18. The Third Day Before Christmas #3
Because, surely, he isn’t going to leave with the last words he said hovering between us. Except he does. Eventually, he hunches his shoulders and lets the guys take him back to the Santa loft.
He doesn’t even spare me a glance goodbye. He’s done, even if Maria isn’t.
“You, sir, have already been asked to leave,” Maria says, whirling around to face Mal. “Please consider yourself on the naughty list and never come back.”
“You’re really going to lose a paying customer over her ? You should be thanking me and maybe I won’t consider blasting what a shitshow this place is everywhere I can.”
Not that Maria ever smiles, but somehow her face becomes sterner.
“You’re right. I should be thanking you.
Thank you for reminding me that there are more important things in life than money or success.
It doesn’t matter if you’re a doctor if your heart is blacker than coal.
This young lady may have questionable scruples when it comes to paperwork, but she is a good person.
She cares. She loves with all her heart and that has made the difference in so many children’s lives.
” She looks Mal up and down in a way that has him squirming under her gaze.
“I hope that you take this opportunity to take a good, long, hard look at yourself and the person you want to be. I hope you think about the difference between love and attention. Money and status will get you one, integrity and humility will get you the other.”
For a moment, it looks like Mal is going to say something back. He always does. He perpetually needs to have the last word. He needs every argument to end on his terms. He needs to be the one to decide to walk away.
As he falters under Maria’s stare, a different voice rings out. “You’re a meanie,” yells a little boy—the same one who told me that he was going to set up a trap to catch me on Christmas.
“You made Santa cry!” yells another one—a sweet little girl who asked for twelve puppies for Christmas.
I sniff, wiping at my face. Whatever my own life’s problems are, these kids shouldn’t be seeing Santa cry.
“You’re ruining Christmas, dude!” adds a dad. “Go home!”
“Yeah, leave her alone!” a mom adds. Then, more quietly, “God, I can’t believe even Santa has to deal with douchebag exes.” She cringes because she clearly said that too loudly.
“Yeah, douchebag!” yells a kid. A fairly young kid.
A couple of other kids, take up the call. It starts with a handful of kids chanting ‘douchebag’ at Mal. Then, soon enough, everyone takes up the chant. Kids, parents, grandparents, and elves alike start chanting douchebag at him.
Mal, forever the expert at inciting emotion then calling me emotional, purples with rage. Apparently, a hundred people, including children, calling him a douchebag over and over again moves him in a way my tears and pleading never could.
He opens his mouth, spittle at the ready and crazy in his eyes, but before he says anything, Maria leans over and whispers something in his ear.
I can’t hear them over the Christmas choir harmonizing on their douchebag carol.
I watch him, though. I watch him deflate a little as he takes in the scene before him.
Without another word, without even a backwards glance at me, he leaves.
The crowd erupts into a cheer. If I didn’t know him so well, if I hadn’t spent almost a decade watching his body language, living for a lightness in his step and dying in the tension between his shoulders, I might have missed it.
Right as the happy sound of the crowd hits him, his step fumbles. Just a little.
Wiping at my tears with the back of my hand, I watch Mal leave. I hope I forget him. I hope that one day I’ll search for his name when I tell the story of the winter I pretended to be Santa. I hope I can walk our old streets together and see only the present.
I hope I never lose the lesson, though. I hope I never forget that bad relationships happen one harsh word at a time.
I hope I never forget that becoming small happens by degrees under the weight of someone else's insecurities. I hope I never forget that someone can become so awful that a crowd of children will jeer at him, but I’ll stay with him if I think that’s what I deserve.
“I’m going to need everyone to remember that this is a place of business and that you all have jobs to do.
” Maria snaps to the Snowspruce staff, forcing me to stop watching Mal.
Forever. “Elves, I want all hands on deck at the hot chocolate stations. Free hot chocolate to everyone. As much as they want. Go! ”
She turns to the crowd. “If you’ll forgive our dramatic retelling of The Grinch , I’d like to offer free hot chocolate to all our cherished guests!”
The crowd grumbles, but recognizes when a show is done. Credits are rolling, nothing to see here, folks, except for a weepy Santa looking forlornly at another Santa who’s already long gone.
Finally, when everyone’s left, Maria turns to me. That stern, all-business look has faded, replaced with something akin to compassion.
“Viola Pearson,” she says, testing out my name on her tongue.
I wince. “That’s me.”
“Not Sebastian Pearson like your paperwork says.”
I try for a wobbly smile. “As you like to point out, technically, I haven’t given you most of my paperwork.”
She narrows her eyes. “Your ex really is a piece of shit, though, so I guess not everything was a lie.”
Her expression is unreadable. I have no idea if she hates me or is just being factual.
Still, her words sting at me, reminding me that I hurt the most caring person I know in the only way he asked not to be hurt.
I swallow. “I’m sure you have a lot to say to me, and I know I deserve it, but could I just go talk to Duke for a minute—”
Maria shakes her head slightly as I speak. “He’s in the Santa loft.”
I wait for more. “Yes?”
“The Santa loft is just for employees, I’m afraid.”
“I—I am an employee.” My voice cracks as I desperately hope she doesn’t say what I think she’s going to say.
Maria pinches the bridge of her nose, avoiding eye contact with me. “Viola Pearson, unfortunately, has never been an employee here at Snowspruce Christmas Village.”
My heart sinks. It’s so much better than what she could be saying, but it still breaks me. “Maria—”
“I meant what I said earlier, Viola. I like you. I think you’re a good person and an even better Santa.
” She clears her throat. “But you’ve left us—you’ve left me in a bit of a situation.
” She takes a deep breath. “I think it’s best if you just leave for the rest of the day. I have a lot to untangle and assess.”
Again, this is exactly what I suspected would happen. What I knew would have to happen. Still, it feels like my feet have been kicked out from under me.
“Viola, if you’d like to wait in my office until I can check to see that your ex has vacated the parking lot, you can do that.”
“No,” I answer, feeling entirely disconnected from myself. “I’ve caused enough trouble. I’m so, so sorry.”
Exit Viola.
Maria watches her flee, shaking her head slightly as she sighs.