George Clark perched on the narrow wooden bench in the department store employee men’s locker room. He pulled on his black boots, not the fake ones most of the Santa’s for hire tried to pass off. He rubbed the spots on his knees where countless seated kids had worn the velvet off his trousers. He needed a new outfit but unless the tip jar filled up every day for the next two weeks, he wasn’t going to be able to afford it. The landlord was already all over him for the overdue rent.

George wanted, needed, a drink but the kids could smell alcohol at ten feet and became reluctant to approach. That was bad for the tip jar. He pulled a St. John’s Wort pill out of the bottle in his locker and swallowed it dry. That would take the edge off.

It took a moment to pull on his red velvet jacket with the white rabbit fur trim, bought in better days. With his reflection in the mirror, he combed his ear length white hair, smoothed his eyebrows and combed his white beard. The hat was last. He moved the white ball at the tip of the hat over his left ear. Satisfied, he glanced at his watch – show time.

A female store employee, dressed in red and green felt elf attire, met him in the back hallway. “Ready, George?”

He’d asked them to call him Santa when he was in costume but he didn’t have the energy to correct her. As they reached the concourse, he heard the loud speaker.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, thank you for shopping at Big Store! Santa has arrived. Let’s give him a big round of applause.”

George slapped on a happy face and waved to the crowd, already fifty deep in line, as he jogged to the throne store management had set up in a garish modern Santa Land. All florescent red, silver, and hot pink, it gave George a headache. The place looked like a bottle of pink stomach meds gone nuclear.

He just settled in when an elf escorted a girl, about eight years-old, to his knee. “Would you like to sit in my lap for your picture?”

She eyed him with suspicion.

He sighed. Cynicism and mistrust hit the kids earlier and earlier.

“No.”

“OK. Just turn and look at the camera. We’ll get a nice picture for your Mom and Dad.” He’d been told that was mandatory. The store was making $10 every picture. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder as she turned and pasted a fake smile on her face. She whirled around to glare as he touched her.

“Don’t touch me.” Her eyes blazed.

“My apologies, Miss.” He put his hands in his lap. George knew what was wrong. Someone was molesting the girl. His heart broke a little more. When the picture taking was over he asked her what she’d like for Christmas.

“I want a computer pad, a smart phone, an on-line game, and a whole book series on an HD e-book reader.”

He gulped. Brand names and everything. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She eyed him again. “I know you’re not Santa. There is no Santa.” She turned and marched off of the platform to her mother at the exit.

It was the same with every child. At every bruise, flinch, or stutter his heart broke a little more. Every request was for name brand goods. He could tell which were the most heavily advertized even though he didn’t have a TV.

After dinner a little girl climbed into his lap. Once the picture was taken, she asked him how his day had been.

It took a second to process the question. “I’ve see a lot of boys and girls today.” He looked into her brown eyes, she was serious.

“You must be tired. I get tired when I have to talk to a lot of people.”

She can’t be more than nine. Where’d she get this? But all he could see was honest concern. “True, but I like talking to children. How about you? Has your day been good?”

“It has.” She pointed to the Santa Land exit. “My Grandma lives far away so we’re spending the day together.” The girl waved at her grandmother. Santa waved too and Grandma took a picture.

Santa grinned. Oops, there goes a sale for the store. “What’s your name?”

“Mindy.”

“What are you hoping for this Christmas, Mindy?”

Her eyes grew bigger. “My grandma doesn’t feel good. Can you bring her some medicine?”

Santa stalled. “Medicine is kind of out of my line of work.”

Mindy nodded. “Yeah. You do toys but I thought you might be able to help.”

“What else can I do?” He felt bad but he couldn’t give her a better answer.

“My mom needs a job. She just lost hers.”

He thought fast. “That’s too bad. I’ll ask around and see what I can do.”

That generated a smile. “That would be great.”

“What about you? Don’t you want anything?”

“Not really.” Her face grew thoughtful. “A puppy might be nice.”

How refreshing. No long list of overpriced electronic gear. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Mindy beamed at him. “Thanks, Santa.” She gave him a hug.

“Don’t forget to tell your Grandma about the puppy,” he advised when she slid from his knee. “She’ll have to get dog things.”

“OK.” She waved and dashed off to her waiting grandmother.

He could see the girl telling her grandmother something, pointing at him repeatedly. It took a moment but he realized he felt better than he had in a long time. Santa made a mental note to check the photographer’s list and find Mindy’s address. Maybe the store could find a spot for the mother.

An elf brought up a little boy. Santa didn’t even mind when the first words out of the boy’s mouth were, “I want… .”

 

The End