“Yes. People tend to like their Santas old and wizened. I’m just trying to fulfill the fantasy.” I’d dusted my black beard to ashen gray to complete the look of the jolly man from the North Pole.
“It looks good,” Belen breathed out. “But I would imagine most things look good on you.”
I was out of practice but it felt like her compliment was interwoven with a bit of flirting. “I’m glad you approve.”
Her mouth creased in the corners before she stepped back. And as if a switch was thrown, I was now aware of the other staff bustling all around us. The four Christmas elves with curled shoes that jingled when they walked, the man and woman dressed like a toy soldier, and a painted doll with ringlets respectively, both dancing to an upbeat Christmas tune.
“Ten minutes until show time people,” Belen yelled, her focus no longer solely on me. Clipboard in hand, she ticked off items on her list.
I stood in awe watching as Belen commanded Santa’s toy shop flittering between stoic nutcracker figures standing ten feet tall. The skirt of her dress appeared to dance as she circled the face painting station. She’d answer a staffer in need of direction between rearranging Christmas candy too large to be real. Belen was hands on, leaving no detail unattended.
Making my way to Santa’s chair, I ran my hand across the oversized red velvet tufted throne with gold details. Taking a seat, I adjusted my coat so it fell just right over my pillowy belly. “Ho, ho, ho,” I mumbled under my breath, practicing different inflections. “Ho,ho, ho.”
A line was already forming of children dressed in their Sunday best, all waiting for an audience with Saint Nick. Bright smiles and waves greeted me as the young faces craned their necks and stood on tiptoes in hopes of catching a glimpse. Stretching my face into a wide smile, I waved back, billowing out a boisterous, “HO, HO, HO.”
My shout caused Belen to spin on her heels with awe in her eyes as she clutched the clipboard against her chest, mouth agape. Her approval made my heart go haywire in an erratic beat pattern. I was hopeful this wouldn’t be the only time I took her breath away.
One of the elves with the jingling shoes, which I knew would grate on my nerves by the end of the day, unclasped the velvet rope, letting the first child in with his parents close behind. Like I was taught in the one hour how to be a Santa training I received a week prior, I smiled bright, ready for the young lad to hop on my lap.
The boy, who appeared to be six or seven, stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of me. “Man, you ain’t Santa, you’re Black.”
“What are you doing?”I asked Chloe who was standing on a step stool in the middle of the break room doorway.
“Hanging mistletoe,” Chloe replied, securing the vegetation to the hook she’d screwed into the archway.
I pursed my lips as my features tighten.
“You’re the one who said it didn’t feel like Christmas in the office.”
“Yes, but I meant garland or a wreath, not mistletoe.” I frowned, remembering the last time the festive plant was hung in the workplace, Philbert from accounting was suspended and to this day complains how no one can take a joke.
“Just killing two birds with one stone. It’ll make the place merry and it could potentially spark a love connection between me and the new girl in sales.” Chloe climbed down from the ladder, placing it back in the broom closet.
I decided not to yuck Chloe’s yum. It would be nice if love was as simple as strategically placed mistletoe.
“Good morning people,” Aiden Elliott said upon entering the kitchen.
The muscle under my eye twitched. Aiden was the last person I’d want to get caught under the mistletoe with.
“Did you have a good night?” Aiden asked.
Chloe offered a response. “Yeah, it was okay. I made some salmon which in about five hours will be stinking up the breakroom.”
Aiden inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. “I was talking to Belen.”
Chloe’s naturally full lips were pulled into a harsh line. “Oh my bad I didn’t realize you and Belen were back on speaking terms.”
“We’re not.” I pulled a bagel from a crumpled paper bag.
Aiden crossed the laminated floor, boxing me in against the counter. “I’m trying to rectify that?”
“Aiden, we’ve been through this. And frankly I’m tired of going back and forth with you on an issue I’m firmly settled on.”
He tilted his head trying to get me to look him in the eye. In a whisper he said, “How many ways do I have to say I’m sorry? Lo siento. Je suis désolé. Förlåt.” Even while attempting to apologize, he was a cocky shit, feeling the need to flex his fluency in several languages. “I want to fix this.”
The sound of me pushing air through my nose in a huff was audible to everyone in the room. “There is nothing to fix. When you said we were over I believed you and moved on.”
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
