2. Thirsty
2
Thirsty
Winter wonderlands could be draining for even the most resilient of mall elves, and after another long shift, I was beat.
A parent jiggled their fussy baby, rearranging the bib protecting their fancy festive wear, and glared at me. “How much longer?”
“We’ll see.” My cheeks ached despite the rosy hue I dusted across them this morning. “I’d guess around fifteen–”
“ Another fifteen minutes?”
I shifted my weight from one throbbing foot to another, smiling wider as soon as the baby peeked at me. The pom-pom on my hat and sparkles on my lashes always captivated little ones. I leaned forward and placed my hands on my knees. “Santa’s a good listener, so when you go up, be ready to–”
“Spare me,” the parent muttered, jiggling their kid again. “We’ll be in and out in a minute. What are all these other people doing?”
Enjoying the magic, probably.
But I couldn’t say that to anybody. I couldn’t say much at all. My throat was as dry as the fake snow next to the red satin carpet they rolled out for Santa. I hadn’t had anything to drink since the milk with my cereal this morning. How was I supposed to conduct another sing-along if I could barely croak out a greeting?
Flashing the parent an apologetic smile, I turned around and snuck a bit of crushed candy cane into my mouth. A little sugar could perk me up. Or at least coat my throat.
“Sugarplum?” Santa called.
I sucked in a breath to answer–and promptly choked on the jagged candy cane crumble. Pounding my fist against my chest, I wheezed as discreetly as I could to dislodge or at least melt the obstruction. I hurried over to Santa’s makeshift sleigh throne and clasped my hands behind me, swallowing around candy shards. “Yes, Santa?”
We had two Santas on rotation. Today’s was Frosty Santa, so nicknamed for his authentic silver-white facial hair and icy demeanor.
He didn’t smile at the elves or ho, ho, ho at any of the kids. My coworkers thought he took this job too seriously, but I figured he was just conserving his energy. And cheek muscles. I rubbed my aching face in sympathy.
Frosty Santa sat atop his sleigh throne, his discerning eyebrows raised in judgment. His brown eyes didn’t exactly twinkle as he bounced a child on his meaty thigh. “Would you check on Dasher for me?”
That was code for 'take a break.' Finally . “I’d love to. I’ll get some carrots.” I spun around, my polyester uniform swishing out like the velvet skirt under a Christmas tree.
The next kid in line tugged his mom’s hand, his eyes wide as I skipped by. “Is she going to feed the reindeer?”
“Maybe,” the mom answered.
The kid’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool.”
I hid my smile and ducked behind a tinsel tree where we had our nook for candy cane boxes and various other things. Petting reindeer would be neat. What wasn’t to love about those big snouts, fuzzy chests, and majestic antlers? They might not smell great, but most people didn’t, either, and we still liked hanging out with them.
Chestnut chased me behind the tree. “Hey, wait.” He tugged on the end of my hat, drawing pressure on my bobby pins, hair, and scalp.
“Oww, what?” I swatted him away and pouted.
“Do you think you could get me a coffee at The Bern? I’ll send you the money,” he said.
I righted my hat so the head elf wouldn’t ding me for violating dress code while I was still on the floor. “Sure, but when will you have time to drink it?”
“Trust me, I’ll–”
A parent shook their bags at us and a child’s wails pierced my ears.
“Go,” Chestnut hissed. The implied sentiment of ‘save yourself’ almost made me laugh.
I bolted to the break room, tossed my hat in the cubby, and yanked my winter jacket over my uniform. My elf-ness was hidden enough for my marathon to the front of the mall. There was no time to waste. I pocketed my cold sandwich and booked it for the coffee shop. Hopefully, mall security would recognize me and assume I wasn’t on the run from anything. They checked our bags after every shift, but I was on the Nice List where they barely glanced at my stuff this year. I wanted that bonus, after all. Of course, sometimes, I couldn’t help being a little naughty… But I only danced around the rules. Like hiding a water bottle under the Christmas tree or sneaking a peek at my phone during the shift. I didn’t commit crimes or anything.
At the coffee shop, the line to the counter was all the way to the door. I made the most of the wait and snuck a bite of sandwich, my nose wrinkling at the stench of over roasted coffee beans.
A little boy peeked around the line and tugged his mother’s coat. “Hey, Mommy, isn’t that the lady who was supposed to feed the reindeer?”
Sweat dripped along the slope of my back. This winter coat and polyester costume combo wasn’t doing me any favors. How did the kid recognize me all covered up? There were millions of long-haired girls in the world. The peppermint stockings and glittery makeup must’ve given me away.
“Maybe she’s getting him a treat,” the mother said.
By the time I reached the cashier, I was a mess. Crumbs stuck to my fingers and I didn’t want to suck them clean or wipe them off on my jacket. A used plastic bag poked out my pocket. Hopefully, that didn’t ruin the magic for the little kid, who was still watching me with rapt attention as I stepped up to give my order.
I had to fix this.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my parched mouth. “One carrot cake, one hot chocolate, and one coffee, please.”
“What sizes?” the cashier droned, gesturing to the stacked cups to their left.
“Small hot chocolate, normal coffee, please.” I didn’t know exactly what Chestnut wanted, so hopefully, a handful of creamers and sugars would be enough to customize his order.
“What’s your name?” The cashier tapped a few buttons, their ill-fitted Santa hat slipping down their brow.
I glanced at the kid behind me and chewed my lip. Would they remember my elf name?
Sighing, the cashier popped a hip.
“Sugarplum,” I decided. My elf name suited me fine.
The cashier rolled their eyes, then punched it in and took payment. “We’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“Thank you.” I put a few wrinkled dollar bills and a candy cane into the tip jar with its fancy red ribbon, hoping it’d spread some holiday cheer and make up for the weird name.
The little boy from earlier talked loud enough I could hear him even as I passed the coffee bean grinder. “Reindeer eat carrot cake? That’s awesome . I want a piece.”
His mother patted his shoulder. “Only if you’re good. We still have three more stores. Do you promise to play your games and be good for me?”
“Yeah.” The kid trotted over to me. “Do they let you hang out with the reindeer?”
“They’re busy training for the big day. However, I know from our snack sessions that they’re very nice and strong,” I said, flexing. “They’ll probably stop by your house on Christmas, but only if you’re sleeping. Reindeer can be shy, like me.”
“Really?” The kid's eyes widened.
I made chit-chat for another minute, enjoying the brief, grateful smile of the parent who just bribed her kid for a few more minutes of peace. They got their order and left, giving me more room at the pickup area to explore.
The seasonal cup sleeves stacked by the creamers came in an array of bold colors. I flipped through the different designs: snowflakes, stars, sleighs…
A deep voice dripping with sarcasm sounded from across the counter. “Oh, good. I was hoping someone would touch every single sleeve. Please, unstack everything. Not like anyone else needs them.” A hand with black-marker-coated nails started collecting my personal gallery.
Gasping, I drew my elbows tight to my sides. “Sorry.”
The barista wiped his terse brow, dark brown hair curling out from under an olive green cap.
Wait, was this the same guy who saw my wipeout in the parking lot? The one I accidentally bombed with a snowball?
I froze, tensing under his scrutiny. Up close, this man was the most beautiful, intimidating barista I’d ever seen. He had cheekbones that could’ve been hand-crafted by the world’s best dollmaker. Light glinted off his lip and brow piercings with the gloss of ornaments on a Christmas tree. His saggy olive cap had one of those thin paper New Year’s Eve crowns tucked into the inseam. He tilted his chin up, powerful and fair. He was a prince. A king?
And wow, I was thirsty .