Bemused, Vic followed the boy into the commonarea. Dozens of children stopped what they were doing and turned.For one breathless moment, Vic stared back.
Then a cacophony erupted. “Santa!” came thecry as the kids surged toward him. Vic dug into his shopping bagsand handed out toys indiscriminately. “Santa!”
It didn’t take long for the bags to emptyout. When all that remained was the stuffed horse he’d bought forTammy, Vic ho ho ho’ed his way back to the elevators and up to thesixth floor. With something akin to relief, he rested his head onthe elevator panel, finally alone. One more, he told himselfas the lift rose. Then it’s home to Matty and out of this damnsuit once and for all.
Or, let’s be honest, until the next timeMorrison asks me to wear it.
When the elevator doors opened a second time,there were no children lingering in the hall to catch Vic’sarrival. As he headed down the hall, reading the room numbers, heheard the familiar voice of an excited little kid. “And then hegave me a present, and it was a little bus like the one Daddydrives, and he knew my name, so that’s how I know he’s thereal one.”
Brucey. Of course her family would bevisiting, despite the late hour—it was the holidays.Following the little boy’s voice, Vic found the room he wanted.Well, this is it, he thought, taking a deep breath. Hedropped the empty shopping bags in the hallway and extracted thepony he’d bought. Then, holding it out like an offering, he enteredthe room.
Brucey sat on the end of his sister’s bed andsaw Vic first. “Santa,” he gasped in awe.
The mother turned from the chair she’d pulledup beside her daughter’s bed. She recognized Vic and smiled. Behindher, Tammy struggled to sit up enough to see around her mother. Itwas the pony she saw first—her mouth widened in a bright smile andher eyes shone the same way Mary’s used to when Vic used tosurprise her on Christmas morning. He could see reason warring withchildhood innocence in those eyes. Santa didn’t exist, she knew, hecouldn’t, it wasn’t possible…and yet, here he was, givingher the most perfect present ever.
And maybe, Vic thought, just maybe, that wasall Santa really was—not any one person but each person, every timea gift was given without needing something in return. Maybe he’dbeen playing Santa for years, much longer than he’d everrealized it, first for his sister, then for Matty, now for thatsilly dog of theirs. He didn’t need a red jacket or fur-hemmedpants or a red hat and white beard. It was him regardless, afeeling within him, all year long. The desire to give to those heloved the things they needed and wanted, things they didn’t pay himback for, things they didn’t ask for.
Things he wanted to give them,everything he could, anything to make them happy. To makethem feel loved. That was what the holidays were about.Love.
* * * *
By the time Vic got home, it was later thanhe realized—almost quarter to eleven. He should’ve called Mattyafter clocking out, should’ve given his lover a head’s up that hewouldn’t be coming straight home. Still dressed in the Santa suit,Vic parked in front of his apartment building and reached into theback seat for the shopping bag he’d saved that now carried his workclothes. Santa might be a bit rotund, but Vic had found it hard tosteer around the large belly. The bag rustled as he trudged up thesteps into the building.
Inside, the bag made so much noise, Vic wassurprised his neighbors didn’t open their doors to see what theracket was all about. He hurried up to the second floor, which heshared with Matt. On the landing, he unlocked the door to hisapartment and eased it open. “Matty?” he called.
The foyer was empty. As he stepped inside, hecould see the dog dozing on one of the wingback chairs in theliving room. She raised her head to look at him, saw the Santa hat,and growled menacingly from where she sat.
“Lazy mutt,” Vic chided, dropping his bag ofwork clothes to lock the door behind him. “Sit there and growl?That’s how you protect us from intruders? That’s realeffective.”
A low snort from the living room silencedhim. He kicked off his shoes and left them in the corner by thecloset, then peeked into the other room. “Matty?”
His lover lay on the sofa asleep, wearingonly a pair of worn boxer shorts and a faded old T-shirt of Vic’s.One hand was draped across his stomach, the other flung over hishead against the arm of the sofa. Matt’s face was half-buriedagainst his bicep and, as Vic watched, he snored lightly and turneda little toward the back of the sofa, snuggling into a betterposition.
God, he looked gorgeous.
The lights on the Christmas tree aloneilluminated the room—Matt liked to turn out all the lights and letthe tree sparkle whenever he could. The twinkling lights dancedover Matt’s burnished skin, enhancing the shadows pooling under hisdark hair. His features were strong and relaxed, innocent almost,though Vic could see a hint of mischief in the way the corners ofMatt’s mouth curved ever so slightly. He wanted to delve his handsinto the depths of those wild curls, smooth his thumbs over thosefluttering eyelashes, kiss the corners of that wicked mouth untilhe tasted all the secrets Matt kept there. Mine, he thought,studying his lover’s slim muscles and lithe form as Matt slept. Theboxers and T-shirt hid little of the sexy body within their cottonconfines, and when Matt shifted again, the fly on the boxers gaped,giving Vic a hint of the treasure that lay within.
Vic crossed the room, pulling the white beardon his hat down under his chin. Sadie woofed softly, but a sternlook from him silenced her. As he passed the television, he saw itwas on but muted—he recognized the characters from one of those oldstop-motion animated specials he’d watched as a kid. The remote wason the coffee table, as
