Chapter When I was nineteen （1986）
When I was nineteen
This year I was there before he was, lighting the fire, and putting out a glass of whiskey. It occurred to me that I was being a little presumptive, but after seven Christmas Eves of him appearing, it didn’t even cross my mind that he wouldn’t be there.
“Is that for me?”
I smiled as I turned to see him standing beside the Christmas tree. “It certainly is.”
He took the glass and sat on the couch. “I hoped you’d be home for the holidays.”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? If I’d told Mom I wasn’t coming home, my balls would be hanging from that tree, covered in glitter.” Then I realized what I’d said. “Okay, sorry, that just slipped out.”
Santa waved his hand. “You’re good. This is how friends talk, right?”
Friends. We were surely that. The thought warmed me.
I raised my head toward the ceiling. There had been no sound from Ben’s room as I’d passed it—Mom had given him our old room, and put me in the guest room.
I was grateful for that. I loved Ben dearly—when he wasn’t being a smug asshole—but I had no desire to share a room with a fifteen-year-old boy.
I knew what I was like at fifteen, with Mom’s baby oil hidden under my mattress and an endless amount of wadded tissues that I snuck downstairs to the trash when no one was looking.
“You know what’s strange?” I mused. “In the eight years since we first met, no one has ever heard us talking, or walked in on us.”
Santa’s eyes sparkled. “That’s no accident. I made sure we wouldn’t be disturbed.”
I frowned. “How?” Then I rolled my eyes. Stupid question. By magic, of course.
“So tell me… how’s school?”
I leaned against the seat cushions. “School is good.” I loved my studies. I’d begun to come out of my shell a little, and I’d made some great friends.
I’d also met my fair share of assholes.
“Here’s a more important question. Are you seeing anyone?”
I sighed. “I was… for a while. It didn’t last.”
His sigh echoed mine. “Sorry. I don’t have the perfect guy for you lurking in my sack. You’ll have to find him on your own.”
I smiled. “But I appreciate the thought.”
His brow creased. “You’re being safe?”
I assured him I was.
“Good.” He reached under his cloak, and I knew what was coming. I laughed when he placed the brightly wrapped parcel on the cushion next to me.
“I can buy my own, you know.”
“I know, but it makes me happy to do this.”
The thought that I was in some way responsible for making Santa happy sent warmth barreling through me.
“Don’t worry. Someone will come along and sweep you off your feet.” His confident tone was reassuring.
Do I tell him? I smiled to myself. I’ve gotten this far. He should hear all of it.
“Actually? There is someone I wish would sweep me off my feet, but I don’t think he’ll ever find his way into your sack. It just isn’t gonna happen.”
“Why not?” Santa locked gazes with me. “Nothing is impossible, if you believe.”
I took a deep breath. “Having the hots for your English professor is about as impossible as it gets.”
He blinked. Blinked again. “Oh. I see.” He gave a tilt of his head. “So you like older guys?”
“Yeah.” It hadn’t taken me long to realize why Mike had only lasted a couple of weeks. I needed more maturity, more breadth of experience… “I can’t wait until I’m twenty-one and I can go to a gay bar. I might find guys more to my liking then.”
Santa’s eyes twinkled. “This professor… what’s he like?”
I smiled. “Not sure I should be telling you, because it occurs to me that you know everyone.”
He placed his hand on his heart. “I never reveal what’s under someone else’s tree. Except for Ben’s elastic Superman.”
We both laughed.
I stared at the dancing flames behind the grate, struggling with how much I wanted to reveal. I knew what my classmates would say if they learned how I felt. Who was to say Santa wouldn’t think the same way?
There was one way to find out.
“He’s maybe in his late thirties. He has a beard. He’s thoughtful, insightful, funny…” I gave him a defensive stare. “I know, it sounds weird that someone my age would be into someone who is twenty years older than me.” My friends would call him ancient.
“Not at all. If that’s what you want…” Santa sighed. “Human life is so short, so… fragile. You need to find happiness wherever you can.”
It was on the tip of my tongue. And where do you find your happiness?
The silence struck me.
Santa was looking at me, a steady, searching gaze that left me feeling so visible.
“Do you still want us to meet like this?” he asked.
Cold raced through me. “Why? Do you want to stop?”
“No, not at all. But I’d hate for us to get to the point where one or both of us wants to call it a day, and we were both too scared of hurting the other’s feelings to say anything.”
I shuddered out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank goodness. No, I’m more than happy for us to keep meeting up like this. However, I know the day will come when I won’t be coming home for the holidays anymore, so you won’t find me here.”
He smiled. “Don’t you worry about that. If you still want us to meet, I’ll find you, wherever you are.”
Calm settled on me. “That makes me happy.” I gave him a quizzical glance. “Though I am surprised you can still find the time. Your job must be busier than ever these days.”
“It doesn’t matter how busy it gets, I will always find time for you.” Santa raised his glass. “To continuing friendship, and a delightful tradition.”
His words warmed my heart.