4. Car Nap
4
Car Nap
During my next shift, this poor kid turned as red as Santa’s suit, screaming and crying. She was probably more tired than I was.
Her father, a fit guy with salt-and-pepper hair, tried to hand her off to Santa. “It’s okay. Just smile for the picture, baby.”
The kid kicked Santa, wailing and desperately trying to climb up to her father.
Pasting on a big smile, I rushed towards them. “Whoa, I need this kid for our holiday choir.”
A few people nearby chuckled. Jolly Santa lived up to his nickname with some full-bellied laughter, his cheeks all rosy and his crescent moon eyes twinkling.
I sat the kid on the armrest of Santa’s sleigh-throne. “Hey there. My name is Sugarplum. What’s yours?”
The kid blinked at me, mouth agape. At least she wasn’t screaming.
Her dad wiped her face on his sleeve. “Her name is Maxine, Maxie for short.”
I slapped my palm over my heart. “I love that name. What’s your favorite holiday song, Maxie?”
Maxie looked at her dad.
He adjusted her coat. “What song did we sing on the way over here today?”
She shook her head, dumbstruck.
I put my hands on my knees and squatted to her level. “It’s tough to pick, isn’t it? Plus, it’s kinda hard to think when everyone’s looking.”
“Yeah.” Maxie buried her face in her father’s jacket.
“I was super nervous the first time I met Santa,” I said, not-so-subtly gesturing to him. He wiggled his fingers at us in the most nonthreatening wave possible. “I was scared I’d do something wrong and get put on the naughty list," I admitted.
She whipped her head around, whispering, “Did he do it?”
“No, he’s really nice. Just like you,” I said.
Jolly Santa smiled under a big fake beard. “What would you like for Christmas, Maxine?”
“Um…” She twisted around, looking at all of us for an answer.
Her dad nudged her towards Santa. “She wants a new tablet. Don’t you, Maxie?”
She straightened her dress. “Yeah. A tablet.”
Parents often planted the answer for whatever present they’d already wrapped under the tree. It always surprised me how many stuck to technology.
Jolly Santa nodded. “That sounds very nice. I’ll see what I can do. Would you like a picture? You can sit in my sleigh or stay there, if you’d like.” He patted the seat.
Maxie tentatively slid onto the cushions, so I figured it was safe to prep the next kid, but the dad stepped out to block my path. “Hey, you’re great with kids.”
“Thanks. I’ve been told I have a youthful spirit.” I gestured to his daughter, who clung to his hand. “You seem like a good dad.”
He jerked his chin at me and smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Sugarplum.” It was on my nametag. I started to cross my arms, but forced them down to my sides. The North Pole was supposed to be a happy, welcoming place.
“Can you take a picture with us?” he asked.
“Sure.” I skipped over and made a silly pose next to Santa’s sleigh-throne. “On the count of three say, ‘candy.’”
“Candy,” they obliged.
Afterwards, the dad reviewed the photos on his phone. “Thanks for that. We look great. It’s rare I get to be in a picture with two gorgeous girls, especially as a single dad.”
My lungs tightened at the compliment. “Oh, how about that? Thanks for letting me be in your photo today.” I waved and walked towards the next guests, but the dad followed, his hand on my back to steer me half behind the poinsettia plants.
“Hey, what’s your handle? I can tag you in it. Plus, it’d be nice to have a form of contact in case we need to ask you about Santa.” He winked and leaned close so his daughter couldn’t hear. “Or I could take you to dinner.”
Oh no.
I patted his arm and backed away, my stomach twisting in knots despite my easy laughter. “Thanks, but we’re much too busy with Santa’s schedule for anything like that. Happy holidays and thanks for coming in.” My social media was mainly for mindless browsing. Plus, I wasn’t about to randomly give it out to a customer and be someone’s personal elf 24/7. Kids were great in certain contexts, but I wasn’t ready to date anyone who had them. I just hoped he wouldn’t leave a bad review for us.
“Okay, well, here's my card if you change your mind.” He slipped me his business card, took a candy cane, and strode off with his daughter, who fixed him with a glare. Did he hit on random women often?
I didn’t want to throw out his card in front of our other guests, so I tucked it in the waistband of my skirt and danced up to the front of the line. “Who’s ready to see Santa?”
A woman with medium-length blonde hair glared at me. “We were. But this is ridiculous. My family and I aren’t paying to sit around and watch you flirt.”
I raised my hands. “I wasn’t–”
“I’d like to talk to your manager.”
Those seven little words punched me right in the gut. I sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, I can get my Head Elf, but first, let me introduce you all to Santa.”
“You do that,” she snapped, dragging her kids by the scruff of their clothes.
The kids’ lower lips quivered. I couldn’t tell if it was because of their mom or me or a mix of mall adventures gone awry. My voice wavered during the meet-and-greet conversation.
The blonde lady hauled her kids up into Santa’s lap. “Be sure to tell him what you want, kids, because next year, we won’t be back.”
I blinked back stunned tears.
She’d ruin Santa for them?
I walked off to grab our Head Elf/manager on staff this shift, Mr. Hoynes. He was big enough to fill in for Santas if they called in sick, but he worried too much to take the mantle up permanently, so he mostly stuck to tallying Nice points for our bonus and finding 'personal goals' for us every day.
I sucked in and straightened my spine as I stood before him. “Hey, we have a lady in need of holiday magic.”
Mr. Hoynes’ features pinched. “What, why?”
“She got tired of waiting. And I guess she thought I was flirting? But I was just being our normal friendly and this dad came onto me and–” My throat closed. Don’t cry. Apologize. “I’m sorry.”
With a heavy sigh, Mr. Hoynes lowered his clipboard. “I don’t know why people expect to meet Santa within fifteen minutes on a weekend.” Mr. Hoynes dabbed his sweaty forehead and frowned at my shallow breathing. “Are you crying?”
I shook my head and wrung my skirt in my hands, not trusting myself to speak.
Mr. Hoynes shooed me away. “We can’t let the kids see a sad elf. Go backstage. But hurry back. We’re busy.”
Cheeks heating, I bolted through the crowds, trying to hide my face in my escape to the employee hub. Some form of public access small claims court blared from the break room.
“Is someone jingling?” someone asked from inside.
“Holiday season is hell. Forget those annoying bells, I have to wear a stupid paper crown,” a smooth, familiar voice said. “It’s like they keep finding new ways to embarrass us.”
What a grinch. Trembling, I peered into the break room, confirming that was him , the barista. The one with the olive cap.
I thought he liked my bells.
My teeth worried my lip. I couldn’t let him upset me more, which meant I couldn’t risk grabbing anything from the vending machine or fridge. He’d see me. And possibly speak.
The barista turned toward the doorway, no doubt expecting someone, but not me. Not like this, at least: bright, polyester uniform, watery eyes, and pom-poms galore. I dashed off fast enough it was possible he only caught a glimpse of me, though he would hear me.
Days like today, I wished I had an office to hide in. After tugging off my elf shoes, I stuffed myself into boots and a winter coat to head outside, frustration rising higher until my breaths came out in jagged, smokey rasps. Thankfully, I parked far enough away that there weren’t any cars waiting to take my spot. Others sped past, spraying my legs with slush. I threw myself into the back seat of my car and buried my face in my blankie to let out a wail.
I tried so hard and it still wasn’t enough. It never would be.
I was so tired. So hungry. My throat swelled to the point that crying hurt.
The pink sippy cup stowed in the back pocket of the passenger’s side held my salvation. But no matter how hard I sucked or shook the cup, I couldn’t get any of the apple juice within. It didn’t move. It was frozen.
I stuck the cup inside my coat in the hopes it would melt enough to drink. I needed energy. Something happy. I was too tired to even try coloring. My penguin plush Mr. Waddles served as a snuggly pillow in the back seat.
One day, I hoped I’d have a job that allowed an actual nap time in a place with heating.
That was probably a far-off dream. At the very least, I hoped out of all the people I worked with, some of them were happier because of me.