A Bitchin’ Christmas
Mandy
The bathroom door shuts behind me, and I brace my hands on the counter. I slowly,reluctantly,drag my eyes to the mirror and cringe at my reflection.
Ihatemirrors.
The only one in my house, above the bathroom sink, is covered with a poster of theSmashingPumpkins. How did I let the Bitches talk me into this? A scarred and burned Santa Claus? Fucking ridiculous. I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years. In the service, there was no point. I never took leave because I had nowhere to go. No family waited for me for the holidays. The Army was my family—my unit, my brothers.
After the Army, I spent the first year in the nursing home rehabbing. The Activities Director put together a Christmas party for the residents, but I didn’t attend. I just stayed in bed. In my second year, I had just moved into my apartment. Again, I stayed in bed. What was the point of celebrating by myself?
I had nothing to celebrate.Until now. The Bitches are my family. BALLS is my home, and when Margaret Anne asked me to play Santa, how could I refuse her? Except now, I wholeheartedly regretted it. The fake beard itched my sensitive skin. The heavy polyester suit was too hot, and I was sweating.I’m not sure where they dug this suit up from, but the hat smells like cheese. The only thing that feels like me are my shoes. I don’t know what kind of boots Santa wears with his suit, but I’m wearing combat boots with mine.
The only bright spot in this whole debacle is my assistant. As soon as Tex found out I was playing Santa, he volunteered to be my elf. Sweet Jesus, I nearly choked on my candy cane when I saw that man in a red satin corset and green short shorts. Of course, he wore his brown cowboy boots with it, because what else would Tex wear? They were like his uniform. But the Santa hat sold it. He looked like a sexy, slutty elf from the Vegas strip.
When Liza found out I was playing Santa, she urged me to visit the children’s hospital in Asheville. It was an immediate no from me until Tex caught wind. He went on and on about all of the children I could help at the burn center and laid the guilt on thick.
“Can you imagine being a child on Christmas stuck in the hospital? You have to go visit them, Mandy,” he’d pleaded.
I didn’t have to doanything, except I did when Tex looked at me with his sweet blue eyes and those peach lips. Christ, I’m a fucking moron. He knows I get the heebie-jeebies when I step foot inside the parking lot of the hospital, yet there I was, white-knuckling it as I marched through the double doors and rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. The only reason, theonlyreason, I didn’t turn tail and run was because he was by my side, holding my hand.
I passed out gifts and candy and read them a story,The Night Before Christmas. When it was over, I walked out of there so fast my suit almost caught fire.
Then Stiles called and said the guy they chose to be Santa for their ALR Christmas party got sick and canceled. Again, I was guilted into making an appearance. The American Legion of Riders held a spectacular toy drive for the kids each year, raisingenough money to buy gifts for kids in foster care. There was no way I could leave them without a Santa for their party. I’m just grateful no one pointed out my scars.
And now, this. Time to fulfill my favor to Margaret Anne and play Santa for the kids of BALLS.Fuck it, here we go.
Exiting the bathroom, I make my way down the long hallway to the reception lobby, where all the kids are seated on the floor around the Christmas tree. Most of them are the children of vets who attend BALLS, and some of them are the children of fallen soldiers.
I mean, really, how could I say no to these kids?
Tex kneels beneath the tree, grabbing presents and distributing them to each child. Margaret Anne passes out hot cocoa and candy canes, and everyone sings along to Christmas carols playing in the background. The TV on the wall displays a screensaver of a crackling fire.
One child, with the palest skin, freckles, and red hair–I swear to Christ, he could be McCormick‘s long-lost love child—tears into the paper covering his gift like it had wronged him, squealing like a stuck pig when he sees theLegoset. It was a replica of a fire station, and the kid was thrilled.
“Thank you, Santa!” He barrels toward me at full speed, crashing into me and wrapping his skinny arms around my tense shoulders. “How did you know what I asked for?”
Was he serious? I didn’t even know his name.
Tex intervenes smoothly. “Santa knows all about the good boys and girls on the nice list. Remember, he sees you when you’re sleeping, and he…”
“Knows when you’re awake!” The kid shouts.
It’s the most inconvenient time to be having a moment, but I’m fucking having one, in the lobby of BALLS, surrounded by Christmas chaos. That child looked at me with joy, he fuckinghuggedme. A child hasneverhugged me. They stare at meat the grocery store, and they whisper loudly to their mothers and fathers, asking what’s wrong with my face and why I look different. They’re even scared of me. I’ve made more babies cry than I care to admit. Maybe because my curly white beard is covering my burns, but dressed as Santa Claus, I’m not a burn victim. I’m just…Mandy. Just a guy. Well, actually, I’m Santa Claus, and to a child, nothing beats that.
My eyes blink rapidly, batting away the tears I feel coming, and Tex stands in front of me, shielding me with his body. I’m so fucking grateful for him. It’s like he can feel my emotions without me having to say a word. For all that he appears to be a shallow himbo, Tex is a very sensitive and intuitive man.
“All right, children, when you’re finished unwrapping your gifts, don’t forget to throw away your trash.” Margaret Anne carries a large garbage bag around the circle, picking up bits and pieces of colorful wrapping paper and discarded bows.
She winks at me, and I give her my warmest smile. She has no idea about the gift she’s given me this year. For these twenty minutes I’m sitting here pretending to be Santa, I have the opportunity to blend in, I have the opportunity to be normal. To feel someone’s arms wrap around me with love. For a person who is touch-starved and emotionally isolated, that’shuge. It’s everything.Everything.
I smile for pictures, I sing Christmas carols, and I drink the cocoa, and when it’s all finished, Tex leads me down the hall toward the classrooms in the back of the building. We have one more party to attend today. The only one I’m actually looking forward to. The Bitches' Christmas party. The guys are already here, putting the finishing touches on the classroom. They hung a red and green paper chain and strings of popcorn across the window.
The cheapest, ugliest little Christmas tree, no more than twelve inches tall, sits atop the folding table. It’s decorated withstrands of colorful yarn. A pair of purple knitting needles stick out from the top instead of a star. The table is laden with food and drinks. It’s easy to guess who brought what. A testament to how well I know my brothers.
The bag of cheese puffs and pork rinds came from Stiles. There’s no doubt in my mind the paper plates and cups came from Jax because I’m not sure he’s ever stepped foot inside a grocery store. The man exists on takeout alone. The sweet-and-sour meatballs are probably Riggs‘s contribution. The finger sandwiches could be from Brewer and Nash, or Brandt, I’m not sure. But the huge bowl of Chili Mac has West's name all over it. What in the ever-loving fuck? I lean in closer over the casserole dish. It looks like…Beanie Weenies, baked beans, and shredded cheddar cheese.I’ll be damned.Something from McCormick I might actually be able to ingest.
“Holy shit, you look like a stripper fresh from the company Christmas party,” West snipes at Tex.
