Love Your Elf

by Helen Allan

  ‘But which one? Maybe it’s time to follow my heart, not my head – the latter has been my guide my whole life. It’s monumentally difficult to switch off a lifetime of ambition, of slogging uphill in one direction, only to bobsled down another mountain entirely. But was I going up, or down? Is climbing to the top of the corporate ladder more important than scaling the heights of love?’

  ‘Love?’

  ‘Fuck – I’m in love.’

  I clear my throat.

  “I’m thinking of staying,” I turn to look at the girl, giving her a brief smile, “if Holly returns and wants me to, that is.”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” she snorts.

  “I don’t know?” I murmur.

  But I do know that I’m anything but sure about her feelings for me, despite what had happened between us. She liked to please people.

  ‘Perhaps she was just giving me what she thought I wanted? Her comments about not being Tracy Upshot,’ I shake my head, ‘how strange. I’d heard what she said to Sapphire in the shop, as I’d disengaged myself for the last time from the delectable Ms Upshot and given her round little ass a goodbye pat – Holly had called me a babe magnet; said I was out of her league. How could she think that? But that night, before I bedded her, she’d almost voiced that same sentiment. And yet it was she who was out of my league if truth be told. And she could fuck with so much passion, Jesus, looking into those eyes was like falling into a canyon of emotion.’

  I realise, now, right now, as I’ve just admitted to myself that I’d fallen in love with the human woman, that she’s a woman currently being comforted in a city far from here, by a man she had loved for two years.

  15

  HOLLY

  I sit beside Mum, near the fireplace, and take her hands, shaking my head when I see she’s wearing a little elf hat.

  “Where did you get that?” I laugh.

  “Sapphire gave it to me,” she smiles. “My head was getting cold, she said she had just the thing.”

  “Mmmm,” I laugh, “still playing pranks. I’ll find you a warm beanie, I know someone who is coming for that hat shortly, someone no doubt looking everywhere for it right now.”

  As I say this, Kris walks in and saunters towards where we sit. Just watching the way he walks sets my mind spinning in horny directions. I’ve always found him lovely to watch, but now that I know what he’s like in bed, my God, it’s like I can’t think of anything else.

  ‘Christ, that man can move.’

  He smiles as he approaches, as though he knows what I’m thinking, and I blush. It’s no wonder he knows where to find me. Since Mum and Dad returned two days ago, me in tow, she has stayed by the fire, her shaven head increasingly cold, no matter how well we heat the house. But the colour is gradually returning to her face.

  I’m not sure if it has returned to mine, apart from when he is nearby. When I got home he’d returned to my bed, and I’d sought solace and comfort in his embrace. We’d had quite a few discussions as we lay wrapped in each other’s arms, but we made love more than we talked. I don’t know what he thinks about me silencing him constantly with my lips, but for me, it has a twofold purpose, one: I love kissing him, and two: I don’t want to discuss him leaving.

  I also don’t want to discuss what happened with Louis in the city, or how the operation went. I don’t want to face reality of any kind in the lead up to Christmas. I just want to pretend everything is wonderful because my sister is right about one thing; after all the stress, the ups and downs, and the pressure I’d faced these past months, mentally, I’m just hanging in there.

  It helped that I wasn’t in the store now. Kris has been working with Dad each day, stocktaking ready for the take-over by the new owner. My parents have been too diplomatic to ask any questions about the relationship, although Stacey has been vocal in her disapproval. Sapphire, though, had taken his inclusion in the family home as a given.

  “How are you feeling, Mrs Goode?” he asks now, as he reaches us.

  “Much better, thank you, Kris,” she smiles up at him, a victim of his charm and good looks, no less than I. “And please, call me, Margaret.”

  “May I?” he offers her another hat, a beautiful white faux ermine, as a trade for his own.

  “Oh, that is lovely,” she croons.

  “Merry Christmas,” he smiles, swapping hats. As he does so, his fingers brush her head, and his eyes glow with merriment. “You are healed,” he says softly, “your remission will hold.”

  “Kris,” I shake my head at him, suddenly angry.

  “Well Christmas came early for me then, if your prediction comes true,” my mother laughs softly. “Holly, honey, can you get my paints and brushes, please, I might try my hand at a watercolour this afternoon.”

  “Sure.”

  Frowning, I beckon the elf to follow me from the room, and round on him when we are out of earshot.

  “What is it?” he frowns.

  “Kris, you can’t say things like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like she’s cured. It’s cruel. We don’t know how long this cancer will stay in abeyance, or even if they got all of it – the doctor could give no guarantees.”

  “I can,” he shrugs.

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” he says quietly, “my magic has returned. I know, Holly.”

  “Your magic has returned?”

  ‘You’re leaving – and my Mum is cured.’

  I stand staring at him, my shoulders tense, as my hands begin to shake, and my knees begin to tremble.

  He catches me right before I faint.

  Pietrasanta?” he murmurs, “yes, I’ve heard of it.”

  “Well, that’s where,” I mumble, my voice still sleepy.

  “You will be far from your parents,” he says quietly.

  “If Mum is cured, and Stacey and Sapphire are moving in, it’s time for me to leave,” I yawn, “and studying sculpture with a master is a dream of mine.”

  “Then I hope it comes true,” he kisses me gently on the forehead. “You need to look after yourself now – if your fainting is anything to go by, your nerves are shot. You seem to do everything for everybody, yet you never demand anything for yourself, or offer your feelings about their actions – holding back is probably what’s making you ill. You should go somewhere far away, where no one can place demands on you, and you can truly be yourself. Although, Tuscany… you know, it snows more there in winter than here.”

  “I thought you would love snow,” I smile now, waking a little more, “being a North Pole elf and all.”

  ‘Oh, please say you’ll come with me. Don’t leave, don’t leave.’

  “I like snow,” he nods. “We can only ever visit the human world for a month or so before Christmas, so we never get to see the Summer – unless we travel to the southern hemisphere, which is lovely, but I do prefer the northern, for some reason.”

  “The chicks,” I nod, catching his eye.

  “Definitely,” he smirks, “the chicks.”

  “But?” I frown, “are you serious? You can’t be in the human world any other time of the year?”

  “My job and my magic ties me, binds me if you like, to Santa’s workshops and realm until the Christmas season,” he shrugs, “but the elf who becomes Santa, he has even less freedom.”

  “Less freedom?” I frown, “who would want that?”

  “I would,” he says suddenly serious, “at least, I did. I’ve worked my whole life towards that goal.”

  “Wait,” I sit up, eyes wide, “you want to be Santa?”

  “Of course,” he nods.

  “You can be Santa?”

  “Santa is,” he shakes his head, trying to find the words, “like the human president. It’s a position, a job, a responsibility - and power.”

  “So, he’s voted in?”

  “Not really,” he shakes his head, “it’s a lifeti
me position, but Santa can retire when he sees fit, and the board will appoint a new elf to the position. It’s very much like the first family; Santa and his wife and children live in luxury and have the respect and deference shown that the position entails. He makes the decisions for the realm and oversees the factories that produce gifts for the world’s children.”

  “I always thought Santa was just, well, Santa; kind of immortal,” I raise my eyebrows. “Or at the very least, that it was a hereditary title, passed down from old Santa to his son and so forth.”

  “It was, and in some instances can be that,” he nods, “again, like the first family, the name carries some weight. But this Santa, the one we’ve had for the past sixty years, has no son. He is, however, a distant cousin of a previous Santa, and has the same surname as a very famous Santa.”

  “You know,” I run my hand up and down his hard, muscular chest, “you never said why he fired you.”

  “Ah,” he smiles, “believe it or not, I was favoured to take on the job. I’ve worked hard from the ground up, which is what the position requires. I’m well-liked, come from a respected family, and my magic is powerful. I expected this year that old Santa would retire, and I’d be offered the job.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes, it’s what I’ve always dreamt of, but Santa found out I was sleeping with his daughter.”

  “Oh.”

  “And my reputation, it seems, preceded me, as far as the ladies go,” he smirks. “He overreacted, and I was thrown out of the realm.”

  “Soooo,” I say quietly, my heart hammering, “you’re are a bit of a playboy, back home?”

  “Something like that,” he shrugs, “but that would have changed. I would have taken the position seriously – I was prepared to make sacrifices in order to facilitate that.”

  “I see,” I murmur, my mind whirling over the ramifications of what he has told me.

  “And so, you can only be here for a short amount of time or what? You die?”

  “No,” he laughs, “I lose my magic.”

  “lose it,” I repeat. “But your magic is coming back now? You said so, you said that’s how you knew Mum was healed.”

  “It’s Christmas,” he says quietly, “a magical time of year, and a time for decisions for the future. Now, if you have enough questions answered, I’d like to get some sleep.”

  “Questions,” I roll my eyes, “buddy, I’ve only just begun.”

  “Then let me start, by answering this one first,” he grins, “the left one, the left one is definitely my favourite.”

  “You are such a perve,” I laugh, as his lips move from my breast to my mouth.

  16

  HOLLY

  It’s Christmas eve, and I’ve woken to find the bed beside me empty and cold.

  Yawning, and following the sound of low voices down to the lounge room, I see Kris standing with none other than, I have to assume, Santa.

  And close by his other side stands possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, dressed in a skin-tight, red jumpsuit, with a white racing stripe down the side of her long, long legs. Her platinum hair reaches almost down to her model-tight ass, and in a sweep of my eyes, I see her red lipstick all over Kris’ cheek and lips. I notice even in the dim light emitted by the flashing multi-coloured fairy lights of the tree, that her eyes are light blue, the blue of Arctic ice catching the sun. They are so unusually pretty that, at first, I don’t notice the rest of her face which, when I do, can only be described as perfection.

  She looks me up and down as I step down the stairs, and presses even closer to Kris.

  “Is this the human woman?” Santa frowns, pointing to me.

  Kris looks up and smiles, but I can see the worry in his eyes. “Yes,” he nods.

  “Son, I understand, you were at a loss, bereft of your kind and companionship, but now is not the time for human dalliances, not now. All is forgiven, Aurora has explained everything.”

  “You don’t understand,” Kris starts.

  “I’m saying,” Santa interrupts, “that I overreacted when I walked in on you two, Kris, I thought you were just up to your usual tom-catting with my little girl. My daughter tells me you and she are in love. I misread the situation,” Santa goes on, “I’m sorry you had to spend this past month or more down here. You’ve done your penance, but I will make it up to you. Come back, marry, take up the job.”

  “Wait, what?” I frown, reaching the bottom of the stairs and spinning to Kris.

  “No,” he shakes his head.

  I open my mouth to ask him what the hell is going on when the blonde interrupts by pulling his face down and kissing him.

  I feel bile rise in my throat as I watch him gently disengage himself.

  “I missed you, so, darling,” she croons, still standing so close to him that they look like two otherworldly bookends.

  Meeting his eyes, I process Santa’s words.

  “You were in a relationship all this time?” I ask quietly, my throat beginning to thicken as I feel tears building, “you were planning to marry?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” the blonde quips.

  “Aurora please,” Kris murmurs, shaking his head, “we need to talk. Holly,” he frowns at me, “I told you I was prepared to make some sacrifices, however since….”

  “Aurora?” I interrupt, “Oh, that’s just perfect,” rage begins to replace my sorrow, “and I assume you are an elf?” I pin her with my gaze.

  ‘How could she be anything else? Are all elves beautiful?’

  “Of course,” she shrugs.

  ‘He’s going to marry her?’

  I remember one of the very first things Kris had told me when he introduced himself as an elf.

  ‘Elves can’t lie.’

  “And this new role Santa mentioned?” I whisper.

  “He’s to be Santa, of course,” elf Barbie rolls her eyes, “and I will be Mrs Santa.”

  “Santa?” I whisper, turning to Kris wide-eyed “you got the job?”

  “Yes, he did,” Santa booms, laughing, “and now we are all caught up, we need to go. Your handover starts tonight, son.”

  Kris doesn’t move. “Things have changed,” he shakes his head.

  “Nothing has changed,” Aurora pouts.

  “That’s right,” Santa nods his head, “we can put all this behind us now, the board is in agreement - you are ready to take on the role.”

  “No,” he says, frowning as he sees my tears welling, his own eyes full of sorrow.

  “You should go,” I choke, looking quickly away from him, “you have your girlfriend,” or is it, fiancé? “and the job you’ve always dreamt of – and you will keep your magic – you heard Santa, you’ve done your penance.”

  “Holly,” he shakes his head.

  “I said go,” I sob, turning for the stairs.

  He reaches out for my arm, but I pull it furiously from his grip.

  “And don’t bother delivering presents here next year,” I spit, my anger and anguish bursting from my lips, “you can take this as me not holding back what I feel for once, me telling you exactly what I think - I never want to see you again.”

  I hear his breath catch in his throat as he releases my arm, and I pound up the stairs.

  17

  KRIS

  I stare out the window of my condo, at the white realm surrounding me, her photo in my fist, and growl.

  A year is a long time, a fucking long time, to be without the one you love, and yet, it’s only been a night, and I’m already climbing the walls. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this time in my world before I can go back to the human realm - and I know I only have myself to blame.

  I should have told her what I was thinking, I should have told her I loved her, I should have told her….but I didn’t.

  And why?

  Because she wouldn’t discuss what went on with Louis, no matter how I prompted her.

  I
uncrumple the cardboard-framed picture of her looking so delectable and embarrassed in her elf suit, a present from Sapphire, and shake my head.

  “Pride,” I mutter out loud, “it was my own stupid pride, and jealousy, and my fear that she didn’t want me. No woman has ever made me question that before, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

  ‘And of course, there was that conversation with her sister. When she’d told me how wonderful Louis was at looking after Holly, how much her parents loved him. When she told me that Holly had invited him for Christmas dinner, and intimated that her sister was too kind-hearted to ask me to leave or let me know. And I’d waited for her to tell me, even as I booked her Christmas present and, against my better judgement, checked and confirmed his flight had landed. I waited - and she said nothing.’

  The sprites nod their heads and continue practising their backstroke in the bowl of M&M’s on the table. Only half had come back to the pole with me, the others had simply refused. Some said I would be back anyhow, some wanted to stay with Sapphire after I’d explained her future was still uncertain and set to be full of angst.

  They’d grown to like the kid as much as I had.

  But it’s not the child dominating my thoughts now, as I work on plans to wrap up my business interests in the pole, soothe my family’s concerns, and dodge Aurora’s calls; it’s Holly - and my idiocy. I should have known she would see it as cheating that I hadn’t told her about Aurora. The shock on her face when Aurora kissed me, declared we were going to be married, it said it all.

  ‘Even though that decision had yet to be made.’

  “Lies!” I grunt, “you can’t lie, even to yourself.”

  I bury my face in my hands.

  ‘True, I hadn’t popped the question, but it was a given. And yes, I’d been screwing Aurora for about six months, on and off, and yes, I knew she was waiting for me – Holly was right to be angry.’