Happily Ever Christmas

~Three~

I passed out drunk on the couch soon after that and my kids woke me up by jumping on me at the very crack of dawn. And this started one of the worst days of my life.

Having to pretend that everything was alright for the kids when inside I was dying - not to mention hungover - was too much for anyone to have to do. But this was me, I was doing it.

And on top of everything else, I had clearly been driven into a nervous breakdown last night when I had drunkenly hallucinated that the Santa Claus from my childhood had shown up, and then I had kissed him!

I refused to accept it as anything other than an inebriated mental break.

I just couldn't deal with sexy Santa Claus being real on top of everything else today.

Peter soon lamented the loss of his phone and I said nothing.

He then discovered that the garbage disposal was backing up the sink and making a terrible grinding noise when turned on. There was no luck getting a plumber on Christmas and Peter was sent into full crisis mode over this, and he ended up doing everything around the house that I normally would have. I was in no state to help him at all today.

My kids distracted me effectively, however, particularly when they found presents from Santa that I did not remember wrapping for them. And I had wrapped all of the presents.

Peter didn't remember buying the gifts, either, though he was too frazzled to focus fully on the subject when I asked him.

"No, Mommy, look. See? It clearly says it's from Santa!" Olivia teased me, showing me the scrap of ripped paper with the name tag on it.

I took it from her and stared at it, and suddenly I felt transported back to my childhood in one fell swoop.

There was a snowflake stamped in silver on the top of the tab and when I lifted it, it was to find the same scrawling handwriting as before.

To: Olivia

From: Santa

I felt like I was losing my mind. Except my kids could see it, too.

I even showed it to Peter just to make certain that even adults could see it. He gave me a look like I was stupid, the bastard, and I stumbled back to the living room.

I was stupid, I supposed, sitting on the couch, still with no pants on, I might add. I was stupid for turning into my mom and choosing some boring rich guy who eventually cheated on me, after I had given him everything. And I was stupid for not believing in Santa Claus, apparently.

My daughter had gotten a gold embossed version of "The Velveteen Rabbit", something she had definitely been wanting, I knew, but I hadn't found it in the bookstore and I confess I had lost track of it in the hubbub of the holidays. Not everything on my list got crossed off; I wasn't Santa Claus, after all.

For my four-year-old son, Santa had delivered the mega LEGO battle station that Bradley had been raving about for the past month. His father, the cheating bastard, had been supposed to pick it up; it had been something I had put on his list for him so that he could be the hero of the day for Bradley, and somehow Peter had forgotten to get it. Maybe because he'd been too busy sneaking off with Mandy.

But there was no point in dwelling on that now.

Santa had saved Christmas, as it turned out, for my kids at least. As for my marriage, I don't think God Himself could save us now.

                                                                                     *~*~*~*

I pulled Peter away momentarily because I couldn't take another moment of pretending.

"Emberly, are you alright?" Peter asked me, and he seemed more impatient than he was concerned. "You smell like Robert Downy Jr. and you're not wearing any pants, is all. Were you up last night drinking, seriously?! That's why you can't help me in the kitchen today? This is just so typical, Em. Lately you have been so-"

"No!" I snarled softly, moving in on him with death in my eyes. I saw the moment when he truly saw me and he recoiled in fear. "You do not get to judge me or criticize me anymore. I know, okay? I know about Mandy, I know about the affair."

It didn't hurt as much as I expected to say it.

Maybe because I was so hungover.

I saw Peter pale beneath his mop of brown hair. His pupils dilated in his ordinary blue eyes.

I had never despised anyone so much, I realized as I stared at him.

"Emberly...is that why my phone is missing?! Oh my God, did you-did you shove it down the dish drain?!"

I had just confronted him on his infidelity to our marriage and that was the first thing he said to me.

I just about lost it then and there and simply bashed him over the head to death with my big brass gnome bookend, but I showed restraint.

Lucky for him, it was Christmas and our children were waiting for us downstairs.

"Oh no!" I held up a finger sharply, a truly wild look in my green eyes, if I did say so myself. "You don't get to fucking speak to me anymore unless you are talking to me about something important or about our children."

I took a menacing step closer to him, glaring up into his scared blue eyes.

Peter was not particularly intimidating in stature; he was only a few inches taller than me and only about 20lbs. heavier.

To think, I had chosen him because I had once foolishly believed that he was a good, stable guy who would never ever hurt me. I had dated my fair share of lying, cheating scumbags when I'd been in school, but then I'd met Peter and he turned my life around. I'd made all the right choices, or so I had thought.

What a sham.

"Now," I whispered harshly, "we are going to go downstairs and get through this day for our children's sakes. We will smile and be polite, but if you so much as touch me I will take your finger off with the carving knife and pretend it was an accident, and when this day is over, we are getting a divorce!"

"Em..."

"Do we understand each other, Peter?"

He gazed into my eyes, his weak chin trembling, well, weakly, I suppose. "Emberly, please, I can't lose you!"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about that before you put Mandy in your phone."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hope everyone has a very merry Christmastime, except Peter 'cause he sucks!

HRH