Kit (A Little Christmas Season Three)

Chapter 5

5

Kit

I hugged my floppy dog hard as I walked into the playroom. I meant what I’d said to Santa. I would treasure this toy. It was perfect. Exactly the sort of stuffy I loved.

How did Santa know?

I laughed at myself. It was a great coincidence. He wasn’t the real Santa. Just somebody who played a part very well. And who had remembered me.

Immediately, Miles, a little I sometimes did puzzles with, came up to me.

“Did you see Santa yet?” He wore very little. A shirt with a glitter rainbow and a Huggie. He had a cute lisp when he spoke like a baby.

“Yep.”

“He’s nice. I love his soft beard and coat.”

“Me, too.”

“That’s a pretty doggie,” Miles said, reaching out to pet my stuffy’s head.

“Thank you.”

“Where’d you get him?”

“He was a gift.” I puffed out my chest. “A Christmas gift.”

His eyes glowed. “From an admiring daddy?”

I didn’t want to brag that it was special from Santa, so I just nodded. No one else had a dog like him that I’d seen. It made me almost dizzy to think about.

“Lucky you.”

“I guess.”

“Wanna do a puzzle?”

“Okay, Miles.” I looked around. “Are you here alone?”

“Nope. Daddy George is over there.” He pointed. “He’s wonderful. I’ve been with him two weeks. I hope he keeps me.”

“Congratulations.”

He smiled, then took my hand and led me to the puzzle table.

Miles and I started to play.

After a while, he said, “You keep putting pieces in the wrong places.”

“Sorry.”

I couldn’t concentrate. I kept looking at the kitty clock on the wall. It had a long black tail that went back and forth like a pendulum counting the seconds.

I kept wondering when Santa might leave. Maybe I could go get in line one more time and see him again.

Finally, Miles put his elbows on the table and his chin in his upturned palms, staring at me.

“What are you dreaming about tonight, Kit?”

“What?”

“You’re definitely off in dreamland. Is it past your bedtime?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“You should go to bed.”

“Yeah.”

“You need a daddy to tell you when your bedtime is and tuck you in real good and give you sweet, all-over kisses.”

“Don’t we all.”

Just then, another little I didn’t recognize scampered by, plucked up my stuffed dog and ran away.

“Hey!”

The pajama-clad boy ran to a corner, hugged the dog hard and stuck his thumb in his mouth, daring me to approach.

I walked up to him, hands on my hips. “Give that back to me.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head.

“It’s mine,” I insisted.

He turned away from me, facing the wall.

I leaned forward, scowling. “You better give it back!”

No response.

“I mean it. Give it back!” My hands formed into fists.

“Nooo.” He made a little screech. “Don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t if you give me my dog back.”

“My doggie now!”

“It’s not yours!” I yelled.

“Help! Help!” He let out a baby wail. Loud.

All the daddies on the couches turned our way. One jumped up and ran toward us. “Nicky, baby, is this boy giving you trouble?”

“He’s trying to hurt me.”

I stood tall. “He stole my stuffy.”

“Nicky, did you take his toy?”

“Stuffies in this room are for everybody.” Nicky pouted.

“It wasn’t?—”

“Kit?” The daddy interrupted me. “Is that you? Aren’t you done beating up boys in the playroom? Haven’t you learned your lesson? I could report you. After what you did before, you’d be banned forever.”

“But I?—”

“You’d better leave now. Shame on you for intimidating Nicky. He’s a very sensitive boy. And unlike you, he doesn’t get into fights.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Don’t lie. You cornered him and, ah, look, now he’s crying.” The daddy picked up his boy who wrapped his body around him, my floppy dog squished in the middle. “Shame on you, Kit.”

Tears prickled my eyes. “It’s my dog.”

The daddy frowned menacingly. “I can’t believe you’re still arguing about this. It’s time for you to go home.” He turned away, hugging his little, then mumbled. “It’s no wonder you can’t find a permanent daddy.”

Over the daddy’s shoulder, Nicky, with his fake tear-streaked cheeks, smirked at me.

I couldn’t believe it. My special gift from Santa was now gone. I had no one to go to to fight for me. No one to turn to for comfort.

I stood where I was for a few stunned seconds. Another daddy nearby said, “You need to leave, Kit.”

I glanced about the room. I’d done nothing. But more daddies joined in.

“Yeah. Kit, go on home, now.”

“Cool off for the night and we won’t report you.”

I moved to the middle of the room, passing by Miles.

“Great, Miles. Thanks for helping me out.” I made a face at him.

“What? I didn’t do anything.” He scrunched up his face. “Daddy!”

A man jumped up. Daddy George. Before he could come over and give me one more scolding, I muttered to Nicky, “Exactly. You didn’t do anything.”

I stomped to the door, opened it, then turned. “Fuck you all.”

I slammed the door behind me. Hot tears welled in my eyes. The guys standing around in the hall all turned to stare at me.

“Hey, little boy,” one of them said. “Need some comfort?”

He wasn’t being mean. Just concerned. But I was mad, and I ignored him, stomping past the kink rooms and upstairs toward the bar. Everything looked blurry and unfriendly. But one thing stood out. A blurry red blob on the stage by the dance floor. Santa.

I hurried forward to the glittery Christmas pathway that led through the crowd. There was a small line in front of me. It was late. Almost one a.m. Online it had said Santa would be at the party until one.

I hoped I’d have time to see him. If only the line would move faster.

I blinked, clearing my eyes, watching as Santa dealt with every visitor who wanted to sit in his lap and have a photo. Some laughingly tried to pull his beard. Others went into lewd poses when the photos were taken. Something for everyone.

Finally, it was my turn. I had my eye on the clock over the bar. Five minutes to one. I stepped up to the stage and approached.

“Kit. You’re back.” Santa sounded surprised.

“I—I just wanted to see you again.”

He chuckled like he always did, a lovely sound. “I’m flattered.”

“I know this is my second time, but can I sit in your lap again?” I asked.

“My lap is your domain,” he cryptically replied.

As I climbed up, his hands went to my waist to help lift me into place. I leaned against his pillow belly and put my cheek against that silken beard. For this moment, I was home. It was a perfect fit. I closed my eyes against the still present sting of tears.

“Sweetie, why are you shaking?”

I spoke into his chest. “I’m mad.”

“Why?”

“Just—not a fun night.”

“Where’s your doggy, Kit?”

“Nicky has it.”

“Nicky? Did you give your toy away?”

I shook my head, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth and safety that was this man beneath the suit. Only he could help me. Only he cared. I needed to know who he was.

“Who are you?” I’d already asked, and he’d refused to answer. Maybe this time would be different.

“I’m Santa.” Voice low, soft.

“I have a Christmas wish, Santa.”

“What?”

“That I could sit here all night with you.”