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“I know you are right, mama, but I don’t know how. I mean how can you? You lost a child. Your youngest, the morning of Christmas.” The pain resonates. It’s fresh, new like it just happened, cracking my heart, splintering it into more pieces. My hand goes to my chest as I try to hold the anguish and sorrow inside from losing my baby brother. “I stayed up all night, writing letter after letter to Santa to save him. Show mercy on us. I asked God even to reverse everything and make it right, but still, I wake up on the morning of miracles and my little brother is gone. How do I let that go? How am I supposed to be happy when he never had a chance for a normal life?” I watch the tears fall from her eyes and immediately I feel like an ass. I walk to her, put my arms around her and hold her as she sobs for the child she lost.
My little brother, Darin, was three years younger than me. When he was born, it was clear that he was sickly, but it wouldn’t be until he was four that he was diagnosed with childhood Leukemia. That was a massive blow, especially because it was already so far advanced the doctors weren’t sure treatment would work. For three years he went from the doctors to home and back again.
Then, six weeks before Christmas, the doctors informed us the treatments were not working and all we could do was make him comfortable and let him leave in peace at home. He came home from the hospital, and we did our best to do just that, not letting on how scared and devastated we were. The morning we woke up and found him unresponsive with no pulse, I vowed never again to celebrate Christmas or believe in anything resembling miracles.
My mom wipes her face and pushes back from me. Her hand comes to my face, and she looks into my eyes. “I know how much you loved your brother, my boy. I read every letter you wrote to Santa when I found them on the floor beside his bed and it ripped my heart out. But, your brother was kind, loving and he looked up to you more than anyone. He wouldn’t want this solitary existence for you, void of love and a family. If you have a chance for even a little bit of happiness, Claude, take it and don’t let go.” Her thumb wipes away my one lone tear and I kiss her forehead.
“Yes ma'am.” After walking her out, I lock up and hit the hay. I need my rest. Seems I am getting up early to go and get my woman.
It is too fucking early in the morning for people to be so damn happy and cheery. If I didn't know any better, I would think they spiked the hot chocolate and eggnog. I move around the square, watching families in various states of activity and I can admit my heart yearns a little. I envy their happiness and the apparent belief that it will last.
My feet falter as I continue to move, hesitation spearing right to the core of me wondering why I am here. I look up, throwing my head up trying to convince myself to leave because I am not a believer. The moment I decide to give up, the wind picks up and I hear a laugh move across me like a warm fire mixed with honey and my eyes scan the crowd. It’s not until the crowd parts that I see her, my Missy, covered head to toe in red and white including a Santa hat looking like a naughty helper, smiling and laughing at something another man is saying to her.
I am no longer in a debate about what to do. I move through the crowd, ignoring any and everything but the beauty in my line of sight. She is so engrossed in her conversation that she doesn’t notice me until I'm next to her, pulling her into my chest. She gasps and turns. Her face heats up as shock and excitement crosses her face. She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes me tight. Looks like someone missed me. I lean in, sniffing her neck, licking it before I whisper in her ear, “You are mine now.” Guess Santa is making it up to me after all.
CHAPTER 5
MISSY
He came! He really came. Again he whispered dirty things to me, and I loved it. Hand in hand we walk over to the ornament booth. We make one that says Christmas 2021 and then move over to a food truck and order some hot chocolate. It’s hot as hell, but you can’t have Christmas without hot chocolate.
