“My voice doesn’t sound like that.”
“It sounded exactly like that.” I point out. “And again, not a proper response, Stetson, not at all. I’m gonna need more here.”
“Why?” He looks genuinely surprised.
“Are you kidding me?” I practically sputter and spread my arms wide. “Can I state the most obvious fact there is? Your dad is freaking Santa Claus! Again, mythical, again, magical, job is the last word I would use to describe any of this.”
He still looks like it’s no big deal. Maybe he’s been forced to, or maybe just being born into it really is that, like when you’re born into money. I chew my lower lip, I guess he’s almost like a lot of my rich friends, they truly have no grasp on reality sometimes and you can’t fault them for it when they don’t know anything else, when their normal is having five nannys for onekid or going on an arctic cruise to watch polar bears while some people struggle just to put a turkey on the table for the Holidays. You are a victim of your environment and I guess that doesn’t change even if you’re…Santa?
“And you…” I poke him in the side. “You’re his heir. I get that it’s a job to you, it’s just to the rest of the world, well non-existent and second, a title I think more than job? Wow, maybe you really are the Batman of Christmas, you should ask your dad about a cape, we could do a lot with a cape.”
A grin spreads across his face. “I like the way you think.” He taps me on the nose with his finger. “And I’m well aware I’m his heir and yeah I think title does work better than job, see? I knew I needed you, beautiful and smart, and understanding, sexy…” Okay he’s seriously distracting. Every word he says drips like sugar from his lips as he leans in closer to me like he’s going to kiss me.
He suddenly pulls back and clears his throat. “I don’t know what to tell you, Charlie Horse… this has been my life from the moment I was born. It’s all I know.”
I understand what he’s telling me but then I don’t because it just seems so out there and so surreal that it’s hard to wrap your brain around. “It’s the only life you’ve ever known.” I agree. “Just like, this is all I know.”
Sadness.
Loneliness.
Who, hello darkness my old friend, talk about intrusive dark thoughts at the totally wrong time!
Maybe it’s not my place to explain to him how strange it is, again, it’s the same with some of my friends, no matter how many times I try they won’t ever fully get it, maybe that’s why I do feel so lonely. Even my best friend doesn’t get it and she’s one of the best people I know.
“Your dad is the most famous man in the world, like across all religions and countries,” I tell him what he obviously already knows. “Everyoneloves the guy.”
He laughs. “He’s easy to love, but for me and my sister, he’s just dad. He’s goofy, makes the worst jokes, as you’ve witnessed can’t carry a tune to save his life, and thinks that if he bakes, he doesn’t have to do the dishes.”
Just dad. I like it.
I fumble with the blanket and look away. “And the other women you’ve had sign your agreement?” I can’t help it. I’m too curious.
“What about them?” His look becomes more guarded. Is he going to change the subject? The air shifts, becoming more tense than it was a few seconds ago.
I try not to sound like a jealous whiner. I remind myself that I’m not allowed to be a jealous whiner. I walked into this willingly and signed my damn name, so to throw a fit over women no longer in the picture would be petty and stupid on my part, but jealousy doesn’t really care just like insecurity doesn’t really lean on logic.
I said I was ready for whatever adventure he wanted to play the minute I signed.
“Did they take it in easily?” I try and sound cool, but let’s be honest nothing about my question is cool but I can’t help it. “All of this?”
Stetson’s eyes become more hooded. His jaw clenches and unclenches and then he finally says. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never introduced any of them to my dad.”
My heart thumps so hard I’m sure he felt it. I can’t breathe. Nobody met his dad. I did. What does this mean? I need more time to mentally analyze this but I’m having a hard time not hyperventilating and or jumping into his arms.
“Oh.” My voice sounds small, but then I remember…My heart slams against my chest harder.
“You also said you’ve never brought anyone to Santa’s Village.” It’s all starting to become clearer.
“I haven’t.” He states emphatically.
“That’s not the way your dad made it sound though.”
Why am I going down this road with the questioning? Why am I acting like a jealous, insecure coo-coo face when I only just met the guy? Ugh, even as I’m asking, I want to sew my mouth shut.
“I just don’t like to be lied to,” I explain my erratic questions as quickly as I can, so he knows where I’m coming from.
“You think I’m lying to you.” He states it. Doesn’t ask it, just states it like it’s a fact and I kind of want to smack him on the head, duh, of course I think you’re lying because it all can’t be this good, this real, there has to be a catch, there’s always a catch.
