Page 5 of Unwrapped

“Yes, Mama.” My chin wobbled and my eyes shut tight. I embarrassed Mama at her Christmas Eve party. She never hurt me with hands. Only words.

“Good. You—disgusting, dirty child. Santa will find out about this…”

“But Mama,” I lifted my eyes to hers, pleading for mercy.

“Go,” she just ordered, looking perfectly beautiful while staring at me adoringly so none of her guests would guess she’s punishing me. Mama’s a good actress. She fools everybody.

I bite my lip to keep from crying and keep my head lowered as I wind through the hushed crowd and climb the steps. The bannister glows with twined garland and lights, leading a cheery path up to my room.

I carefully take of my soiled dress, sniffling as my tummy growls and the smell of chocolate frosting wafts to my nose. Mama wouldn’t let me eat supper. She said I needed to be skinny to be pretty. She’s probably madder that I tried to sneak cake then she is about the ruined dress. The tags scratched my back all night leaving angry, red marks on my skin. But Mama wanted to return it after the party. I don’t even want to think about what my punishment will be for ruining it.

I brush my teeth and climb into my comfy bed with its soft blankets. Surely, Santa will come. He knows everything…so he must know I’m not a naughty girl. I’m good. Aren’t I?

I grab my teddy tight as I look out my window at the swaying palm trees wondering how Santa’s sled works where it doesn’t snow. Then I wonder if Christmas even exists outside of the place where snow and ice rule.

But he came last year. And the year before that. He’ll remember me. He’s the only one who does.

With that thought…I smiled and closed my eyes dreaming of my new kitty and the smell of fresh peppermint sticks.

Before I knew it, the California sunlight was streaming through my window. Christmas morning had finally come. I bounded from my bed and ripped open my door. My feet skidded in the hallway as I raced towards the stairs and the twenty-foot tree Mama and I had decorated weeks ago. The lights were still twinkling as I jumped down the steps.

But something was wrong.

There were no presents.

Confused, I looked around in case Santa was in a hurry. With a frown, I raced back upstairs and into Mama’s room.

“Mama! Mama!” I had cried. “Something’s wrong. Something bad happened to Santa. He never came.”

Mama rolled over and lifted her ivory silk sleeping mask from her eyes. “He isn’t real you silly girl. Go back to sleep.”

“What? What do you mean, Mama? Of course, he is. He comes every year!”

“No, Shiloh. That was my ex, Hugh who wrapped the past two years. He thought it was fun. I did get you some presents; I didn’t have time to wrap them though. Go on, they’re stacked in my closet. You can have them all now if you let me sleep for two more hours.”

I still didn’t believe her. Mama can be mean sometimes. Especially if she gets doesn’t get a part she auditioned for. The toilet in her bathroom flushes and a man opens the door. He’s handsome. And new. Mama always has new men stay for sleepovers. She giggles and tells me they watch movies together. But she won’t let me have any sleepovers with friends. The man’s eyes widen as he peers down at me. “You have kids?”

“Just one. Come back to bed, darling.”

“Scat.” Mama orders, glaring at me.

I scramble into her closet, eagerly looking for presents.

“Mama?!” My hands open one. Inside are clothes, books on yoga and “eating clean” and a few packs of sugarless gum. “I don’t see anything.”

She giggled as her friend kisses her ear and tickled her. “Get lost, Shiloh. Santa isn’t real. Christmas isn’t real.”

“That’s harsh, babe. Did you at least get the kid something?” The man asked.

“Yeah. I kept her. That should’ve been good enough.”

Hot tears fell like a waterfall. I ran from Mama, slamming the door behind me. She’s wrong. Christmas and Santa are both real and one day, I’d prove it.

1

Dare

CHICAGO IS COLD AS FUCK THIS TIME OF YEAR. But the cold has never bothered me when it’s all I’ve ever known.

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