14. Memento
14
Memento
The next day, exhaustion weighed on my brain. I almost called in sick. But I couldn't. At least at work, I could make someone happy. Cotton-balls stuffed my sinuses and my eyelids dragged with every blink. If only I was allowed to curl up on the fake snow for a nap. I needed some North Pole magic. And vitamins. And tea. But I couldn’t think about hot beverages today–or the pretty, heartbreaking boys who served them.
A little girl stumbled over to our station, slack-jawed and gaping at one of the ornate Christmas trees. “Mommy, can we have a tree like this?”
A woman holding her round belly brushed her fingers through the little girl’s curls, her expression soft and sweet. “I’m not sure it would fit. How about we get a special ornament?”
“Okay.” The little girl swayed as she admired our treasure trove of craftsmanship: delicate glass birds, shiny baubles, and enough stars to grant a galaxy of wishes.
Not mine, of course, but I could sustain myself on other people’s hope.
I strolled over. “I love sparkles, too. I was hoping to catch the Winter Festival downtown for some homemade goodies. But Santa and our elf crew work with Fancee’s to decorate our trees. You can get any of these ornaments from the department store behind us.”
The little girl pointed at a braided gold circlet. “Even the halo?”
I nodded and crossed my arms, leaning to one side as if I was studying her. “You don’t have one at home? I could’ve sworn you were on the good list this year.”
She widened her eyes, then whipped around to face her mother. “Mom, do you think–”
“Yes, you’ve been good this year,” she replied with a little laugh.
I clasped my hands and half-bowed. “Would you two like a photo with the tree? Or I could introduce you to Santa, if you’d–”
“Santa?” The little girl tugged at her mom’s coat. “Mom, Santa’s here.”
I ushered them over. “He wanted to meet as many kids as he could this year. You can say hi if you’re not busy.”
The little girl shrieked with glee and took off down our red carpet, launching herself at Jolly Santa.
He barely got out a hello before the girl rammed into his big round belly, forcing all the air out his lungs in a grunted “oof.”
She couldn’t quite fit her arms around him. “Wow, you’re fat like Mommy.”
The mother covered her mouth and hurried over. “I am so sorry.”
“Santa and I love cookies,” I said, my mouth running dry at the memory of a certain sugary snowman. “What would you want to snack on after a long day of climbing down chimneys or coloring?”
The mother shot me a grateful look as the little girl launched into a conversation with Santa.
An insistent tickle crawled up my throat. I hid behind the trees and snapped a candy cane within its wrapper.
Chestnut strolled in for his shift. “Hey. You look tired.”
I tore open the package and coughed. “Thanks. I closed last night.”
He yawned and jerked his chin at the candy. “Won’t the sugar make you crash though?”
“It’s for my throat. I ran out of cough drops two hours ago. Just gonna keep sucking on these things until I can go home.” I shook the peppermint pieces into my mouth, trying not to grimace at the powdery mix.
Chestnut nudged me with his elbow. “Why don’t you visit Harvey and get some tea?”
My former crush’s name hurt more than the candy shards poking my esophagus. I placed my hand over my heart and swallowed hard, hoping it’d ease the pain. “I’m trying to save money.”
“Bet he’d give you some stuff for free,” Chestnut teased, reaching around me to hide his phone in our nook.
Trapped between his arm and a tree, I tried to avoid my distorted reflection in a shiny bauble ornament. “I’m giving up caffeine.”
Chestnut hesitated. “Did something happen with Harvey?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” It was too embarrassing.
He shook his head. “Aw, what an idiot. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or terrible breath.”
No, he smelled like cinnamon and roasted beans. I pushed past Chestnut to get back to work. The families needed me to help them make great memories. They kept me busy away from my coworker's inquiries.
My holiday elf persona functioned on autopilot: I sang the holiday songs, quizzed kids on reindeer, asked people about the highlights of their year, gave directions, and handed out candy canes. Time lost all meaning outside of line wait updates.
But then I felt someone staring at me. Not with childish wonder or teen disdain. They were watching me. I made my way into the grove's nook to restock candy canes, somewhere most people couldn’t see me. Heart pounding hard, I peeked out from my sanctuary and scanned the mall crowd, my gaze pulled to a man in an olive cap standing outside Fancee’s. My eyes widened, and Harvey froze, paling before color flooded his cheeks. He glanced slightly to the left, hunched his shoulders, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
What was he doing here? Did he want to talk to me?
No, he was frowning and talking to a security guard. He pulled at his clothes and glanced my way. If his uncomfortable body language was any indicator, there’d be no more smiles or free cookies for me.
Wait, why was he talking to security? I bunched the edge of my uniform skirt in my sweaty palms. They were looking at me and gesturing vaguely. What if Harvey was here to report me for having a kink or something? What if they fired me? I’d lose the last thing that really makes me happy.
My brain shut down, muffling the noise of kids crying and cheery holiday music as I staggered back to the line in a daze. A family handed me a phone to take a picture.
I tried to steady my shaking hands enough to prevent motion blur in the photo. “Hi, how’s your week been?” I asked.
The parent on the left answered, “Great, we went to the Winter Festival. Have you ever gone?”
It twisted my heart, but I smiled. “Not this year. I’ve been enjoying this winter wonderland.”
“Well, you should get out more. Santa can’t keep you in the workshop all day,” the parent on the right joked.
“At least it’s heated,” I ribbed back, my voice wavering. “Smile and say ‘Christmas tree.’”
“‘Christmas tree,’” the family sang in perfect harmony.
Their toddler tugged on Santa’s beard. The curly white tendrils reminded me of someone else’s much darker clouds, plus the ones hanging over my head.
When I looked back at Fancee’s, Harvey wasn’t there.
Mr. Hoynes peered at me. “Are you sick? Your nose is all red.”
I shook my head, blinking fast. “Just tired.”
I had to get over Harvey. And come up with a plan. Fast.
I unclenched my jaw, lowered my shoulders, and smiled. Time to make people happy for as long as Santa would let me.