3. The Tenth Day Before Christmas
The Tenth Day Before Christmas
Scene I
[A Christmas village.]
Enter Viola in Santa’s attire.
On the tenth day before Christmas, I stroll through the little lanes of Snowspruce Christmas Village before it’s open to the public.
The fake snow crunches under my booted feet as I walk on the cobblestones.
As I go, I can’t help but get swept up in the nostalgia of the place.
It’s somewhere Sebastian and I went often as kids.
I always wanted to go as an adult, I practically begged Mal to go with me, but he told me to grow up.
I wasn’t a kid, and I should stop acting like one.
He was probably right. Maybe if I acted like the almost thirty-year-old I am, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
This situation being impersonating my brother, impersonating Santa.
Oh, the shame.
On my way to the HR cottage, I pass a series of cute little buildings: Santa’s workshop, a candy store, a toy-building workshop, the gift shop, a chocolatery among others. Each little cottage is even cuter than the last with its faux-candy decorations and blanket of snow on the roof.
I know the snow is fake, as are the candy cane lampposts and peppermint clocks, but it still warms my heart.
We don’t get much snow here on the West Coast, usually one or two days of slush amid the endless gray drizzle of rain, so to see an actual snowy path in the days before Christmas just feels right.
Oddly enough, this whole place feels right.
Aside from me.
With my oversized beard, padded belly, and huge boots (that fit just right), I feel like a fraud. A Santa fraud, which is a special kind of evil. Who impersonates Santa?
Aside from thousands of seasonal employees, I guess.
Oddly enough, that thought gives me enough courage to walk into the cottage. Here goes nothing.
“Hello,” I say in a ridiculous impression of a Santa voice. Not that it’s much worse than Sebastian’s Santa voice. I think if we’re being totally honest, we can admit that all Santa voices are ridiculous.
A woman behind a desk wearing a Mrs. Claus-type costume eyes me over. She does not look jolly.
“Sebastian Pearson?” the woman asks.
It’s my first test. Seb assured me that I looked mannish enough under the beard and belly padding. It was the answer that I was looking for, but it still stung.
It’s funny—in the not at all funny sense—that my tall frame is finally working out for me. Throughout my life, I’ve been asked to help people move more often than I’ve been asked out for dates, but finally it’s paying off.
I guess.
“That’s me,” I answer in my low Santa voice.
The woman rolls her eyes.
“Ignore the nametag,” she says, pointing to the nametag on her chest that reads Holly the Elf. “I’m Maria. Your boss and superior.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, still in my Santa voice.
“You don’t have to do the whole Santa voice when you’re not in front of guests.”
I shrug. “Helps me stay in character.”
The way that woman sighs with her whole body. Rubbing her temple, looking out at me through slitted eyes, she shakes her head. “I thought Rick said you weren’t an actor.”
Rick, right, Rick.
Rick is the reason this whole farce has a chance at succeeding.
The other day, in true Sebastian fashion, he got offered a job while he was visiting here on a date.
He got to talking with Rick, the owner, and mentioned how he was looking for a job.
As luck would have it, Rick was looking for someone to work there just until Christmas to help deal with the unprecedented surge of visitors.
Within three minutes, Sebastian had the job locked down, which was actually a little on the long side for him in terms of job interviews.
A couple of days later, Rick messaged Sebastian to let him know he had to be gone for medical reasons, but that the offer still stood. Thus, everyone here knows that someone new is starting today, but not what they look like. The situation is ripe for twin shenanigans.
“Sit down.” Maria gestures to the chair opposite her. “Have you filled out the paperwork I emailed over?”
“Almost,” I hedge. It’s true—it’s all filled out except for the part that says name—which seems like a fairly important question to answer.
Since there’s only one pay period, I’m hoping to submit it after I’m done working here, so that I don’t technically lie on legal documents.
I squirm in my seat. I don’t necessarily feel great about that.
“And the criminal record check? It’s a bit of a formality since you won’t ever be alone with kids, but we like to be thorough.”
I squirm harder. Maria eyes me, so I adjust my belly, trying to look like I’m just trying to get comfortable under all this velvet.
“Here’s a hard copy,” I say, pulling out another set of documents from my bag.
“I had one done a couple of weeks ago for… this other thing I was going to do”—I choke up slightly with the memory of yet another thing the breakup took from me.
I clear my throat with a Santa cough—“I’ll have them forward a digital copy to you, but hopefully this is okay for the time being. ”
Maria nods, her eyes skimming over the document, even where I strategically smudged my first name.
Under my Santa suit, the thickest piece of clothing known to man, I go cold.
It suddenly hits me that this isn’t like Sebastian taking my place in gym class to pass the fitness test, or me watching his girlfriend’s play while wearing his clothes so he could go surfing.
There’s a good chance this is fraud, or something close enough to it.
I could be in serious legal trouble if I get found out.
But, as Maria places my criminal record check into her filing cabinet, I realize I’m officially in this. There’s no going back now. I can’t very well reach in there, steal the document, and flee through the village with my beard flying through the air.
Probably.
No, no, it’s definitely too late. I’m not much of a runner.
Besides, Sebastian needs this. Truthfully, I need this too. Seb was right when he said I didn’t have any savings after supporting Mal for so long.
Maria folds her hands over her desk and looks at me. She sucks on her teeth in disproval. “Now about this,” she says, nodding her head at, well, me. “It won’t do.”
From cold to hot, now I’m sweating under my suit. It won’t do?
“Oh?”
“This whole thing.” She pauses. “You can’t be walking in from the parking lot and through the village in costume again. If some little kid sees Santa driving up in a hatchback, it’ll ruin the Christmas illusion.”
“Right.” Then, for some unknown reason, I add, “Ho, ho, ho.”
Again, I shrug. How does Sebastian pull off nonchalant? I’m trying, but I’m just giving off lunatic vibes.
Maria sighs. “Every morning, pick up your Santa suit from the laundry, off to the side of this building.” She gestures, looking bored, like she’s done this a million times before.
“Drop it off at the same place at the end of every shift for freshening. In the morning you can change in the Santa loft.”
I freeze. “The Santa loft?”
Maria stares me down. Oh god, is this confrontation? I don’t do confrontation. It makes me cry.
“Didn’t Rick show you anything when he hired you—without even bothering to consult me, I might add?
” I don’t say anything because, who knows?
Maybe Rick did. Maybe Rick gave him a personal tour, and they traded friendship bracelets upon its completion.
Even if they did, I doubt Sebastian would have passed it on.
Luckily, the question seems to be rhetorical.
“No, of course he didn’t,” she mutters, putting a ‘Closed to Clean up Reindeer Poop’ sign on her desk.
“He was just thinking about his appendix-vacation. No reason for the owner to stick around during our busiest time…”
She stalks to the back of the room, towards a back exit, still muttering to herself. I scurry after her.
With her hand on the doorknob, she spins to look at me, pointing a finger in my face. “Remember, any time you are outside an employee building and wearing the beard, you act as if little eyes are on you. You got that?”
Now that we were both standing, I can see I have about seven inches on her and she has about thirty years on me. Still, she’s terrifying.
I nod fervently.
She just narrows her eyes.
“Ho, ho, ho?” I try again.
“That’s right.”
Exit Maria.
Viola follows her, after throwing one last glance at the filing cabinet.