Love In Twenty And Five

DAY EIGHT

Mike stared at the red, fluffy man in the mirror, with white beards and a set of glasses that sat on his nose. He had no idea what endeared people to this old hag with a really bad taste in fashion, but whatever! He might as well get on with it because the news of Santa being in the building had spread faster than wild fire, and today, he had a few more rooms to visit.

He turned from the mirror and walked out of the men's room of the hospital, still trying to get used to the extra weight of the costume. The boots were uncomfortable, and the red sack he had to carry was filled with nothing but junk, but at least it was better than scrubbing floors and taking out the trash.

He pushed a door open, and immediately stepped into a familiar ward, with a familiar blond six year old boy, and his mother.

“Hey, Gra—” he clamped his lips shut just as Grace’s name threatened to escape, when the kid turned wide eyes to him. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Ho-ho-ho Merry Christmas!”

“Santa!” Nate squealed, nearly knocking over the weird machine that was connected to him.

“Yeah, that's me.” Mike smiled, walking over to a now beaming Nate.

“I knew you were coming! See, a friend told me. His name's trash-man. You might even know him.”

Mike nodded. “Sure, me and him go way back.” He turned briefly to Grace who still looked like she couldn't tell it was him behind the costume. “So, do you have a wish for me?” He pulled out his notepad.

“Yeah!”

“Well, let's hear it big guy.”

Nate cleared his throat and turned to his mother. “Mum, do you mind?”

“What?” Grace raised a brow.

“I would like to speak with Santa alone.”

“Oh?” Grace opened her mouth as if in protest, but quickly changed her mind. Nodding slowly, she turned her attention to Mike and began making her way to where he stood. “Santa,” she nodded in greeting, before turning to leave the room.

Mike didn't move until she was out of the door. He turned his attention back to Nate.

“She's gone.”

“Good. Okay, here's the thing, I don't really want a toy for Christmas.”

“But that's my job kid, I make toys.”

“Can't you grant this one wish?”

Mike sighed, and made his way over to Nate's bedside. Settling on the edge, he shook his head. It was one of the difficult part of being Santa; he had to tell the sick kids that he couldn't heal them, or make their bodies hurt any less. He had to tell them he could only give them toys —worthless products that would do nothing to ease their pains. And after his conversation with Eden two evenings ago, he was even more frustrated at the thought that he couldn't even give them the worthless toys.

He sighed, dreading his next words. “I can't make the sickness go away, buddy.” It was the truth; he was powerless. If he had the power, he would have made Maddie get better.

“I wasn't going to ask for that, that's what God's for, and you're just Santa.”

Mike heaved a really loud breath, relieved at the kid's reaction. “Great, so what do you want?”

Nate leaned forward so that his little face was only inches from Mike's. A smile curved the edges of his lips. “A smile. I want to see my mum happy again. Could you do that, Santa?”

It was supposedly a simple request, much easier than asking to get better. But so much more than that, it was a selfless request and while Mike didn't think he knew how to make it happen, he was willing to try.