9. The Seventh Day Before Christmas
The Seventh Day Before Christmas
Scene I
[The entrance to Snowspruce Christmas Village.]
Viola peeks in through the employee entrance, looking frustrated.
On the seventh day before Christmas, I realize what my admonishment of leaving the work to the elves meant to the other Santas.
On the plus side, the guys all come early to help their elves set up their stations.
On the negative side, the guys all come early to help their elves set up their stations.
I show up an hour before my shift to find the other Santas already there. Their cars are in the parking lot when I pull up, like big roadblocks on my path to getting changed into my Santa outfit.
Huffing a sigh, I recognize that I’ll just have to get creative.
My Santa outfit, minus my special, extra-bushy beard since I can’t risk someone else grabbing it, is in the laundry room.
Instead of changing in the loft, I’ll have to find a different place to change.
And attach my stomach. And beard, along with the spot of glue.
Oh, how I long for the days I worked in an office.
The morning is crisp and clear, glittered with fake snow and sparkles, as I creep through the Snowspruce Christmas Village on my way to the laundry room.
With the Christmas music playing in the background and my overexaggerated light footsteps, I’m feeling very much like the bad guys from Home Alone , when a voice stops me.
It’s Duke.
Of course, it’s Duke.
“Hey, I was hoping to see you here again,” he calls, jogging towards me.
I hold up the Santa beard between us like a shield. “Seb forgot his beard.”
Duke quirks a smile. It’s a cute little crooked smile that he almost constantly wears. “How considerate of you to drop it off for him.” He takes a step towards me. “Or were you maybe hoping to see me again?”
I take a step back as he takes one towards me. “I was most definitely hoping to not see you,” I answer truthfully.
For a moment, he looks crestfallen, like no one has ever not looked forward to seeing him before.
Which… maybe? Then, he throws his head back and barks a laugh—a spot of warmth in the damp, grey morning.
“You and your brother sure know how to put me in my place.” He looks at me all Duke-ishly. “I love it.”
“Glad to help. Now, where’s the laundry room?” Duke points and I brush past him, hoping to walk fast enough to lose him along the way.
Not that he gets the memo. He jogs up to walk beside me. “He’s really good with kids, your brother.”
“Yeah?” I have no idea how to shake him. Also, why do I even need to shake him? Why is he following me?
“Yeah. He has a real gift with them. Like, he really listens to them and makes getting a picture taken with Santa something special.”
I freeze mid-step. “Do you watch my brother often?”
Duke laughs. “Oddly enough, I do. I’m in the toy workshop, across from the plaza, so I have a clear view. I don’t know. I just find myself watching him. It’s nice to see how happy he makes the kids.”
“It’s nice to see how happy he makes the kids? While you neglect the ones at your own station?”
Duke frowns. “Not quite how I’d put it.”
I shrug. “You know, I have to ask Seb something about Christmas plans with our folks.” I don’t, but I figure it’s a plausible enough excuse to shake him. “So, if you don’t mind…” I gesture a flicking, swooping motion with my hand for him to go away.
“Oh, for sure,” he says, still not leaving my side. “What does your family do for Christmas?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘ Not much, yours?’ Whenever Mal asked me these sorts of questions, it was because he just wanted to share something about himself. Duke, I’m learning, is not Mal. He looks captivated with the thought that I might share my family’s dumb Christmas traditions.
“Most of it is pretty standard.” I smile, thinking about my favourite part.
“It’s silly, but we make our own Christmas ornaments.
On Christmas Eve, we sit around eating cookies that my mom baked, and we sculpt some ornaments out of clay—nothing fancy, just air-dry clay.
We leave them to dry overnight and then paint them after brunch on Christmas morning.
” I take a breath in, reliving the moments.
I can almost hear the Christmas music in the background, feel the laughter in my chest. “I still have every single one I’ve ever made. ”
“I don’t think that’s silly at all.”
“Thanks,” I reply. Only Duke’s puzzled reaction makes me realize how silly it is to thank someone just because they didn’t invalidate something I hold dear.
“Do you have any traditions that you do with your family?”
“Oh man,” Duke says, breaking out into a wide grin and rubbing his hands together.
“My family is real big on Christmas. They all live up north, so lots of snow and a little redneck. On Christmas day, we hold something called the Santa’s Reindeer Games.
It’s done entirely on snowmobiles, usually while drinking.
..” He frowns. “I actually don’t know if I can legally talk about it after the incident with the river and the blowtorch.
” He smiles again—his little crooked smile that makes my heart melt.
“Really though, I just love seeing everybody. Sitting around a bonfire, drinking hot chocolate, singing Christmas carols, being with family.”
Duke goes uncharacteristically silent.
“You okay?” I ask, un-aloof despite myself.
“Yeah, I’m just going to miss it this year. I’m saving up and can’t afford the ticket home. Plus, I have a gig that starts right in the new year.”
There is something devastating about seeing Duke sad. It makes me want to reach out and hug him.
Or kiss him.
Or do other things with him.
I settle for patting the side of his arm. “I know how that is. I had to miss last year with my family.”
More accurately, Mal didn’t want to visit my family. He wanted to go to Mexico over the holidays. I paid for the trip, and he said he’d pay me back with a vacation this Christmas, since he’d be a full doctor by now.
Then again, Mal said he’d make up for a lot of things once he was a doctor.
“It’s the worst,” Duke commiserates.
“Agreed.”
We sit there in a comfortable silence before I gesture to the laundry. “So, are you going to let me leave now?”
This time, he lets me go. “See you tomorrow, Sebastian’s sister.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s Viola—and, no, you won’t.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Then why did you just give me your name?”
Viola walks into the laundry room, closing the door firmly behind her. She takes a breath and leans back against the door.
Duke looks at the door before walking off to the loft.