a flash of curiosity in his eyes.

  “Based on personality, of course,” I replied quickly. “I’d love to know the person’s likes and dislikes. There are special compatibility tests—”

  “Is that how marriages happen on Earth?” he interrupted. “By utilising tests?”

  “Well, not exactly. Though the dating apps and agencies use some kind of formula, I believe.”

  “And how does it work out for humans? How strong are your marriages?”

  “Well it works well for some couples, for most even. The divorce rate on Earth is somewhere between forty and fifty percent...”

  “What?” He huffed. “Your tests and formulas aren’t that great then, are they?”

  “What is the divorce rate in Voran?”

  He lifted a bushy eyebrow.

  “Only one in ten men in Voran gets a chance to have a wife,” he said slowly, staring at me intently. “One wife. One chance at marriage. Every husband would do anything to keep his wife. Absolutely anything. Divorce is so rare in our country, it’s practically non-existent.”

  I dreaded to clarify what exactly he meant by “would do anything.” It could be as in “giving her anything she desires to remain happy in marriage,” or “doing anything possible to physically keep his wife, including tying her up in the basement.”

  “What if...” I started carefully. “Sometimes things don’t work out between two people, you know.”

  “There is always a way to work things out,” he said, dismissing me confidently. His tone left zero chance for arguing. So, I didn’t.

  Instead, I stared ahead through the glass of the spacecraft again.

  “Listen,” he said after a while, betraying that he kept thinking about the topic of our conversation even after we’d fallen silent. “My time was limited,” he explained. “They gave me thousands of pictures of alien women to choose just one. Yours stood out. And that was it.”

  Chapter 3

  “THIS IS HOME.” THE Colonel tipped his beard at the cluster of glass domes and spheres on top of a skyscraper.

  “The entire thing?” I leaned closer to the glass of the aircraft for a better look.

  The building was so tall, I couldn’t see the street below as we hovered near its top. Glass bubbles covered its walls, as if they had been sprayed with foam. The bubbles were the glass-enclosed patios and balconies of various sizes.

  The Colonel watched me closely.

  “No. The building isn’t mine,” he said. “I occupy the top three floors only.”

  “Only?” I exhaled a laugh. “Your place must be the size of an amphitheatre.”

  The main dome alone seemed large enough to enclose a coliseum. Several others surrounded it, only slightly smaller than the first.

  “It’s...breathtaking.” I stared in awe at the glass glimmering under the late afternoon sun of Neron as the Colonel maneuvered the aircraft closer to the nearest dome.

  The glass slid open, letting the aircraft glide inside. It landed on a green platform covered with a neatly trimmed grass. The side panels of the aircraft lifted, and I climbed out. The kitten heels of my Mary Janes sank into the lush indoor lawn, so unusual to see under the paling light of the setting winter sun.

  “Is this real?” I turned to the Colonel who was walking around the aircraft to me.

  “The grass? Yes. It grows year round, just like the rest of the plants.” He gestured at the planters lining the walls and the hanging baskets dripping with garlands of flowers.

  “What a gorgeous patio.” I slowly turned around, taking in the luscious greenery generously sprinkled with the bright colors of flowers. “It would be so lovely to have tea here in the morning.”

  “You want to have breakfast in the garage?” The Colonel lifted an eyebrow at me.

  A garage?

  Of course. Where else would he park his vehicle?

  “Well, it’s the prettiest garage I’ve ever seen...” I mumbled.

  He kept making me feel like a complete idiot. How was I supposed to know that live grass and gorgeous flowers belong in a parking garage in Voran?

  “There is an actual breakfast patio on the other side of this floor.” The Colonel led me to a set of opaque glass doors that slid open as we approached. “In the morning, the view is better there than here.”

  I had no chance to reply. My breath caught in my throat from delight when we entered the next room.

  It was perfectly round with a checkered tile floor and a ceiling so high, I had to tilt my head all the way back to see the glass hemisphere of the skylight. Green and yellow plants grew everywhere. Vines hung from the ceiling, draped along the walls, and climbed up trellises. Some of them bloomed with large, vivid flowers, adding splashes of color. A fresh, sweet fragrance wafted through the air.

  “Oh, my goodness...” I exhaled in awe.

  Pressing my purse to my chest, I strolled around the room, admiring its beauty.

  “Do you like it?” The Colonel asked.

  His thick eyebrows drew into a frown, though I didn’t believe he was angry with me at the moment. He just didn’t seem to have many facial expressions, other than frowns of different depths. It was unbelievable that a grumpy man like him would live in a place resembling a paradise.

  I couldn’t care less about his moodiness, right now. This place was too beautiful to worry about such things. Spreading my arms out, the purse with the ornament clutched in my hand, I took a twirl.

  “Like it? I love it!” I couldn’t help a soft laugh. “This is gorgeous. A beautiful summer in the middle of winter.”

  I faced the Colonel, catching my breath.

  “You must be an amazing gardener,” I gushed, happy to have finally found something redeeming about this man.

  He folded his arms across his expansive chest.

  “Me? No, this is all Omni’s work.”

  “Omni?” I glanced around for someone with that nam
e.

  A whirring sound behind me made me spin around. An object rolled from the opposite door. It was a frame with a screen mounted on a tall stick attached to a short platform on wheels.

  “Greetings, Madam Kyradus,” a soothing mechanical voice sounded from the softly glowing screen. “Welcome to the household of the Colonel Grevar Velna Kyradus. I am the Artificial Intelligence housekeeping system or ‘the house AI’ for short. But you can call me Omni.”

  “Hi Omni.” I dipped my head in greeting, since the unit had no hands to shake. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  With no hands, I wondered how the robot could do anything around here at all, not to mention create and maintain this luscious indoor garden.

  “I trust your journey was enjoyable?” Omni continued. “We have received your luggage from the spaceport. I’ve taken the liberty of taking it up to your room and unpacking.”

  “Oh, really? Thank you...”

  “Would you like me to take this up as well?” The image of the purse in my hands appeared on the screen.

  I pressed the purse to my chest, unsure if I was ready to part with it yet, even for a little while.

  “Or would you like me to place it near your chair while you’re having dinner?”

  Insisting on holding onto the purse at this point would make me look like a toddler who refused to give up her favorite toy. The Colonel already seemed to have a less-than-stellar opinion about me.

  “No, it’s fine. You can take it.” I stretched the purse toward Omni, wondering how the screen could take anything anywhere.

  With a swish of air against my face, a small silver drone appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Could you hang the purse on the hook, please?” Omni instructed.

  I did as I’d been told, carefully hanging the purse on a chrome hook extending from the drone. It took off toward a winding staircase that circled the entire room spiraling upwards.

  “Carefully, please,” I begged, watching the purse with my grandma’s ornament fly away. “It’s fragile.” That was the reason why I didn’t leave it with the rest of my luggage, carrying it all the way here myself instead.

  “There is absolutely nothing to worry about,” Omni assured me. “All my units boast extreme precision of movements.

  “Is dinner ready?” the Colonel barked, holding a short wide glass in his hand. He had snagged a drink from somewhere.

  “Yes. Follow me to the dining room, please.” Omni rolled back to the glass doors he’d come from. The Colonel and I followed.

  “Do you drink alcohol?” the Colonel asked me on the way.

  I couldn’t tell by his tone whether he was simply enquiring before offering me a drink or was getting ready to judge my choices.

  Once again, I decided to go with the truth. “Yes, I do.”

  “Which drink do you prefer?” His tone was gruff as usual but didn’t appear judgmental.

  “Wine,” I said, and added, “If you have something like it on Neron?”

  We entered an oval space with a large, glass table in the middle. Just like the room before, this one had a tall clear dome for a ceiling. The entire space also burst with plants and colors everywhere. Even the ornate chandelier hanging over the table served as a lattice for climbing vines. Their red and orange flowers were nearly as bright as its lights.

  A drone flew my way with a tall glass of purple liquid clasped in one of its chrome pincers.

  “Tell me what you think about this one.” The Colonel gestured at the glass as I carefully took it from the drone. “It was gifted to me for a special occasion last year.”

  “Thank you.” I took a small sip and gasped as the purple liquid burned my tongue. The burn, however, was quickly soothed by a fresh, mildly sweet aftertaste. “It’s a little strong, I think...”

  My knowledge about wine was limited mostly to its color—red or white. I liked drinking it sometimes and didn’t need to know much about it to enjoy it.

  I glanced up at the Colonel, who watched me intently with unreadable expression.

  “It’s lovely,” I added, just in case.

  He nodded, setting his drink down to pull the chair from the table for me. His gallant gesture came as a surprise. Until now, the Colonel hadn’t done as much as opening a door for me. But then again, the doors had opened on their own everywhere around here.

  “Thank you.” I sat down.

  A cart rolled in from yet another door to the side as the Colonel took his seat across from me, on the other end of the table. Two drones placed two trays in front of us. They looked like chess boards; small amounts of different foods filled the square indentations.

  No matter how nervous the Colonel made me feel, I was starving.

  “This looks so good.” I ventured another burning sip of wine then lifted a narrow utensil from the table. “Have the children eaten already?”

  I wondered where the twins could be, hoping to meet them sooner rather than later. Besides, the presence of children always helped me relax in most awkward of situations.

  “The children?” He glanced up at me from his plate.

  “Yes. The boys.” I popped a small cluster of yellow balls in my mouth. They melted on my tongue with a creamy taste of butter and cheese. “What are their names? I couldn’t find that anywhere on the information provided to me.”

  “My sons’ names are Olvar Shula Kyradus and Zun Shula Kyradus,” he said with obvious pride.

  “Olvar and Zun? Those are beautiful names.”

  “I chose them.” He tossed a piece of food from his plate into his mouth, bypassing the use of the utensil. “Olvar means ‘fierce’ in Voranian, and Zun stands for ‘the victorious one.’ I hope they will grow into men who do those names justice.”

  “I hope they do...” With the hook-like utensil, I fished out a round piece of something else from my plate and took a tentative bite. It had the crisp texture of a watermelon with a tart, savoury taste. “Where are the boys now?”

  “In school.”

  It seemed to be a little too late in the day for five-year-olds to still be in school. But then, this wasn’t Earth. I had to expect things to be different.

  I tried a small cube from another square indentation. This one turned out to be a piece of cured meat.

  “When will they come home?” I asked as soon as I chewed and swallowed the meat.

  The Colonel was polishing his food off the tray rather quickly.

  “In about three years and four months,” he said.

  The utensil dropped out of my hand, clinking against the tray on its way down to the table.

  “Three years?” I gaped at him, hoping I’d heard him wrong.

  “Yes. They are at the Military Academy. The term for full-time studies there is nine years,” he explained calmly.

  “Military Academy for five-year-olds?” I tried to keep judgment out of my voice. After all, I was on a different planet in a different culture...

  It proved too hard, though, to force a neutral expression. I was certain the shock I felt was now splattered all over my face.

  “Yes,” the Colonel confirmed. “A military focused education has been selected as the most suitable direction for my children.”

  “Selected by whom?”

  “Myself, with the assistance of aptitude testing conducted by The Ministry of Children’s Education and Wellbeing.”

  “How do you determine aptitude in a five-year-old?” I left the utensil where it lay, no longer feeling that hungry.

  He stared at me.

  “Why a five-year-old? My sons have been at the Academy from birth.”

  My eyebrows must have shot up to my hairline as I stared at him in astonishment. All my thoughts came to a complete stop for a moment.

  “How could you possibly teach military tactics to a newborn? I assume that’s what’s taught at the Military Academy?”

  “Right,” he confirmed. “Military tactics are a part of the curriculum. Of course, the lessons don’t start unt
il later. Newborns don’t sit in classes.”

  “Well, that’s good. Since, you know, sitting would be difficult for someone who can’t even hold up his own head.”

  He peered at me for a moment, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind my tone. There had definitely been a hefty dose of sarcasm in my voice. My resolve to be open-minded and accepting of the other culture had been proving increasingly difficult to maintain the more he spoke.

  “Have your children ever been here, in their family home?”

  “On a few occasions,” he replied flatly, his expression guarded.

  “So, you don’t get to see them, at all, then?” I pressed on.

  He shifted in his seat, leaning all the way back.

  “I see them once or twice a month,” he said slowly, “but I track their academic progress daily. I also check their health reports every morning.”

  “Well, tracking their blood pressure and progress in math doesn’t exactly substitute for actually seeing them, does it?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me then suddenly shoved his plate aside with force.

  “Are you criticizing the way I’m raising my children?”

  The fading glimmer of the sunset, aided by the soft light from the chandelier, made his red eyes appear to glow against the dark gray of his face. I sensed his displeasure hanging in the air, thick and smothering like a wool blanket. It was terrifying.

  I sucked in a breath. My problem was that I could never keep my mouth shut even when it was obviously to my benefit. My tongue often ran faster than my thoughts.

  “Not really,” I retorted. “I can’t criticize how you’re raising your children because you’re not exactly the one raising them, are you? From birth, they’ve been spending their days with someone else. What does ‘having a father’ even mean to them?”

  “That’s enough!” He slammed his hand on the table, making me and the dishes jump. “You’ve been in Voran for less than a day, and you’re telling me how to run my household?”

  Too late, I realized I’d gone too far.

  “I’m sorry. It came out wrong,” I mumbled, scrunching my skirt in my hands. “I definitely wasn’t trying to sound disrespectful.”