One Christmas Night

Part 2

Walking into his workshop he sits at his desk opening the top drawer. Looking in, Jack stares back at him, calling his name. He doesn't resist. He places the opening on his lips, tilts back, and lets the liquid brown gold coat his throat with a sweet burning sensation. 'She doesn't understand,' he thinks to himself. Staring at the bottle he knows it's a lie. He knows this has nothing to do with her.

Getting up he walks around the workshop looking at the toys that no one wanted for Christmas. All that the kids wanted was money or some superficial item that would go out of style come time next year. Taking another swig he steps towards the closet. This is where he keeps some of the leftover toys, the toys that he enjoyed making. Gulping down some more liquid he stumbles to the back of the closet. Accidentally he bumps into the shelf knocking down a box.

In his buzzed state, he's not sure what it is. Leaning down he realizes it's a beautiful green box with gold accents. Immediately he slides down to the ground holding the box with both hands. Opening it with shaky hands he holds the contents inside. It was the wooden maraca that he had carved and a small knitted beanie from Mrs. Claus. His heart is shocked with pain and he takes another sip hoping to dull it out.

He remembers how excited they were to start a family of their own. He had always loved creating gifts for the kids and for centuries he had done just that but finally, he was going to start his own family. He was going to be able to make gifts just for his kid. Didn't matter to him if it was a girl or a boy; he wanted to be a dad. Mrs. Claus and he had tried for so long. They had hoped once but life can be such a cruel place. Finally, they had gone to doctors and that dream of having a family was ripped away. He had placed the fault on himself. He felt less than, not being able to provide a family for Mrs. Claus. He had spiraled for a couple years but she brought him back, telling him how lucky she was to have him, showing him that all the kids that got their presents every year was enough for her and him.

He had felt better. The gnawing ache of not being able to have their own children diminished and was replaced with the excitement of creating gifts. Mrs. Claus helped him, finally finding a place up north, they met some people, or rather elves who were willing to help Mrs. Claus build their own family, becoming happy and content with their lives.

Now as Mr. Claus sits on the floor with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels that hole in his heart grew. He was so happy for so long and yet 50 years ago he started to see the shift in children. The greediness was poisoning. Technology advanced while less and less children believed in him, believed in anything. The world made adults angry and mean, and their children reflected it. No more letters were sent, no more cookies were left out, even those who asked only ever thought about materialist means. That feeling built up again. Failure. He couldn't be a dad to his own and now he couldn't even be Santa to the children.

He could feel himself getting lost and he knew Mrs. Claus wanted to help but he didn't want to dig up that pain that was buried so long ago. She had been hurt by that as well, she wanted kids. A family. This was his problem to deal with, these were his feelings that he needed to change. She would ask and he wouldn't, he couldn't, let her in. He needed to fix this on his own. He missed her so much but he couldn't turn away from the demon in the mirror.

Closing the box he carries it to his desk. Leaning back into his chair, the events from the night played over in his head. This year he had the lowest number of houses to deliver to and each one was the same. It stirred that emotion in him and he hated it, he hated himself. So when he arrived home all he wanted was to be alone and fix this. He didn't expect for her to be there keeping up tradition, he had been so awful these past weeks he thought she'd skip it. Seeing her bright smile had twisted his heart. He loved her so much and yet the feeling from the night had boiled over ruining theirs.

Deciding to stop feeling sorry for himself he came up with an apology and decided it was time he had actually talked with her. Closing the door to his workshop he locked it up and made his way to their home. The crunching snow beneath him, the glistening stars above, and the crisp chill in the night reminded him of just how enchanting this place was. She had looked and researched locations for his workshop and she had picked the best place on earth. Guilt washed over him as he opened the front door to the cabin. Walking into their bedroom he noticed the open drawers.

Panicked, he ran over to the living room, finding the broken mugs on the floor. He looked all over the house for her. Going back into the bedroom he noticed her suitcase was gone. He sits on the edge of the bed placing his head in his hands. 'Damn it! Why do I have to be such an ass!'

He figures she left him and went to her friend's house. Contemplating on whether or not to go over there he decides to give her space for the night and will leave for Whoville tomorrow.