Chapter 5 Dakota
DAKOTA
Everything was coming together all at once.
I had someone interested in selling me milk.
They had said they hadn't decided on whether they were looking for a full-time, consistent buyer or not, but that was fine with me.
At least I had something to get through the holidays, and he had a full liter for me already.
Had Santa heard my wish? Maybe. Or maybe it was finally time for things to start going my way.
I'd taken such a huge risk coming here, starting my life all over again.
It was nice to think that everything was starting to fall into place.
The milk supplier told me he’d text me the time and place as soon as he figured out his work schedule.
I was fine with that. Not everybody had nine-to-fives like I did, and besides, nothing could make me feel bad about today.
It was my day with Santa. We’d texted back and forth for the Santa arrangements, and it came together really easily.
I managed to dodge the age question, letting him know there would only be one person.
He probably assumed it was one child, but he'd figure that out soon enough. It wasn’t as if I lied.
The manager of the shelter had pointed him out to me when I won. I could see him being an amazing Santa, but I also recognized him, and I couldn't pinpoint from where. It was just something so familiar about him, familiar and comforting.
I had a little tree I put up, some slice-and-bake cookies I'd thrown in the oven were cooling on the rack, and, much to his initial dismay, I had Mr. Whiskers shut in the bedroom.
I wasn't sure if Santa would be okay with having a pet here, and as much as I loved Mr. Whiskers, him sleeping on the bed for a couple of hours wasn't going to do him any harm.
Besides, I promised him extra catnip if he was good.
Unsure how Little I could go, I put my favorite Christmas jams on.
It was a two-piece set, which usually wasn't my favorite kind, but they were covered with little itty-bitty elves, all in different poses and in some state of causing mischief.
One was holding mistletoe over Santa. One was snatching a cookie.
Another was peeking inside a present…all the normal hijinks you'd expect from me.
The jams were great and comfy and warm. The only problem was they didn't have feeties.
A notification from the milk app went off, and I ran so fast I nearly toppled over to get my phone. It was the person I was buying from, just like I hoped.
Can you pick it up in an hour? I just pumped, and I'd hate to put it in the fridge only to have it leave and go right back into another fridge.
I wasn't sure that mattered, but it was sweet that he cared about giving me the best product.
How far away are you again?
He told me, and when I did the math, it got me back here with a solid fifteen minutes before Santa would arrive. Perfect.
I'm on my way.
I threw jeans over my jams, wrapped a scarf around my neck before zipping up my coat, and after a quick glance in the mirror to make sure I looked fully dressed, off I went to the meet-up location.
My jaw nearly hit the floor when he turned around and I saw who it was.
It was the man who was donating his time as Santa, and he was even wearing his Santa pants, avoiding any second-guessing on my part.
"Hi, I brought cash," I said.
Then he did exactly what I needed him to, although at the time, I assumed he was simply being silly. "Need some milk for when Santa comes for story time?"
I grabbed the jar and hugged it close. "Ummmmm…something like…yes?" So much for speaking eloquently or in complete thoughts. I held the money out for him. "You're still coming, right? I won." I’d never forgive myself if I ruined this now.
"Of course, sweet boy, I'm still coming."
It wasn't "baby boy" like I longed to hear, but "sweet boy" did something to me.
"Okay, gotta go!" And off I raced. It was not my shining moment, but at least when Santa walked in, he’d know what he was getting into. Sort of. The signs were there in both directions. In either case, he was still coming, and that was all that currently mattered.
When I got home, I filled my smallest bottle with milk and put the rest in the fridge, barely getting my outer clothes off before sucking away at it.
It was everything I needed…a bit sweet and still warm from his body.
I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to be downing a bottle, knowing he was coming, but I bought it, right? It was fine.
He knocked on the door a few minutes later, his Santa hat was on and a bag was slung over his shoulder. He acted as if nothing weird was going on. "Ho ho ho! I'm here to read a story to Dakota."
"I'm Dakota." I went to raise my hand like I was in school, then realized the bottle was still in it and quickly shoved it behind my back.
He reached out his white-gloved hand, tapped my nose. "No need to hide from me, Dakota. Santa sees all." Then he walked in, shutting the door behind him. "Where would you like me to read?"
I pointed to the recliner.
"Is anybody else going to listen to my story, Dakota? Or is this just for you?"
"Just me, Santa." I wished I had Little friends, but so far in this city, I didn’t have so much as an acquaintance of any kind, much less a friend I could share my Little side with.
"Do you have any friends who want to come? Maybe a teddy or a froggy?"
Just then, Mr. Whiskers decided to meow.
"...or a cat?”
“Is that okay?" I was thrilled to let Mr. Whiskers out. I felt guilty about shutting the door in the first place.
"Of course it is. Did you get a cat from the shelter?"
"That's how I saw the jar, Santa. I bought all the raffle tickets. Thirty-five."
"You must have really wanted Santa to come and read to you."
My head bobbed up and down like one of those bobblehead dolls. "I did, Santa."
"Well, go let Mr. Whiskers out. And if you have any friends who want to come and be the audience, they can." Then he leaned in close. "I won't even charge you the extra ten dollars for any over five."
I couldn't help but giggle. Five minutes later, every stuffie I had was sitting on the couch ready to listen to Santa, and I sat on the floor right at his feet, the nearly empty bottle of his milk in my hand as he opened his sack and pulled out his first book.
Mr. Whiskers stood in the doorway, unsure whether he wanted to participate in the activities or not.
"This is one of my favorite books," he said. "It's not really a Christmas book, but it's about a frog who's about to go play in the snow."
I‘d never seen the book before, but it was one of the funniest I had ever heard, and I found myself laughing and laughing as he read.
From there, he went to a more traditional book, The Night Before Christmas, because how could you not?
And this time, as he read to me, I drank from the bottle until it was all gone.
Then, just when everything was perfect and wonderful and I was about to offer him cookies, Santa's phone alarm went off.
"It seems my hour is up, Dakota." He ruffled my hair, and I didn't know what came over me. Between the milk and feeling Little for the first time in so long, and the overwhelming sense of acceptance, when he told me he had to leave, I was sad, and tears started to flow.
"Don't be sad. Santa can come back." He said it with such sincerity, but he was Santa right now, not Niko, so I didn’t dare accept his words as fact. They were pretend, and I could pretend, too.
"I know...I'm just... I haven't slept since I moved here. I couldn't find any milkies, and now that I have some, I just..."
"Oh, sweet boy. When did you move here?"
I told him, and I told him about how I was on all the waitlists.
"I'm not doing that to make you choose me to be the only buyer.
" I’d heard that was a real problem on the app.
Some people tried to pull at your heartstrings to get the milk, and it was gross, especially when it was made up…
something that apparently happened often.
"Oh, sweet boy, this is not a negotiation over our sales. This is Santa, and you know what Santa does best?" He rubbed his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the tears.
"Delivering packages?"
“You were so close. What Santa does best is making good little boys and girls happy by giving them presents. And right now, I think the present you need is some more milk and someone to tuck you into bed so you can sleep."
"Really, Santa?"
"Really. Would you be okay with that?" He wasn’t pushing. He was offering.
I held out the bottle. It was empty.There was no way I was turning that offer down.
"Did you want me to take it from the jar, or did you want to have it straight from Santa?"
This could not be happening.
Everything I wished for was coming true.
Santa might not be my Daddy, but there was everything "Daddy" about being a Santa, and he was offering me milk straight from the tap and to tuck me into bed.
If I'd met him any other way, I'd probably have been concerned.
Wasn't this how serial killer movies started?
But I met him at the animal shelter, and he had a cat, based on the cat condo he won.
Plus, all the workers there seemed to know him. He was safe. And I really needed this.
"Thank you, Santa."
We went to my room, and he had me climb into bed under the covers. He sat above the covers on the other side, opening up his suit. "Here you go. Snuggle in however you like best."
"Can you lie down, Santa?" I nearly called him Daddy. I wanted to call him Daddy.
“Of course.” He lay flat on his back, and I brought my lips to his chest. I licked a circle around his nipple and then latched on for a long pull.
A sweet river of milk pooled in my mouth.
As amazing as it tasted from my bottle, it was nothing compared to this.
I didn't remember switching sides, or if I even did.
After a few more draws of milk, the world went black as I fell asleep, not waking up until the next morning.
I was sad that Santa wasn't there when I woke up. But what did I expect? He wasn't my Daddy. He was just a nice guy taking care of me because I needed it. Nothing more. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself so I didn't get too excited that I might’ve just found a Daddy.