Santa's Secret

“So tell me what your daughter likes.”

“You,” I tell her unabashedly.

“Excuse me?”

I chuckle and take one of my hands out from underneath the table so I can fidget with the napkin. My other though, it’s still under the table, my fingers still brushing against her knee every chance I get. “My daughter is obsessed with you. She yelled at me after she heard I pulled you over. It’s as if I ruined her life. Funny thing is, I had no idea she even knew who you were until the other day, but she hasn’t stopped talking about you since.”

“Well, I’ll have to make sure you look like a hero to her then, won’t I?”

I’m at a loss for words, which seems to be okay since our food has arrived. Honestly, I’m thankful for the quick service. Eating gives my mouth something to do other than try to say things I shouldn’t, like telling her she’s beautiful, that everyone in Ramona Falls loves her, that my wife was a big fan and used to ask me questions as her death neared, and whether I ever thought about Delaney. Truth is, I hadn’t. She was so far from my mind and just a part of my history.

No sooner than the waiter puts our plates down, is her hand reaching across the table. I laugh, relishing in the fact that some things never change. It feels good to be out like this, with her. To be able to let go some of the stress I’m feeling and possibly enjoy shopping, knowing she’s going to be by my side later.

“This is so good,” she says as she takes a bite of the onion ring. “Like, I haven’t had one of these in years.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone is always watching. They’re waiting for people like me to screw up so they can capitalize on it.”

I pick up my burger and take a few bites. Random pieces of bacon fall onto my plate and before I can grab them, she snatches them up. “What’s the worst thing they’ve said about you that was true?”

Laney stabs her salad with her fork as if it’s offended her somehow. “That I can’t keep a man,” she says, sighing.

I’m not sure what the right response is, but I reach across the table and rest my hand on hers. “Somehow I don’t think that’s true.” I know it isn’t because she could’ve easily kept me.

Laney’s eyes shoot up and connect with mine. I smile, but she doesn’t. I start to remove my hand from her, realizing I’ve overstepped my boundaries, only to find her fingers interlocking with mine.

As soon as our waiter steps to our table, she pulls her hand back. I try not to let the sudden movement mean anything. I get it. She has appearances to keep up, and I don’t fit the mold, which when I think about it, is fine. Laney and I are in two very different places in our lives, and will likely never be on the same page.

Nine

Delaney

“So besides me, what else does Holly like?” I ask as Fish and I walk through the aisle of a department store. When we first walked in, I went right for the toddler section and started piling things into my arms. It wasn’t until he asked who I was shopping for did it hit me that I have absolutely no clue what size a seven year old is. He was gracious enough to steer me in the right direction, but I quickly found the clothes aren’t the same. They’re not as soft and fun. These designers are trying to make these little girls look like teens.

“Wonder Woman, Barbies,” he says as he checks the tag of the outfit I’m holding up. He grimaces and shakes his head. “She likes to draw, color. I don’t know, I guess she’s your average second grader.”

“When I was in second grade I had my dad build me a stage in the garage so I could perform for the neighborhood.” I shrug. I thought I was normal until my elementary classmates started making fun of me. Dolls only interested me if they were part of my productions.

Aiden laughs. “Do you ever think about directing?”

I shake my head. “I love what I do, but being behind a camera really isn’t my thing.”

“But you thought about it in high school. I remember you mentioned it one time in passing, something about how the drama teacher wasn’t listening to your direction.”

“Plays are different,” I tell him.

He leans against the rack, bringing himself closer to me. “What about while you’re here then? The kids will do their holiday play for the festival. You could direct that.”

I look at Aiden as if he has two heads. He must be crazy thinking I could direct a bunch of kids in a production when I can barely keep my life on track. I put the outfit that I’ve been holding back on the rack and step away. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much that Aiden suggested this. Maybe because deep down, I’d love to direct a play or two in my spare time, even act on Broadway under the bright lights with a live audience where I can see judgment on their faces. Call me crazy, but seeing whether or not I move people or evoke some sort of emotion would be a highlight of my career.

Aiden reaches for my hand, halting my fleeing feet. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all.” No, you said everything right, but I’m so lost in my own head to actually make something like this work. But in the few short seconds I thought about it, I’ve realized it’s something I want to do.

“Are you sure because back there…” he turns and looks over his shoulder. Surprisingly, I do too, hoping to find a shadow of myself, pointing and mocking me for being so indecisive and closed-minded.

I take a deep breath and look around. A few people are staring, but thankfully, they don’t have their phones out. “Is the festival still three days?”