A Flame From The Past

35: Santa and Mrs. Clause

"You're really going to wrap all of these?" Luca asked as I surveyed the damage I had bought. Thanksgiving was trickling close, trickling wasn't even the right word. It was coming at the speed of a car moving a million miles per hour, I woke up and panicked, went to sleep and panicked. It was the middle of November, smack dab in the middle.

And still I barely had any presents, Luca was just surprised by how many gifts this was, but he hadn't organized four consecutive Christmases, birthdays for thirty plus kids at some times. He was new to the scene and therefore he had to sort out each kid's arriving presents to be able to even comprehend that at this moment each kid got one thing.

"No. Santa comes and delivers them", I said and he looked so confused, I had hoped he wasn't one of those kids. Who still didn't know Santa was their parents?

"Principal Edwards every year, he dresses up as Santa and on the day of the Christmas sleepover at the school, he delivers them. I have thirty humongous bags to fit them all in and we spend the rest of the day opening one by one", I explained as he looked distant, looking away from all of the gifts that looked like millions to him.

"I never had Santa growing up", he looked at me, with this look on his face of Christmas nostalgia. He never had Santa. Santa. Santa. He looked somber, like a tear could fall down his cheek and he would just wipe it away.

I latched myself onto him, hugging him tightly.

"How could you not have Santa?" I asked, looking into his eyes as I sat on his lap. Even I had Santa, and I was the kid whose parents were mindlessly absent there. Up until my mother gave herself over to her job, I had Santa, up until the age of seven. And then my father took over. He would online shop for my gifts, they would come in the mail and I would wrap the cardboard boxes myself. I knew Santa wasn't real, but I still appreciated the gifts. I still loved them.

I mean I understood how he couldn't have Santa. I knew so many kids that had come into the program that didn't have Santa. I wished I hadn't asked him like that. He had spoken of his parents briefly, but he had spoken at a distance, like they had hurt him so irreparably that there was no point in speaking of them in a personal manner.

"My parents were... they weren't really there... that's why I don't really talk about them. We didn't get Christmas, that's why I wanted to donate, I had never really had a good Christmas, but these kids could have Santa, and Christmas". His pain riddled inside his eyes, growing each time he spoke, the intensity of his pain shot through me. As I wrapped my arms around him, embracing him in a hug like no other. He hadn't shared much about his parents, but when he did it was like he was giving me a part of himself, slowly telling me.

"These kids will get a good Christmas because of you, I'm sorry about your parents", I said, lightly brushing my lips against his forehead, lightly kissing him so he knew I was there as he spoke.

I wanted to express my love for him, shout it from the rooftop, here he was the most lovely, kindest person I knew, everything about him made me love him more.

"This year we'll have a good Christmas, I promise", I said, kissing his cheek lightly. As he pulled me off the ground with him.

"Just think about it, matching pajamas, hot cocoa, gifts, Christmas tree lights, too bad we don't have a house, we could decorate our lawn and put those reindeer in the front, we can make Christmas cookies, and Christmas pancakes, and you and I will be together", I pressed my forehead to his, as a slight smile creased on his face. He hugged me tightly.

"That part sounds really nice", he said, kissing my lips softly.

"Which part?" I asked, teasingly, dragging him to the bed as the presents crowded the ground. He smiled, leaning over me as I pried an answer from him.