Mom heaves a sigh. “Honey, don’t think me for buying groceries. That is literally the smallest thing I’m supposed to do as your mother.” Her lips press into a line and she shakes her head. “I’m really sorry we’re all going through this. I’m sorry I put you through this.”
“Mom, it’s okay.” I lean against her shoulder. “You’ve always been the best mom. You don’t have to apologize for anything. Times are tough but we’ll figure it out. I could try calling Dad and asking for some money?”
“No way,” Mom snaps. “He already said he has nothing left to give.”
I frown. She’s right, and I don’t want to call Dad anyhow. He doesn’t even bother to tell us happy birthday anymore. We could be homeless and he probably wouldn’t care. “What about Grandma?” I ask, knowing it’s also a pointless suggestion.
Mom shakes her head, frowning. “She’s on a fixed income that barely pays her rent. I couldn’t ask her for money. Besides, I’m bound to get a job soon. We just have to make it through the holidays because no one hires in December.”
“We’ll be okay,” I say.
Mom’s eyes flood with tears and she shakes her head. “Jayda, I’m so sorry. This is the worst. I told myself I’d find a way to give you and Max a Christmas, and I can’t. I’ve got nothing. The bank won’t give me a loan, and my credit cards are all maxed out. I had to sell the TV to buy groceries today.” Tears fall down her cheeks and she dabs them away. “I have nothing left.”
My heart breaks for my mom. She’s strong and amazing and I hate seeing her like this. I throw my arms around her. “It’ll be fine, Mom. I’m working at the Christmas tree farm again this weekend and I’ll get eighty dollars. We’ll buy Max presents with that.”
“You are such a sweetheart,” she says. “I’m so proud of you.”
I smile. “Don’t worry about us, Mom. We’re going to be okay.”
“I sure hope so.” Mom heaves a sigh. “I spent all day down here filling out job applications and doing those surveys that pay you fifty cents each. I think I made ten dollars and it took forever. But I’m going to have to find something for money because the next light bill is due after Christmas, and we still need to eat.”
Max runs up to us. “I’m hungry,” he whines.
I stand up and reach for his hand. “I’ll make you some food.”
Mom touches my arm. “You’re an angel, Jayda. I’m going to stay down here and keep up the job search.”
At home, I make Max dinner and then look for something to eat for myself. It’s great that Max never tires of cheap food like mac and cheese with hot dogs cut up in it, but I get tired of the same stuff. Rice and beans, cereal, ramen noodles. It’s all so boring after a while, but I make sure not to complain because I don’t want Mom to feel worse than she already does.
I can’t stop thinking about that letter from “Santa.” There’s no real Santa, I know that. So where did it come from? Maybe it is from my school… some kind of thing that will end up inviting me to a high school holiday party or something. I promised Max I would wait until he got his letter, but I know that’s not coming. Santa isn’t replying to letters. Max didn’t even use a real stamp. The letter I got is probably some kind of junk mail. Maybe it’s a college recruiting letter, or maybe even a thank you card from Mr. Harris for working for him.
Yeah, that’s probably it.
Mom stays at the rec center all evening, and eventually I put Max to bed and read him a story, and then I’m alone in my room once more. I miss the nights where Mom and I would stay up late watching Netflix shows. Now she’s always on her computer, always desperately looking for work.
Now there’s no TV to entertain me. My phone doesn’t get Wi-Fi signal in our apartment, and I am so bored and unable to stop thinking about that letter.
I peek into Max’s bedroom and make sure he’s asleep. If I’m really careful with the wax seal, maybe he’ll never know. It’s just some junk mail, I am sure of it.
I close my bedroom door and press my back against it, and then I carefully open the letter.
The stationary is just as beautiful as the envelope, and I swear the whole thing smells a little like Christmas. There’s not some typed up pre-printed note inside here like I expected. It’s a letter, handwritten in black pen with handwriting that’s, well, kind of awful. Whoever wrote this doesn’t have the best penmanship.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
And then I read the letter again.
Dear Jayda,
I read your letter with interest. It’s not every day that I hear from teenagers, as most of them think they’re too cool to believe in me. I’m sure you know that my elves are not able to make all things in the world, but they do love to help me make wishes come true. I need a little more information in order to help you, as my magic powers are a little faulty this year.
Can you please tell me about your mom’s job aspirations?
What was your little brother’s Christmas wish?
Please write back as soon as possible because I would love to help you have a wonderful Christmas this year.
Yours,
