Flash Fiction

The Truth

A little Christmas story.  

"Mr. Garrison says there is no Santa Claus," Rebecca said, more of a question than a statement. She was, of course, concerned about the truth. Her father had been most insistent of Santa's existence and her mother never faltered in her belief. But Mr. Garrison seemed so certain.

"That man!" Jennifer, Rebecca's mother, exclaimed. She stopped stirring the eggs on the stove as her anger swelled. It was bad enough she had to tolerate her strange neighbor, but to allow him to ruin her daughter's childhood was too much. "I thought I told you to stay away from Mr. Garrison," Jennifer continued, trying not to let anger flow into her words.

"I told him what daddy said," Rebecca continued, "and he told me it wasn't true. He said daddy told me those things to make me happy." Jennifer gripped the spatula harder, trying to choke the life out of it. All she needed was for that jerk to add to her troubles. It had taken Rebecca three months to speak again after her father's death. It was unconscionable for Scott Garrison to undermine the love Rebecca remembered. Jennifer took a deep breath and relaxed her muscles.

"Your daddy was the smartest man I ever knew," Jennifer said, her tone as level as she could assemble, "Mr.Garrison is just mistaken. It takes a big heart to understand Santa Claus." She was about to add that Scott Garrison had no heart, but decided her ire would be misplaced. "I wish you would stay away from Mr. Garrison, sweetie." She smiled, but seethed inwardly. A grown man shouldn't be conversing so freely with her daughter. There shouldn't be any relationship at all.

Rebecca nodded while taking a sip of her orange juice. Grownups were strange. Supposedly they were always correct, yet they had such different opinions of everything. She was sure her mother was correct. She was equally sure that Mr. Garrison was right. A few of her friends laughed at her about Santa. Others were convinced. This Christmas she would find out the truth. Her mother brought over the pan and slid some scrambled eggs on Rebecca's plate.

"Stay away from Mr. Garrison," Jennifer reminded Rebecca. Rebecca nodded, not meaning it. Mr. Garrison was always nice to her and seemed so honest. She had no idea why everyone thought he was so strange. She liked stories, and Mr. Garrison liked telling them. Besides, he always treated her like she was older.

"I mean it, Rebecca," Jennifer added sternly.

"Yes, Mama," Rebecca replied with a practiced eyeroll.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Rebecca!" Jennifer called. Her panic was still in check, but the weather was quickly wearing that away. Rebecca's coat, hat, boots, and gloves were not in the closet, and it was too late for her to be outside. "Rebecca!" Jennifer yelled. The snow was coming down, sheeting heavily in front of the street lights as Jennifer jogged down the road. This was not the Christmas Eve she had imagined.

"Is Rebecca here?" Jennifer asked at the Wilkerson's house.

"No," Ralph said, "is she out in this?" Jennifer nodded, tears freezing on her cheeks. It was the last place she knew to look. Her baby was out in the storm. "Mary, call the police," Ralph shouted inside. "Jennifer, you have to get home in case she comes back. I'll get Tom, and we'll go out looking."

"Why do we need the police?" Mary asked, running to the door. Jennifer broke down as the reality hit.

"Rebecca's out in this storm," Ralph said as he grabbed his coat, "I'm going to get Tom to help me search."

"Oh God," Mary said, rushing back for her phone. The snow had begun to drift as the wind increased.

"We'll check the park, Jennifer," Ralph stated, "you go home. The police will want to start from there." He hugged Jennifer close. "We'll find her. If we have to get the whole neighborhood out, we'll find her."