Jeanetta tucked her four
year old Gavin into bed Christmas Eve and kissed his forehead. Her
boyfriend Brooks was enjoying a cigar in the kitchen. She fingered
the branches of their imitation white Christmas tree with the antique
glass ornaments as she passed.
She’d invited over her best girlfriend Andrea and her four little girls for dinner. After dinner, her brother Satch had arrived dressed as Santa Claus with a red sack he’d sewn himself thrown over his shoulder. He whispered to Jeanetta as Andrea ushered the kids into the living room that he’d been to the mall that day and they’d had these suits on sale in the Halloween Shop, so he’d come up with the idea on the spur of the moment. Jeanetta laughed. Her brother had made the perfect Santa Claus, six foot two and three hundred fifty pounds of man that he was.
Jeanetta brushed Brooks’ hand with hers as she sat down at the table next to him. “I told you it would be fun.” she said teasingly. She held her head in her hands. “I think somebody spiked the eggnog.”
Brooks laughed. “Was I not supposed to?” Jeanetta shook her head. “Come on, Sweet Cheeks, I’ll take you to bed.”
The next morning the sun shining through the bedroom window woke Jeanetta from a sound sleep. The sounds of Christmas carols made her smile, and she imagined Brooks must have been in a festive mood for a change. She sat up and stretched. This was not her bedroom. The bare wooden rafters gleamed with ribbons of garland; silver and gold tinsel hung from every beam. She looked down. Her T-shirt and shorts had been replaced with red wool “feety” pajamas. She immediately rolled up the sleeves to cool herself down. She was allergic to wool, but for some reason she was not itching in these surprisingly comfortable pajamas. She peered out the tiny window of the room.
On the snow-whitened ground below her, people were bustling all around. They were dressed as elves and carrying boxes and bags on red Radio Flyer wagons toward what strongly resembled an air field off to the left. Panic set in. Had she lost her mind? She found some stairs and scurried down to the first floor. A little old woman hovered over an old wood stove and offered her cocoa as she came down the stairs. “Where am I?” she asked hesitantly.
“Why, same place you’ve been for the last hundred years, my darling.” exclaimed the little old woman. “The royal family cottage at the North Pole.” As the woman turned around, Jeannette notice that it was her mother, although aged severely.
“Momma? What’s going on? What’s the joke?” Jeanetta sat down at the little wooden table. “Where are my cigarettes?”
The little old woman, her mother, laughed. “Why, Jeanetta, darling, we don’t smoke at the North Pole. Only Santa does, and only once in a while, on his pipe.”
“Santa?” Jeanetta lay her head down in her arms at the table. “What’s going on?”
At that moment, the big jolly elf himself came bursting through the door, with her best friend Andrea on his arm, or so she looked like Andrea, if Andrea had white hair rolled into a bun, and little wire rimmed glasses, which she did not. “How’s the morning, sis?” Santa Claus asked. Sis? Jeanetta shook her head. On closer observation, Jeanetta discovered the king of the North Pole was in fact her brother, Satch.
“Ok, Satch.” she began to laugh. “I think you’ve taken this Santa thing a little too far. Where is Brooks? And Gavin?”
“In the workshop, I guess.” Santa said with a grin. “How’s those cookies coming along, Mother?”
Jeanetta left the happy reunion in the tiny kitchen, pulled on a pair of boots and a coat she guessed were hers, and wandered out the door. She followed a group of elves pulling an empty wagon and found the workshop. She had to duck her head to get in the door. Gavin sat at a little table playing with a toy train. “Mommy!” he squealed. “How did you do it? Uncle Satch is Santa Claus and we all live at the North Pole and Brooksey is playing with me and the elves gave me cookies and milk. You must have been a very good girl this year!”
Jeanetta hugged him, still baffled. As she turned, Brooks was returning to the room with four little toy cars, hand carved out of cedar wood. “Here we go, Squeeker!” he called to Gavin.
Jeanetta felt faint.
“What’s the matter, Sweet Cheeks?” her boyfriend asked. “You look a little peaked.” Jeanetta shook her head. “You okay?” She shook her head again.
“Mommy, look!” Gavin demanded. He raced to her side and began pulling on her arm. “Mommy, you have to see this. Santa gave me piles of presents!”
“Huh?” was all she could muster before she fell to the floor of the workshop.
“Jeanetta!” Brooks yelled, shaking her. “Jeanetta, wake up.” Gavin was still pulling on her arm.
“Mommy, you have to see this.” he said excitedly.
Jeanetta mustered all of her courage and opened her eyes. She was back in her room, Brooks by her side in her own bed. Alarmed, she jumped up and raced down the stairs. It was her house, her living room, with her imitation white tree covered in antique ornaments. “It must have been a dream.” she said to herself. Gavin and Brooks had followed her. “You spiked the eggnog.” she said, slapping Brooks lightly on the arm. He grinned. She sat down on the floor of the living room and watched as Gavin tore into the presents.
“Mommy, look!” he squealed with delight. She looked. In his tiny hand were four little toy cars, hand carved out of cedar wood. She laughed harder than she’d ever laughed before.
“Maybe you didn’t spike the eggnog after all.” She said to Brooks. He only smiled.
She’d invited over her best girlfriend Andrea and her four little girls for dinner. After dinner, her brother Satch had arrived dressed as Santa Claus with a red sack he’d sewn himself thrown over his shoulder. He whispered to Jeanetta as Andrea ushered the kids into the living room that he’d been to the mall that day and they’d had these suits on sale in the Halloween Shop, so he’d come up with the idea on the spur of the moment. Jeanetta laughed. Her brother had made the perfect Santa Claus, six foot two and three hundred fifty pounds of man that he was.
Jeanetta brushed Brooks’ hand with hers as she sat down at the table next to him. “I told you it would be fun.” she said teasingly. She held her head in her hands. “I think somebody spiked the eggnog.”
Brooks laughed. “Was I not supposed to?” Jeanetta shook her head. “Come on, Sweet Cheeks, I’ll take you to bed.”
The next morning the sun shining through the bedroom window woke Jeanetta from a sound sleep. The sounds of Christmas carols made her smile, and she imagined Brooks must have been in a festive mood for a change. She sat up and stretched. This was not her bedroom. The bare wooden rafters gleamed with ribbons of garland; silver and gold tinsel hung from every beam. She looked down. Her T-shirt and shorts had been replaced with red wool “feety” pajamas. She immediately rolled up the sleeves to cool herself down. She was allergic to wool, but for some reason she was not itching in these surprisingly comfortable pajamas. She peered out the tiny window of the room.
On the snow-whitened ground below her, people were bustling all around. They were dressed as elves and carrying boxes and bags on red Radio Flyer wagons toward what strongly resembled an air field off to the left. Panic set in. Had she lost her mind? She found some stairs and scurried down to the first floor. A little old woman hovered over an old wood stove and offered her cocoa as she came down the stairs. “Where am I?” she asked hesitantly.
“Why, same place you’ve been for the last hundred years, my darling.” exclaimed the little old woman. “The royal family cottage at the North Pole.” As the woman turned around, Jeannette notice that it was her mother, although aged severely.
“Momma? What’s going on? What’s the joke?” Jeanetta sat down at the little wooden table. “Where are my cigarettes?”
The little old woman, her mother, laughed. “Why, Jeanetta, darling, we don’t smoke at the North Pole. Only Santa does, and only once in a while, on his pipe.”
“Santa?” Jeanetta lay her head down in her arms at the table. “What’s going on?”
At that moment, the big jolly elf himself came bursting through the door, with her best friend Andrea on his arm, or so she looked like Andrea, if Andrea had white hair rolled into a bun, and little wire rimmed glasses, which she did not. “How’s the morning, sis?” Santa Claus asked. Sis? Jeanetta shook her head. On closer observation, Jeanetta discovered the king of the North Pole was in fact her brother, Satch.
“Ok, Satch.” she began to laugh. “I think you’ve taken this Santa thing a little too far. Where is Brooks? And Gavin?”
“In the workshop, I guess.” Santa said with a grin. “How’s those cookies coming along, Mother?”
Jeanetta left the happy reunion in the tiny kitchen, pulled on a pair of boots and a coat she guessed were hers, and wandered out the door. She followed a group of elves pulling an empty wagon and found the workshop. She had to duck her head to get in the door. Gavin sat at a little table playing with a toy train. “Mommy!” he squealed. “How did you do it? Uncle Satch is Santa Claus and we all live at the North Pole and Brooksey is playing with me and the elves gave me cookies and milk. You must have been a very good girl this year!”
Jeanetta hugged him, still baffled. As she turned, Brooks was returning to the room with four little toy cars, hand carved out of cedar wood. “Here we go, Squeeker!” he called to Gavin.
Jeanetta felt faint.
“What’s the matter, Sweet Cheeks?” her boyfriend asked. “You look a little peaked.” Jeanetta shook her head. “You okay?” She shook her head again.
“Mommy, look!” Gavin demanded. He raced to her side and began pulling on her arm. “Mommy, you have to see this. Santa gave me piles of presents!”
“Huh?” was all she could muster before she fell to the floor of the workshop.
“Jeanetta!” Brooks yelled, shaking her. “Jeanetta, wake up.” Gavin was still pulling on her arm.
“Mommy, you have to see this.” he said excitedly.
Jeanetta mustered all of her courage and opened her eyes. She was back in her room, Brooks by her side in her own bed. Alarmed, she jumped up and raced down the stairs. It was her house, her living room, with her imitation white tree covered in antique ornaments. “It must have been a dream.” she said to herself. Gavin and Brooks had followed her. “You spiked the eggnog.” she said, slapping Brooks lightly on the arm. He grinned. She sat down on the floor of the living room and watched as Gavin tore into the presents.
“Mommy, look!” he squealed with delight. She looked. In his tiny hand were four little toy cars, hand carved out of cedar wood. She laughed harder than she’d ever laughed before.
“Maybe you didn’t spike the eggnog after all.” She said to Brooks. He only smiled.