The Holly and the Ivy

Tell Me If You Can

"Of all the insane people I've met, you're definitely the best at hiding it."

Ivy continued to stand in the doorway, blocking Holly and her father's exit. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips, her posture confrontational and expression chilly. 

"I'm not insane," Holly said meekly.

"Right," Ivy replied sarcastically. "So if Adam becomes Santa by marrying you, then what? Your dad's Santa?"

"Yes," Kris answered simply.

Ivy scanned him up and down. "You don't look like Santa."

"Because I'm in shape and don't have a big, bushy white beard? Ivy, we both know you're smarter than that. It's unrealistic that every Santa would look identical."

Ivy's eyes narrowed at his response. "Prove it, then. Prove that you're actually Santa. Am I on the naughty or nice list?"

"Ivy, it's not quite that simple. People aren't just naughty or nice. It's a balancing test, with multiple-"

"So what am I 'on balance?' " Ivy demanded, interrupting Holly's father. "Naughty or nice?"

Kris sighed. "Nice."

Ivy let out a derisive noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Now I know you're not-"

"You project a tough image partially to succeed in your chosen career path, but also as a defense mechanism," Kris continued, cutting Ivy off. "But your primary motivation in life is helping your family. Anonymously donating money when the restaurant was struggling, visiting your Grandma every week despite her constant jabs at you, protecting your brother. Not to mention all the volunteer work you do even after long days at the office. For someone who feels like they belong on the naughty list, I'm sorry to tell you that you're not even close. Although it wasn't very nice to tell your coworker that he was proof evolution could go in reverse last Monday."

Ivy took a step backward, her eyes now wide open. "How do you know all that?"

"I think you know how," Kris replied with a kind smile.

"What do I want for Christmas?" Ivy demanded.

"Ivy-"

"What. Do I want. For Christmas," Ivy repeated with a quiet forcefulness.

Kris sighed again, then closed his eyes in concentration. After a tense moment of silence, he opened them again.

"Ivy..." he began sadly. "They do."

Ivy shook her head in response. "No. They don't."

Holly's gaze darted between the two - pain in both of their expressions. If Holly didn't know Ivy, she would have sworn the woman was close to tears.

"What? What does she want for Christmas?" Holly pried, now extremely curious.

"You know better than to ask me that, Holly," her father scolded  disapprovingly.

Ivy's eyes darted between father and daughter, clearly unnerved, but trying to regain her typical calm composure.

"It's a dream," she said to herself. "My subconscious is just screwing with me. That's all. Because there is no way that you're Santa Claus."

"Santa Claus?" a voice came from the doorway. 

The three turned to see Alvita standing with a bowl in her hands.

"I came to get you three for dinner..." Alvita explained, walking into the room. "So you're Santa Claus?"

The older woman's gaze settled on Kris, but unlike Ivy, it wasn't confrontational or skeptical. Her expression was the same friendly one she always wore.