Christmas With Kris Kringle

Chapter 8

You know the butterflies that flutter in your stomach the night before your first day of school or right before an important business meeting? That was my insides right now, a ball of anxious nerves mixed with excitement rolling around the walls of my belly. I couldn’t wait to see Belen and was plotting out opportunities that would allow me to kiss her again. When I got to the mall, she wasn’t there. Chloe informed me she wouldn’t be in until later that morning.

Hopefully everything was okay and her concussion hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. After the spill she took yesterday, I wouldn’t blame her if she took a sick day to recover. I silently cursed myself, why didn’t I get her number? With that I could at least check in on her, and then there was the bonus of hearing her voice. Whipping out my phone, I did the next best thing, ordering a simple assortment of lilies to be delivered to her apartment.

Our relationship had been flirty before last night, but it was now clear Belen was feeling me as much as I was feeling her. She’d even felt comfortable enough to share about the loss of her father. When we first met, I remember her mentioning Christmas’s past being a letdown. After losing someone during the most festive time of the year, I’d probably hate Christmas too. I tried my best to offer words of consolation and hoped they helped in some small way.

The morning dragged, a faceless sea of children begging for toys that their parents couldn’t afford. This was what I meant when I talked about the commercialization of Christmas. It was all about who could amass the most items under the tree. When I was little, all it took was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure and a fresh box of crayons, and I was the happiest kid on the planet.

Maybe I was just old and out of touch, but shouldn’t it still be about the little things? Hanging out with your cousins running around the house while the grown-ups gossiped and drank. A random auntie yelling at you because you were getting underfoot. Now on Christmas, kids opened up their new gaming systems and disappeared into their rooms for hours.

After the eighth kid asked for the latest smartphone that from the looks on their parents’ faces they weren’t getting, I was over it. All my friends thought I had a few screws loose when I told them I wanted to work as a mall Santa. With the sale of Wordbop, taking a micro retirement just made sense. Granted clocking in and getting dressed in the big red suit each day wasn’t exactly a break.

I’d just worked so hard for years to get where I was. I wasn’t the greatest when it came to work life balance. For me it was all or nothing. But I was starting to watch life pass me by. Living in the moment was damn near impossible for me because I was always focused on my next move. So after a health scare, due to an irregular heartbeat, I decided to slow down. I’d hired people I trusted for moments like this. What’s the point of having wealth and not taking advantage of the opportunity to reset? I was fortunate enough to generate passive streams of income whether I chose to stay in bed all day or get up and grind. It was a rare blessing I didn’t take for granted.

I used my micro retirement to do the things I’d always wanted and yes, dressing up as Santa Claus was on my bucket list. St. Nick was so beloved. I remember how excited I was for my annual visit to see Santa. My mother loved Christmas and she passed that excitement on to her kids. I always had a letter prepared for Santa, Mrs. Claus, and Rudolph. Christmas was magical, and in a weird way gave me a sense of motivation. If an old fat White man could deliver toys to children all over the world before the sun came up, then I in turn could do or be anything as well.

The morning shifted into afternoon and I got my first Belen sighting of the day. When she walked past the Christmas wonderland, I was tempted to dump the kid sitting on my lap to the ground and approach her. She looked amazing in a bright orange sweater and fuchsia leather skirt. Her bouncy, shiny black curls tumbled over her shoulders. She did not look like a woman who’d just been on the receiving end of a deer the size of a linebacker the day before.

Belen was walking with a short older man, pointing out items around the perimeter of the workshop attraction. I did my best to focus on the camera and the elf who was shaking jingling bells to get the toddler’s attention. Plastering a big smile on my face, I kept my head stone straight, but my eyes were sliding to the far corners of their sockets as Belen passed.

I released a hearty “Ho, ho ho,” in hopes Belen would stop and wave, smile, or acknowledge in any type of way that I existed, but she never slowed moving further out of sight. The next kid in line was all smiles, with neat braids adorned by colorful beads attached to the ends that made a clicking sound whenever she swiveled her head.

“Hello Mr. Claus.”

“Hello,” I found myself laughing at her formal salutation. “You can call me Santa.”

“Nope, my momma told me never to call an adult by their first name. She says it’s rude.”

“Fair enough, your mother is right about that. So tell me what you want for Christmas, Aaliyah?” Her face lit up with surprise that I knew her name. It was the elves’ job to get the names of the children in line, and they would whisper it to me before each one approached. Just another way to make the experience more immersive and magical.

It was unbelievable the lengths we went to in order to keep the mystique of St. Nicolas alive. All so kids would buy into the idea that a man with disposable income and an altruistic desire was running an ethical and safe toy-building workshop employing thousands of elves. A shop that pumped out billions of toys and electronics for kids all over the world.

All this while covertly monitoring the good and bad deeds of the planet’s population and then rewarding people based on favorable behavior. Which was already a slippery slope because who made Santa the judge of moral character, and was Santa’s implicit bias causing some kids to get Barbie Dreamhouses while others received lumps of coal? I guess we’d never know.

Aaliyah pulled out a list and ran through each item. She even threw in a new television for her father to watch football on. When she was done she folded the paper, handing it to me. “You can keep it for when you get back to the North Pole.”

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you,” I said, stuffing the paper in my suit jacket.

After taking our picture, the little girl jumped down from my lap. “See you later. Don’t forget our house on Christmas Eve. There will be cookies and milk. We live at 552—” Her mother yanked her arm, pulling the girl away.

Ernesto, the singing elf, whispered, “Up next is Amir.”

“Could we take a break after this one? I’m getting a leg cramp.”

With a twenty-minute break secured, I went in search of Belen. It’s good to have a friend in security, Tyler and his surveillance cameras located Belen at the water fountain at the east end of the mall, which was desolate and abandoned. Pavilion Grand was in the middle of expansion construction, adding a movie theater, a second food court, and an indoor rock-climbing feature.

Belen was sitting on the fountain’s ledge picking blueberries out of a muffin.

“Don’t jump,” I called. It was a stupid joke, but I needed an opening.

“No jumping for me. I’ve had enough adventure to last me for this week.”

“How are you feeling?” I took a seat beside her.

“Right as rain.”

I had to agree she did look better. “Good, glad to hear.”

“Thank you for the flowers. They were a nice surprise.” Belen looked at me with expectant eyes.

“Flowers always seem to cheer the women in my life up.”

“Glad to be added to the long list of women you send flowers to.”

“I only send flowers to my mother and cleaning lady.”

“Cleaning lady?”

“Yeah, Gladys is a nice older lady and sometimes she brings me a home cooked meals.”

“And you show your thanks with flowers?”

“She works really hard cleaning up after my lazy ass, so it’s a small expression of my appreciation.”

Belen examined my features in silence for a long while. Her eyes were like a high beam looking for defects. “You’re a nice guy, Kris.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do. You made sure I got home safe. And you were so sweet to my sister.”

“I was just trying to be helpful.” I shrugged off her words. “Plus, your sister is a sweetheart.”

“She enjoyed meeting you. I try to limit the number of men who cross my threshold.”

“Why is that?”

“Because Celeste gets attached to people quickly. And I don’t need her heart being broken when that person stops coming around.”

“Makes sense that you’d want to protect her.”

“Yeah, it’s my role as the big sister to look out for her. And her situation makes that all the more important.”

“How old is Celeste?”

“She’s thirty.” Belen’s response was interwoven with an unspoken current of emotion.

“Down syndrome?”

“Yes.”

“While she and I were cooking, she was very talkative. She told me about her job at a coffee shop. Sounds like she really enjoys it.”

“She loves it there. And the regulars are so friendly and sweet to her. I’ll admit I was a bit apprehensive about her working outside of the learning center she attends. But looks like the joke was on me. She’s only been working there for a few months and she’s thriving.”

“I think that at our core we are all the same. We all want connection and a sense of purpose. And it sounds like this job provides Celeste with both.”

“Do you want the blueberries?” She pointed to the assorted berries she’d removed from her muffin.

“If you don’t like blueberries why get a blueberry muffin?”

“Because I hate blueberries, but I love blueberry muffins.”

I nicked a berry from the napkin. “You know that makes absolutely no sense, right?”

“It just tastes better, okay.”

I looked around to make sure we were alone. There was the distant sound of an electric drill and knocking from a hammer, but not a soul in sight. “So … we kissed last night,” I whispered.

“Mmmh, we did.” She pulled off the top of her muffin, taking a bite.

“Why do you think we did that?”

“I don’t know. Do we need a reason?”

“Yeah.” I angled my body so that I could get a better look at her. “For me it’s because you’re pretty, and you smell good, and I enjoy talking to you.” I paused, hoping she would tell me she thought I was handsome and funny and a good kisser and that she wanted to see what else I was good at.

“We kissed because there was all this manly testosterone just dripping off of you. You know, taking charge, making sure I was okay, cooking with my sister. I bet if we were in caveman times you could spear a woolly mammoth, providing for the village for months.”

That was a very specific analogy, but I could rock with it. “And that turns you on?”

“Yes, the whole hunter gatherer thing is a real panty dropper.” She winked.

Even though I was outfitted in a plush Santa suit, a chill overtook me. “I was in the Boy Scouts, got all the badges.”

“So you know how to start a fire?”

“Just call me Billy Joel.”

Belen’s face took on a weird expression. I don’t know if she was amused or turned off by the realization that I was a bit of a nerd.

“He had that song years ago—” I tried to explain.

“Yeah, I know. I love Billy Joel.”

My face lit up at her words, leaning in, I allowed myself to fanguy over the great Mr. Joel. “He’s really good right?”

“Yeah, I mean he’s the piano man.”

“Exactly, exactly that. His catalog is deep.”

“Favorite Billy Joel’s song, we’ll both say it on three.” She counted down on her fingers. “One, two, three. ‘Don’t Ask Me Why.’”

“‘The Longest Time.’” I yelled out my song choice in unison with hers.

“Okay, you’re wrong, but thanks for playing,” she teased.

“I also know how to tie knots, all kinds of knots.” I felt the need to outline all of my positive attributes like I was in a job interview.

Belen frowned. “I don’t know if that is going to be useful. Who are you tying up? Me?”

I pulled my face. Shit, she thought I was some type of sexual deviant. “No. No, I would never tie you up. Unless … you wanted me to.” Because real talk, Belen being tied to my bedpost and watching her squirm while I pleasured her was my idea of a good time.

She released a shuttery breath. “Ask me out on a date,” she politely ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

The reason I didn’t work a traditional job was because I didn’t like being told what to do. But this woman could boss me around any day.

“Dinner, my place, tomorrow night.” Do you know how hard it is to be sexy in a Santa suit?

“Okay.” Grabbing a pen from her purse, she tattooed her number on the back of my hand.

Standing, I smoothed down my ridiculous red pants. “I’ll text you the address.” I went to walk away but stopped short, turning on my heels. “And bring an overnight bag.” Did I wait for her to respond … no. I hightailed it out of there, hoping I hadn’t done too much.

Belen

While heading in to work, I promised myself I wouldn’t bring up the kiss unless Kris did. Partly because I was certain the kissing was just a delicious hallucination, and I didn’t want to make things awkward between us. But when Kris mentioned it, I figured I was in the clear to speak freely.

Normally I wasn’t this candid, but the Christmas season was counting down and if I was going to get a chance to deck the halls with Kris, I needed to gently nudge us toward that inevitability. Plus Kris was safe. His stint in my life would be temporary since the Santa gig ended after December twenty-fourth. We had good conversations which I was hoping would lead to explosive sexual chemistry. I would even take chemistry that was more of a flicker than a fire so long as I could feel the weight of a warm body pressed against mine.

In the administrative offices, Chloe clocked my goofy grin the minute I exited the elevator. “What’s with the smile?”

“What do you mean?” I immediately tried to mute my expression.

“You stepped off that elevator like Santa gave you your gift early.”

Surveying the lobby to ensure it was empty, I dropped my voice and said, “Kris asked me on a date.” I didn’t add the part about me practically goading him to do so.

“Well thank God the mistletoe worked for someone.”

“It’s just a date.”

“It’s always just a date until it turns into something more. My parents have been married for thirty-four years. And do you know how that happened?”

“How?”

“With a first date.”

Back in my office, I gave into the possibility. Chloe was right, eventually one of these first dates would be my last because it would be with my forever person. It was doubtful Kris would be the one to change my status from perpetually dating to taken. I got the sense he wasn’t comfortable staying in one place for long with all the running with the bulls and jumping off cliffs. But a winter fling … was that a thing? Whatever you called it, winter fling, holiday ho down, or a Christmas canoodle, I was here for it.

And he’d asked me to pack an overnight bag. If he thought I was the type of woman who would sleep with him on the first date, he was absolutely right. I mean we were both grown, and life was too short to play hard to get. It was mere weeks until Christmas. If we were going to do this thing, I wanted a chance to enjoy it before we both moved on. Kris seemed like the type of lover who would require several fucks to get out of my system. So I planned to make him and his tongue my bitch.

I could be very persuasive when I had to be, but I got the sense Kris wouldn’t need much arm twisting. A ribbon of excitement rippled in my stomach. Just a few weeks ago, the possibility of sex with someone else wasn’t even on the table. And now I had options. Note to self, make sure Kris fucks you on a sturdy table. My mind was racing as I made a mental list of the cute outfits and undergarments I needed to pack.

A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts. Standing outside my office was Aiden.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.” Occasionally my equilibrium was off and I’d popped more than the recommended daily dosage of ibuprofen.

Venturing into my office, he said, “I know what will fix you right up, dinner at Spoon and Stable. I can get us reservations for Saturday.”

“I can’t. I’ve already got plans.”

“What are you and Celeste going to give each other mani-pedis and watch Girlfriend reruns?” I didn’t realize until well after our relationship ended that this man genuinely hated me. He thought I was silly, that my hobbies were frivolous, and that he was so much smarter and funnier than I was. Aiden never hyped me up but was eager to receive my praise of him, which I gave freely because I thought we were on the same page. But now I know he tolerated me because of what I could do for him, because I looked good on his arm, and the only time he’d brag about me or my accomplishments was when he was trying to make himself look better.

“No, actually I have a date.” I don’t know why I shared that extra detail. But there was still a part of me that wanted him to know men found me desirable and what he wouldn’t do, another brother most certainly could. And if that brother was Kris, I would happily let him do any and everything his heart desired.

“Wow.” He stretched his face into an incredulous smirk.

“You broke up with me, remember?”

“It hasn’t even been a year.”

“Our relationship wasn’t even cold and you were posting pictures kissing another woman on New Year’s Eve.”

“That didn’t count. I was nursing a broken heart.”

“Do you ever get tired of blowing smoke up my ass? The only reason you want me back is because you can’t have me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I need you to be so fucking for real right now. We are not a good fit. We never were.”

Aiden walked around my desk. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me to my feet. “Look, I know I fucked up. Believe me, I regret breaking up with you. I guess I was just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of how much I love you.”

“Aiden—” I tossed a glance at my open office door. The last thing I wanted was for the soap opera that was our relationship playing out for all our coworkers to hear.

“Let me speak. I’ve been trying to tell you this for months now. I love you, Belen. And I could see myself marrying you.”

These are the words almost anyone would rejoice to hear. And I’d be lying if the word marriage didn’t spark excitement inside me. I wanted the stupid, outdated, only in fairytales type of love. The only problem was I didn’t want it with Aiden. I was the sort of woman who was all in until I wasn’t. After the initial shock of our breakup, I realized that Aiden wasn’t the only one pretending. I settled because I thought I was running out of options. Which was dumb, I was thirty-three and I was no longer falling for the idea that women couldn’t be choosy when it came to love.

Why did men always think a no would eventually lead to a yes?

“Aiden, while I appreciate your newfound epiphany. I’ve also had time to think and my vision for the future doesn’t include you.” I was never this forthcoming. Maybe it was a holdover from the head trauma, but I was feeling the need to speak my mind today.

Aiden nodded his head stoically, but I could tell he didn’t like my response. “You loved me once. I’m not willing to take no as an answer.”

“And you took that love for granted. So when it comes to you, no is the only answer I have to give.”

Chloe walked by and my eyes begged her to rescue me. And like an expert wingwoman she complied. “Belen, just wanted to remind you about the meeting with the balloon vendor in five minutes.”

Without missing a beat, I elaborated on the lie. “Yes of course the meeting with the guy from …” My brain fog made it difficult to come up with a vendor name.

“Balloons and Thangs,” Chloe offered. If Aiden didn’t know we were lying before, he probably did now.

“That’s it Balloons and Thangs. How could I forget?” I stared at Aiden, waiting for him to get the message and leave. “I really need to get ready for my meeting.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” When he finally left my office, my shoulders eased away from my ears.

“What was that all about?” Chloe hissed. She never liked Aiden and if I’d listened to her, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“The last-ditch efforts of a dying man.”

“Are you okay?”

“Oddly enough, I’ve never felt better.”