Page 8 of Sexted By Santa
Yeah, let’s go with that. It never happened,I answered before finally pocketing my phone.
Once inside, I was directed by a desk clerk through a set of doors, down a long hall, and into a cafeteria. I expected that I would be greeted by a staff member and given more instruction, but instead I walked into a room already full of people.
I stopped abruptly as I took in the approximately forty residents. Some trained sharp eyes on me while others appeared disinterested or dozing. They all had some version of gray, silver, or white hair—except one lady who sported a metallic purple. She was one of the bright-eyed ones.
“Hi,” I said, waving a hand, before I remembered I was supposed to beSanta.
For fuck’s sake.
“Er. I mean…Ho. Ho. Ho.” I sounded stilted to my own ears. “Merry Christmas.”
There was a smattering of laughs and replies of “Merry Christmas, Santa!”
It wasn’t lost on me that they sounded more enthusiastic than I did. I dredged up a smile and swung my bag loaded with presents over my shoulder. “I come bearing gifts.”
There was a little cheer. That was better. Maybe I could do this.
“Where’s your belly, Santa!” an older gentleman called. He looked more suited to the role than I, with a paunch to his gut and a cheeky grin. “Shouldn’t you be shaking like jelly?”
Har-har. Hilarious.
“Santa went on a diet.”
More laughs. Well, at least I was amusing.
Then the silence began to stretch out again, and I had no idea how to fill it.
“So…” I cleared my throat nervously. “How about I give out these presents, then.” I swung my bag onto a table and pulled out the first gift-wrapped box. I wanted this dog and pony show over with. “Willa?”
A petite woman raised a hand. I waited a beat, then realized I should probably deliver the gift myself. I carried it across the room.
“Thank you,” she said.
I nodded and returned to my bag, fumbling for the next present. But my Santa heckler wasn’t done with me yet.
“Not very jolly, are ya?” he asked. Elbowing a man beside him, he said, “Harold, what do you think?”
Harold grunted, looking unimpressed. “We’re not fucking children, Ellis. Wish they’d stop treating us like it.”
Harold, we’re on the same page.
Ellis waved a dismissive hand. “Pshaw. Stop being a bah-humbug.”
Harold grumbled something I couldn’t hear, and I went back to my present search, coming up with another gift. I delivered a few more while the residents talked amongst themselves. At this point, I wasn’t so much a Santa as a mail carrier, I thought wryly. One of the staff members, a thin woman with short hair and a no-nonsense expression approached. Her nametag read Doris.
“How about I help you with this, Santa?” She raised an eyebrow. “You can spread a little holiday cheer while I hand out the gifts.”
Cheer. Right…
I cleared my throat again. My mouth was dry as a desert and my mind suddenly as empty as one.
“Merry Christmas,” I said weakly.
“You’ve already said that,” Harold called out. The old coot. He just wouldn’t cut me a break.
“Right.” I scrambled for another gift, wishing Doris hadn’t offered to help. At least when I was walking presents across the room, I had a purpose. “Well, I really mean it, because I’m so happy. It’s my favorite season.”
I couldn’t have sounded like I meant something less.
