She shook her head and shifted her feet to the windowsill.
“Sorry.” I wasn’t sure whether to direct the apology to her feet or her face.
She was too focused on her phone to acknowledge it either way. Or maybe she was conserving energy.
Holiday season sapped most of ours, working almost twelve hours a day, five days a week. As soon as I sat, I wanted to curl up in a ball and nap. I sipped the hot chocolate and winced. Way too hot. No caffeine. Ugh, maybe I needed to learn to drink coffee.
My cousin Zack was always telling me to grow up over stupid things like buying sugary cereal and singing along to kids’ movies with our little cousins. I had no problem being responsible, but I still wanted to beme,someone who’d play in the first snowfall instead of plowing through it.
Sighing, I picked at the cake. It was kinda tasty. A faint mix of cinnamon and ginger danced on my tongue. The coffee shop sure had nice pick-me-ups, even if that barista would never pickme. I supposed I could always pop in for a little treat.
4
Car Nap
During my next shift, this poor kid turned as red as Santa’s suit, screaming and crying. She was probably more tired than I was.
Her father, a fit guy with salt-and-pepper hair, tried to hand her off to Santa. “It’s okay. Just smile for the picture, baby.”
The kid kicked Santa, wailing and desperately trying to climb up to her father.
Pasting on a big smile, I rushed towards them. “Whoa, I need this kid for our holiday choir.”
A few people nearby chuckled. Jolly Santa lived up to his nickname with some full-bellied laughter, his cheeks all rosy and his crescent moon eyes twinkling.
I sat the kid on the armrest of Santa’s sleigh-throne. “Hey there. My name is Sugarplum. What’s yours?”
The kid blinked at me, mouth agape. At least she wasn’t screaming.
Her dad wiped her face on his sleeve. “Her name is Maxine, Maxie for short.”
I slapped my palm over my heart. “I love that name. What’s your favorite holiday song, Maxie?”
Maxie looked at her dad.
He adjusted her coat. “What song did we sing on the way over here today?”
She shook her head, dumbstruck.
I put my hands on my knees and squatted to her level. “It’s tough to pick, isn’t it? Plus, it’s kinda hard to think when everyone’s looking.”
“Yeah.” Maxie buried her face in her father’s jacket.
“I was super nervous the first time I met Santa,” I said, not-so-subtly gesturing to him. He wiggled his fingers at us in the most nonthreatening wave possible. “I was scared I’d do something wrong and get put on the naughty list," I admitted.
She whipped her head around, whispering, “Did he do it?”
“No, he’s really nice. Just like you,” I said.
Jolly Santa smiled under a big fake beard. “What would you like for Christmas, Maxine?”
“Um…” She twisted around, looking at all of us for an answer.
Her dad nudged her towards Santa. “She wants a new tablet. Don’t you, Maxie?”
She straightened her dress. “Yeah. A tablet.”
Parents often planted the answer for whatever present they’d already wrapped under the tree. It always surprised me how many stuck to technology.
