Chapter When I was forty-seven （2014）
When I was forty-seven
I knew he’d arrived when I could no longer hear the TV. Not that I’d been watching it. The shows had blurred into one big blur of sound and vision, and it had become part of the background.
My mind was elsewhere, and it fucking hurt.
A gentle hand squeezed my shoulder, and I fought not to sob with relief. “Hey.” The word came out as a croak.
“Anthony… I’m so, so sorry.”
He knew then. Of course he did.
“Did Ben and his family come over for the funeral?”
“Which one?” My throat tightened, and I took another drink from a very tall glass of whiskey and soda. It was doing a crap job of numbing the pain.
Santa sat beside me, took the glass from my hand, placed it on the small table, then pulled me to him.
I buried my face in his cloak and wept. They might not have been the best parents in the world, but they were all I had, and now they were gone.
First my mom, of a heart attack, and then my dad, who had followed a month later, as if he couldn’t bear to be on this earth without her.
Way too fucking soon.
“She didn’t have even one decade left.”
He stroked my hair. “Do you want me to leave?”
I jerked my head up. “God no. I need you. I need you so much right now.”
“You’ve got me,” he soothed.
“Haven’t you got presents to deliver?” I was praying he was done for the night.
I couldn’t bear for him to leave, not when I needed his arms around me.
A small part of my brain kept telling me he was only holding me so close because I was his friend, and I was hurting. That it was nothing more than that.
I didn’t care right then. I’d take what I could fucking get.
“I’m done for this year. Now, I’m all yours.”
God, I wish you were. I tortured myself with the idea of turning my face up toward his, inching closer, and kissing him, feeling that gossamer beard rub against my own coarser version.
Except I wouldn’t do that. I wasn’t about to kiss a straight man, just because I’d dreamed of doing it countless times during the last few years. Because the consequences of such an action?
I could lose my best friend.
That was no exaggeration. I had friends, acquaintances, but no one who knew me the way he did. No one who could walk into my living room once a year, and get me, truly get me, balls to bones. No one who understood me the way he did.
The best friend I’d ever had, and I couldn’t tell a soul.
When my tears had ebbed, I shifted out of his embrace. “Don’t think I’m in the mood for a sleigh ride this year,” I told him.
He sighed. “Pity. There was something I wanted you to see.”
“You took me to Italy last time. And Iceland the year before. I’m pretty sure you can’t top that trip.” The scenery had been breathtaking.
He cleared his throat. “This would be a very different trip.”
Goosebumps erupted, carpeting my arms. My skin tingled. “I see.” My heart pounded. “Then I guess we’d better go to the sleigh.”
He stilled. “But you said—”
“I lied, okay? If it’s a choice between sitting here wallowing in grief and self-pity, and going for a ride with you, well, that’s a no-brainer.” I managed a smile. “Besides, you’ve intrigued me.” Then it hit me. “Wow.”
He frowned. “What is it?”
“You made me smile. I don’t think I’ve smiled for a couple of months.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Then come with me, and I’ll show you something to make you smile again.
Something no one has ever seen.” I grasped his hand, he hauled me to my feet, and a heartbeat later we stood next to the sleigh.
The reindeer turned their heads, nodding and making happy little noises that made me feel amazing.
“They’ve missed you,” Santa said in a warm voice. He stepped into the sleigh, and I joined him, searching for the thick rug he’d tucked over my legs the previous year. “You won’t need that, not where we’re going.”
“Someplace where it’s summer?” I inquired.
“Not exactly.”
I leaned into him, he grabbed the reins, and the team of reindeer pulled us effortlessly into the sky.
Higher and higher we went, until I could see the curvature of the earth beneath us, and my breathing quickened.
Then light sparkled all around us as we plunged, heading back down with me screaming like a little boy on his first roller coaster, clinging to Santa, the air rushing past us, stealing my breath, making my heart thump.
Thick, white cloud surrounded us, so solid you could imagine bouncing on it, and then we were through—
I blinked at the sight below.
“Oh my God, where are we?”
It was beautiful. Rolling green hills flowed down to a sparkling ocean, and in the midst of that green lush landscape stood a house, low, white, surrounded by fields and trees.
There was nothing else for miles. In the distance, jagged peaks rose, topped with white, and far off across the ocean I glimpsed a series of islands set in impossibly turquoise waters.
Down, down, down we went, until the reindeer’s hooves touched land, and we were pulled toward that enticing house. The sleigh came to a halt at the end of a squat wall, a gate across the gap.
I got out of the sleigh, unable to tear my gaze away from the natural beauty before me. “What is this place?”
Santa stood beside me. “You’re in my realm now, and this is my home.”
I gaped. “So all the stories about the North Pole—”
“Are myths, yes.” He gestured to the gate. “Shall we go in?”
I walked along the pink slab-paved path, and a delicious scent assaulted my nostrils. “What is that smell?” It was familiar somehow.
“It’s the grass.”
I’d always liked the smell of newly mown grass, but this fragrance…
Then I realized where I’d encountered it before—it had clung to Santa every time he’d appeared in my home.
“No wonder I couldn’t place it,” I murmured.
“There’s nothing like it on the planet, is there?
” Because all my senses told me wherever Santa’s home was, it was not of the Earth.
We approached the door, and my pulse sped up at the thought of what might lie beyond it.
But when he pushed it open, what met my eyes was a pleasant interior of warm cream walls, red floor tiles, and a rustic fireplace dominating the center of the room.
Colorful rugs lay everywhere, and large windows allowed the light to spill into every corner and crevice.
“This is amazing.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
I wandered around the room, stroking the leather couches, inhaling the fragrance of freshly cut flowers, and glancing at the paintings on the wall. “Are these yours? I mean, did you paint them?”
“Yes. It’s a skill I’m striving to perfect. Just don’t ask me how long I’ve been striving,” he added with a chuckle.
“They’re impressive,” I told him. They were mostly still life and landscapes, but dotted here and there were self-portraits, executed in different tones of light.
The low ceiling with its dark beams interspersed with white-painted sections gave the room a feel of medieval England, right out of the history books.
Then I realized what was missing.
“We’re the only ones here.” I looked to him for confirmation.
He nodded. “Please, sit down. I need to talk to you.”
I did as he asked, and he sat beside me on the wide leather couch. His grave tone sent a shiver through me. Santa took a deep breath.
“First of all, I need to ask for your forgiveness.”
I froze. “Why? What have you done?”
He swallowed. “I lied to you.”
Now I was scared. “Go on.”
His gaze never left mine. “You asked me if I remembered being forty. Well… the truth is… no, I don’t. I have always appeared at the age you see now.”
I frowned. “But… you had to have been born, right?”
He shook his head. “I was created as you see me.”
“But created by whom?”
Santa smiled. “The collective consciousness of the people of your realm. They literally thought me into existence. They needed a figure whose purpose was truly good, selfless… and thus I came into being.” He paused.
“You also asked if I was alone here. I lied again. Yes, there is only me here. All those gifts I deliver? I create them.”
“But how?” Then I groaned. “By magic, of course.”
He nodded.
“Was everything a lie?” My stomach was in knots.
“No. I told you I carried around my regrets, my hopes… I also told you I wanted to be happy, to be in love. Those things were all true.”
I frowned. “And Mrs. Claus?”
He smiled. “There is no Mrs. Claus. She is as big a myth as Rudolph.”
“Now, wait a minute. I’ve seen that movie. You know, the one where you’re a woodcarver, and you have a wife but no children. Then one day you get lost in a snowdrift, and these elves find you, and you—”
He burst into laughter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I wasn’t laughing, however. The idea of him living in this beautiful but lonely place made me want to weep for him.
“But surely… couldn’t you have found yourself a wife in my realm?
Someone to keep you company? I’m sure when you were created, no one decided you should spend your existence alone. That’s just… cruel.”
“Yes, I could have taken a wife—if I’d wanted one.”
Lightbulb.
I pushed out a heavy sigh. “Oh, now I understand. I know why you’re alone.”
He blinked. “You do?”
“Of course. It’s obvious. If you chose a woman to share your life, you’d have to bring her into this realm.
She’d have to leave her mortal world behind, to live with you in immortality.
” My heart went out to him. “And you would hate doing that, knowing she’d be leaving all her family.
She could never explain what was happening. ”
Santa was truly selfless.
He bit his lip. “Well… you’re half right.”
I stared at him. “Which half?”
“You’re right that I could never ask someone to give up their mortal existence to be with me.
Everyone says they’d love to be immortal, but if they stopped to think what that means, they wouldn’t, not really.
A life of endless days, stretching toward infinity?
A person could go mad contemplating such an existence. ”
I gazed at our surroundings. “It’s a beautiful place to go mad in,” I murmured.
“And it would take an exceptional person to be able to cope with it. But if I’m honest, that part about infinity? That would never happen.”
“What do you mean?”
His expression grew serious. “The day will come—and it will probably be sooner than anyone thinks—when I will be redundant.” I gaped at him, and he nodded.
“I was created for a purpose, after all. If the purpose no longer exists, if my role is no longer required, then maybe I too will die, or else be trapped in this realm forever more.” He sighed again.
“I don’t know if that’s true, but I have to acknowledge the possibility.
” He cleared his throat. “And the reason I never chose a wife is simply because…” Brown eyes met mine. “I’d rather have a husband.”