| Family Fiction posted December 10, 2024 |
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Dad doesn't believe
Christmas Was Cancelled
by Begin Again
The night was bitter, the kind of cold that seeped into bones and made even the warmest places feel empty. A layer of new-fallen snow covered the ground, making everything glisten and bright. The Carolers, bundled in their warmest coats, huddled together as they sang —
It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold—
The wind carried the faint melody through the stillness of the night, brushing softly against the little house's frosted windows.
Inside, there was no music, no laughter, no warmth — just the cold, empty silence.
A near-empty bottle of whiskey stood on the table next to a stack of unpaid bills. The room was dark except for the faint orange glow of the dying embers in the fireplace. The mantel was bare — no stockings, garland, or any festive signs of the season. A scraggly pine tree leaned awkwardly in the corner, undecorated and forgotten.
Darryl, an unemployed father of two, sat slumped in his chair, his shoulders hunched and his expression dark. The TV glowed faintly before him, flickering with sentimental images of holiday cheer. He scoffed, flipping through the channels in frustration —
Frosty sang about his magical hat...Click!
Children squealed with delight as they decorated a tree...Click!
A preacher stood at a pulpit, speaking about peace and goodwill...Click!
The ghost of Marley and Scrooge...Click!
"Isn't there anything to watch for people who don't buy into this crap?" Darryl moaned. He shook the remote as if it were to blame, then tossed it onto the coffee table with a clatter. The noise startled even him, but he didn't care. He grabbed the whiskey bottle, took a long swig, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his frustration boiling over.
"Bunch of lies. People act happy for a month just to return to being miserable the rest of the year. What a joke," he grumbled, taking another swig. "Damn Christmas — all lies —"
Meanwhile, in the tiny bedroom they shared, Amy and Bobby huddled under a patchwork quilt. The wind whistled through the cracks in the windowpane, but they didn't mind. They were too busy peering through the frosty glass, their small noses leaving smudges as they scanned the sky.
"Do you think he'll come, Bobby?" Amy asked.
With a sad face, Bobby muttered, "Daddy said there's no Santa. He said there's no Christmas this year."
Amy didn't respond right away. Instead, she squinted harder, searching the stars for a streak of red or a glimmer of magic. Finally, she whispered, "Daddy doesn't know everything. He even forgot your birthday."
Bobby nodded, and tears filled his eyes.
Amy patted her brother's hand, wishing she hadn't mentioned his birthday. "Sometimes grown-ups just forget things — like how to believe."
Bobby pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he glanced nervously toward the door. "He gets so mad when we talk about Santa. He says Santa's not real, just some old man dressed in a red suit to get people to buy things."
Amy shook her head violently. "Daddy's wrong!" She turned her head to look out the window again. "I think — he brings toys to all the good boys and girls." She giggled. "You might have made the naughty list after putting that frog in Miss Taylor's purse."
"I didn't!" Bobby cried. "I couldn't help he hopped out of my pocket into her big ole purse."
"Sure, Bobby." His sister nodded with a knowing smile. "She almost fainted when the frog jumped out at her."
"I apologized, didn't I? That should count for something."
"Yeah, that and the fact you couldn't sit down for a week because of the paddling you got from Daddy." Amy offered her brother a reassuring smile. "I think Santa will forgive you. I bet the elves get into a lot of mischief, too. So, he understands about boys."
"Boys? How about you putting a wad of chewing gum on Suzanne's chair?"
"She's a mean ole brat and was picking on my friend, Carol. She got what she deserved."
"Yeah, and so did you. Didn't you have to write, 'I am sorry for putting gum on Suzanne's chair one hundred times?"
Amy laughed. "I did, but I'd do it again because she was so mean."
Billy held his finger against his lips. "Shhh — if Santa hears that, he'll never come. That is, if he's even real."
Amy turned to him, her eyes shining. "Don't say that, Bobby. We just have to believe."
Bobby sighed. "But what about Dad?"
Amy thought for a moment, and then she said, "We've got to believe enough for the three of us, okay?"
Her words hung in the air like a fragile thread of hope. Bobby sighed but didn't argue. Deep down, he wanted to believe, too, even if it felt impossible.
*****
Downstairs, Darryl's head drooped as he stared into the flickering embers. He hated himself for snapping at the kids earlier. It wasn't their fault. But what could he give them? Nothing but more broken promises.
He picked up the bottle again, then set it down hard on the table. He closed his eyes, muttering to the darkness, "No Christmas. No Santa. No point."
Closing his eyes, he fell into a restless sleep in his chair. Not long after, he woke — or so he thought — to jingling bells. Startled, he looked toward the fireplace. The embers were cold, and he saw a large, red-suited man brushing soot off his shoulders. Santa stepped into the room, his eyes twinkling, bringing a sense of warmth and comfort with him.
Darryl rubbed his eyes and stared at the jolly old man before him. He muttered, "You've gotta be kidding me. Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of joke?"
With a twinkle in his eye, Santa answered, "You know who I am."
Darryl shook his head. "You're not real. None of this is real. Christmas, and you — are people pretending."
The man in the red suit looked sad. "You think happiness is fake? Or is it that you've forgotten how it feels?" Santa adjusted his black belt and glanced around the barren room. "Even in a home without stockings, there's room for Christmas."
Darryl snorted, "Spare me. Amy and Bobby must know the truth — no fat guy in a red suit will fix their lives. They don't need lies. They need to grow up."
Santa gasped and then chuckled in surprise, his belly jiggling like a bowl full of jello. "So, you don't believe. Is that why you took Christmas away from Amy and Bobby?"
"I — I didn't take Christmas away from them. It's just —" He glanced at the stack of bills on the table. "I don't have a job or money to pay those bills. How do you expect me to buy presents, too?"
Santa glanced toward his bag of toys. "Very well. I'll leave. But before you decide, ask yourself — is it the world that's let them down, or is it you?" Santa's smile disappeared as he glanced at the whiskey bottle on the table. "Maybe you should have been thinking of them when you bought the liquor you've been drinking."
Darryl scowled. "A man's got to drown his sorrows somehow. I lost my job!"
Santa shook his head. "Not the job that should be most important to you — taking care of your children."
"I put a roof over their heads and food on the table. Ain't that enough?"
Santa sighed. "You tell me, Darryl. Do you think that's what they'll remember when they think of Christmas? I think they'll remember the year you told them there wasn't a Santa Claus, and there wouldn't be a Christmas."
"That's not fair. I don't have money to waste —"
Santa waved his finger at Darryl. "You had money. Maybe not much, but you wasted it on yourself by buying whiskey."
Darryl hung his head. "Yeah, you've got me there. But —"
"Listen to me — Christmas doesn't have to be about money." Santa glanced at the tree leaning against the wall. "You could have made paper chains and snowflakes and decorated the tree. And I know there's a box of lights and ornaments in the attic because I saw them on the tree last year. And there's a cookie mix in the cupboard waiting for someone to make them." Santa moved toward the bookcase, picked up a book, and blew off a layer of dust. Darryl's gaze followed him.
"Don't say it! I know that's the Christmas Story their mother always read." He sighed. "I guess I forgot that there's more to Christmas than presents. It's about sharing and caring — and giving of yourself to others."
"That's the best gift ever, Darryl. Remembering what the baby born in Bethlehem brought to all of us. It's nice to get presents, but that was the best gift of all — and it doesn't cost anything except you need to believe." Santa's words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the true meaning of Christmas.
Santa turned and picked up his bag, pulling out a few wrapped packages, each with a tag bearing the children's names. "I'm just a bonus for the little ones. Don't they deserve a little magic?"
Darryl stammered, "They need to learn life's tough. No fairy tales."
Santa dropped his bag and set the gifts on the floor, but he didn't break eye contact with Darryl. "Is that what you want to teach them? Or are you afraid to share the season's joy because your wife isn't here?" Santa raised his finger toward the ceiling. "She's always watching over you and the children. Is this what you want her to see?"
As Santa spoke, a vision filled Darryl's mind — Amy and Bobby on Christmas morning, their faces glowing with joy as they unwrapped gifts. Their laughter was a balm to his soul, breaking through the walls he'd built.
Tears welled in his eyes as he cried, "Stop it! It hurts to think about Katie not being here."
"This isn't about you, Darryl. It's about the children."
Darryl hesitated and then sighed. "Fine. Leave the toys."
Santa nodded. "That's the Christmas spirit." He placed his finger to the side of his nose, sending a white swirl around the room until everything twinkled with Christmas cheer, including the tiny Christmas tree. Then he placed the gifts under the tree and replaced the whiskey bottle with a plate of cookies. After helping himself to a few and a large gulp of milk, he offered a big HO-HO-HO before vanishing in a shimmer of light.
*****
As morning dawned, Darryl stirred to the sound of tiny feet running across the floor. Groggy, he opened his eyes to see Amy and Bobby wide-eyed and bouncing with excitement.
"Daddy! Daddy, look!" Amy pointed to the corner of the room, where a shiny red bike stood, unwrapped, its ribbon gleaming in the morning light.
Bobby tugged at his father's sleeve. "Santa came! There are presents under the tree! Come see!"
They crawled onto his lap, shaking him awake, their joy infectious. Their laughter and excitement filled the room, dispelling the last remnants of Darryl's sleep.
Darryl stood staring at the tree, shocked at what he saw. "But — how?"
His eyes land on the half-empty plate of cookies and the drained glass of milk. A strange warmth spread through him, melting his cynicism. Smiling at his children, he laughed, "I guess I was wrong. There is a Santa Claus."
*****
As he cleaned up the wrapping paper, there was a knock at the door. Darryl opened it to find a man on the doorstep, bundled against the cold.
"Hey, Darryl. Been a while," the man said, a smile on his face.
"Dave?" Darryl blinked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard about your job situation," Dave said, his voice warm and concerned. My company's hiring, and I could really use a guy like you. I thought this might be a good time for a Christmas gift for you and your family."
Darryl stood there for a moment, speechless, as Dave's words sank in. A wave of emotion washed over him — gratitude, surprise, and a deep, almost forgotten sense of hope.
"Thank you. I — I don't know what to say," Darryl finally managed, his voice thick with emotion.
Dave gave a reassuring grin. "No need to say anything. Just remember tis the season. Merry Christmas, Darryl. We'll talk tomorrow."
As Dave walked away, Darryl stood watching his old friend leave. The air felt chilly, but the warmth inside him was undeniable. He closed the door gently behind him and returned to the living room.
Amy and Bobby were laughing, lost in the wonder of their new toys, their faces aglow with joy. Darryl watched them for a moment, then let out a soft laugh of his own. He glanced at the little tree, now more vibrant with Christmas's light than ever.
He walked over to them, kneeling on the floor, pulling them close, and wrapping his arms around them tightly. "Merry Christmas," he whispered.
For a long moment, the three of them sat together, their laughter filling the room.
Outside, the faint jingle of bells could be heard, but Darryl didn't need to look this time. Deep in his heart, he knew that there was magic in the world and that believing, even when it seemed impossible, could make all the difference.
His lips formed a big smile, and he whispered, "Thank you, Santa, for reminding me to believe. Merry Christmas! Hope to see you next year."
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