Page 34 of Frosty Felicity
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I Was Blind, But Now I see
With two quilted pillows strapped to his gut with electrical tape, shoved under a Santa suit, Brett could barely move as he sat on his throne, a big green velvet chair with spray-painted gold arms. Paintings of candies hung behind him, amid gingerbread houses, penguins, and the North Pole.
Children and adults paraded about in the bookstore dressed in colorful attire. The event was a success, the place filled to the brim with children in need, and families just out for a good time all in the name of the Christmas gift donation event, held by the Cincinnati Police in Brentwood. He tugged at the white Santa beard when he hoped no one was looking, trying to scratch. It itched something awful, as if a million little ants were having relay races inside of it, seeing who could come in first.
Dad had decided to attend at the last minute, after making every excuse in the world as to why he should keep his keister at home. Fact of the matter was, the old man figured it was a good deal to get in on the free food, drinks, and a chance to win a cash prize from a drawing later in the evening.
Okay, it’s showtime. I better get started.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Brett bellowed. “Merry Christmas! What do you want for Christmas, child?”
A girl with light blond pigtails adorned with pink bows, a pink sweater, and bright red pants saddled up and explained that her father had gone to prison for writing ‘funny checks.’ Since he wasn’t going to be ‘in town’ for Christmas, she wanted a dog to keep her and her mommy company. Fair trade. While he made promises he had no intentions of keeping, lying to children and such to make their holidays hopes all the brighter, he spotted Felicity in the distance holding a cup of something hot with both hands. As she drew closer, he read her ugly Christmas sweater with Santa on it, holding a sack over his shoulder and a slogan that read, ‘I Do it for the Hos.’ Totally inappropriate, but hilarious. He expected nothing less of her.
Little marshmallows floated atop her beverage. Cocoa. His entire body heated as their eyes met for a fleeting glance. He was so happy she could make it. A little boy gripping a cookie approached. He sat on his lap, then looked up at him with big brown eyes.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Meeeeerrrry—”
“You’re not Santa,” the boy said with a smile. It’s the beard. It must be the beard… Felicity said it looked like the Abominable Snowman’s pubic hair… Speaking of the devil, the lady drew closer. Taking a sip of her cocoa, she then set it down on a nearby chair. She slipped on a pair of reindeer ears glued to a red headband atop her head, looking extra cheery.
“Sure, I am Santa! Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrry Christmas!”
“You’ve got dark hair under that hat.” The boy went to go tug at it, but Brett jerked back in the nick of time. “My friend Jamie said Santa isn’t real. You’re a fraud!” the boy screamed, really going at him now. Felicity burst out laughing, shaking her head.
“Who the… you’re too young to know the word fraud!” He laughed nervously, glad that the line of children was at least fifteen feet away, and no one else seemed to be within earshot.
“…And you’re supposed to be fat.” The boy poked his tummy, then grimaced. “That’s not your stomach! Something is in there. Mommy!” The tiny terror began to tug and rip at his top as he squirmed about. Brett knocked the bastard’s hands away, and all the while, Felicity laughed her ass off…
“You’re not helping!” He chortled. Mortification was setting in.
“Santa is a fraud—odd! Santa is a lie-er!” The demonic little boy said in a sing-song way, then began bouncing up and down real hard on his lap, his laughter ringing. The miniscule monster’s cheeks turned bright pink, and his dark brown hair flew about as he leapt and wiggled. I’d like to kick a field goal with you as the ball… “Santa is not real!”
Suddenly, Felicity leaned in close, almost eyeball to eyeball with the fiend. The boy became instantly quiet.
“Santa isn’t real, huh? Neither are your mother’s orgasms, you little prick, but who are we to judge? Now you listen here, little boy from Hell…” She shoved her finger in his face. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but my man here, Santa,” she hitched her thumb in his direction, “asked me to come and spread some damn Christmas cheer. So, what I need for you to do, Dennis the Menace, is to stop being a killjoy for the other boys and girls waiting to talk to Santa! Your little Debbie Downer pal Jamie was right, Santa isn’t real, but this man is.” She pointed back at Brett. “Put some respect on his name. You still get a present if you cool it, but if you keep yellin’ and acting up, you won’t get anything but the lint in your pockets, and another one of those disastrous bowl cuts you were subjected to before coming here today. Now be quiet and play along, Spock Jr. Or else.”
The boy glared at Felicity, then smiled. The two grouches had come to an understanding. Picking up her cocoa, she winked at the kid, then reached behind Santa’s chair to grab a present from the pile of goodies and gifts. She handed it to him to give to the kid. The repulsive spawn seemed satisfied with this gesture, and went on his way.
“As entertaining and pleasing as that was, Felicity, you’re a horrible human being, and need an exorcism.” He guffawed. “And you say you like kids. Jesus.” He rolled his eyes.
“I do.” She smirked. “As you can see, I have a way with them. Neeexxxxt!” She ushered the next child over, then another and another.
While ‘Little Saint Nick,’ by the Beach Boys, played, Felicity began to flit about the room, and it seemed every spot she drifted to, people were left drowning in giggles, cracking up hysterically. She was the life of the party, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised. He noticed as the evening wore on, she seemed more relaxed, smiling more, and even danced with a little girl under the snow machine. Before he knew it, somehow, some way, while he was entertaining more children with their requests, Dad and Felicity were standing side by side, talking to one another.
He’d heard laughter from that area of the room, and realized the lady was keeping the old man well-entertained. Dad threw his head back, his laughter booming. Felicity was waving her arms about like some octopus, and then he was holding his belly, as if he couldn’t take another second of her antics. She had that magic… that spark. Her inner beauty spilled forth like a wine glass tipped on its side. The sad part of it all was that, somehow, that special spark inside of her had gotten partially extinguished over time. Dulled to becoming barely visible. She kept herself indoors, burdened with work and other people’s problems.
That was her calling after all—other people’s problems. Just like him. In fact, Felicity’s job wouldn’t exist without other people’s problems: high blood pressure, the common cold, diabetes, cancer, vaccines, STIs, birth control pills, blood thinners, and the like. His job wouldn’t exist without thieves, burglars, carjackers, arsonists, and the local scam and con-artists hard at work. They were connected now, in a whole new way. He was outgoing, relished the company of friends and family. Felicity was more of a grump, and an introvert—but perhaps she wasn’t those things at all. Perhaps she’d become frosty as a way to protect herself, to be cool, in order to keep the hot passions of falling in love, feeling heartbreak, and being open to others completely at bay.
“Yes! And the rhino told the alligator that she needed a new purse!” The room erupted in laughter. There was a literal crowd around her, as if she were doing standup. The woman appeared totally oblivious to the fact she was being treated like some sideshow exhibit, albeit in a good way. He had no idea what she was talking about now, but that last sentence to roll out of her mouth was clearly the punchline. Forcing himself to turn away, he ushered another child over. A woman took her hand and led her to him. It was a pretty little girl with curly black hair, and a peachy complexion.
“Hello, sweetheart! Ho! Ho! Ho! Have you been a good girl this Christmas?”
The little girl nodded, and the lady who’d brought her over, more than likely her mother, smiled at their interaction. He studied the little one, noticing how she wasn’t looking at him directly. Then it hit him: She was blind. She began to blink quite a bit and her lips curled. Such a pretty smile.
“Yes. I’ve been good, Santa.”
“All right, that’s what I like to hear. What’s your name?” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
