I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
When her older brother knocked on her bedroom door the night before Christmas, Amaya Warren, pretended to be sleep. "Cut it out," Tuck told her while laughing. The 9-year-old giggled beneath the covers, exposing herself. "I knew it."
She looked over at him; at 17, her brother was her favorite person in the world. Seeing that he was dressed up, her heart sank. "Where are you going?"
The teen smiled. "To Christmas dinner with Tyler."
Amaya's scowl had him apologizing. "Can I go with you?"
He shook his head. "Not this time. Besides, you have to get to sleep before Santa comes."
As she rolled her eyes and shook her head, her puffs rocked a little as did the two braids that outlined her face. She wasn't a baby. She knew Santa wasn't real. Her parents gave them all their gifts and they ate the milk and cookies she'd been leaving out every Christmas Eve. Though she hadn't actually figured that fact out on her own.
With the help of her cousin, Bird, who was a year and a half older, they'd concluded that even with a little magic, no human could do everything that adults claimed Santa did in one night. It had made Amaya really sad to learn the truth, but at least she wasn't like their other cousin, JaTavia. She was almost 13 and still believed in the red-suited man and his little elves. "I know he's fake."
"But he's not though," Tuck insisted, sitting on the edge of her bed.
She watched his face to see if it would crack. "Really?" He nodded slowly. "But Bird said…"
"Because Bird is bad," he laughed. "He's definitely on the naughty list."
"Am I?"
Tuck made a face. "Weeeell, there was that time you broke your glasses and didn't tell anybody." Amaya winced. It had been the second pair that she'd broken in less than a month and she hadn't wanted to get in trouble, so she told stories about where they were for two weeks anytime someone asked.
After getting caught squinting at the board, she'd had a long talk with her parents who'd explained that they just wanted her to tell them when she had a problem, not hide it. So that's what she did now. "I think Santa understands though. He's cool."
"Is he really real, Tuck?" She asked, her voice small. If no one else did, her brother would tell her the truth.
He looked toward the door, quiet. "Okay. So, I'm gonna tell you a secret," he started, "and don't tell anyone."
"I won't," she promised.
"I saw Santa one year." The tween gasped as her older brother continued: "I stayed up because I wanted to ask him something."
Amaya eyes bulged. "Like what?"
"I wanted to know if he got my letter."
"What did he say?"
"I didn't actually get a chance to talk to him. He was already on his way out of the door." She gave him a confused look. "We didn't have a chimney or fireplace at the old house," Tuck informed her.
Amaya bobbed her head. "Oh."
"Buuut my gift did come later."
"What was it?"
Before he could respond, his phone rang. "Hold on," he said before answering it. "Hello? Oh okay. I'm on my way. Alright… Yes. I love you." At that, Amaya turned up her nose. She liked her brother's girlfriend, but it was weird hearing him say that to people who wasn't someone in their family. "Don't make that face, you'll get it soon."
"Nope," she said shaking her head. She could not imagine having a boyfriend or girlfriend or even loving someone like that.
"Hey, so, the next time I see you, it'll be Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," she grumbled.
"Don't be like that," Tuck said, tickling her until she had tears in her eyes. "I'll be back."
"Okay! Okay!"
A knock on the bedroom door made them pause. Her mother's face appeared in the doorway. Their mom was a surgeon and Amaya wanted to be just like her when she got older. "What's going on in here?" She pointed to Tuck. "And shouldn't you get going?"
"Yes, ma'am. Just saying goodnight to Baby."
"Ah, yes! That's right because Santa will be here in…" Her mom checked her watch and began counting. "Just a few hours."
Tuck tossed up his hands. "She says she doesn't believe in him."
"Oh! Well, people who don't believe don't get what they asked for."
The youngest Warren pursed her lips. "You just say that so that I'll be good during the year."
"You're already a phenomenal kid, we don't need Santa's help," her mom laughed and came further into the room, retying her purple robe. "But because you're so good, that's why you get what you get at Christmastime." Amaya paused. That made sense. But was it true? "And didn't you write a letter to him?" Her mother asked.
Amaya was reluctant to answer. She had written one to Santa, praying that she'd get everything. That part she didn't tell Bird just in case he tried to make fun of her. "But he can't be real Mommy!"
"Ahh, my dear, he is," her mom said touching her cheek. "Didn't you go and see him just two weeks ago?"
Amaya looked to her nightstand where the picture of her, Tuck and Santa was leaning against her music box. "But Daddy said that wasn't the real one."
"Well… I think that guy said he was a helper," Tuck told her convincingly. "Remember?"
She didn't really, but the tween said: "Oh, yeah!" The top row of her teeth sank into her lower lip. "But… one guy cannot do that in one night. One night!" That had been Bird's point. And she was afraid the older boy was right. Maybe if the guy had a full day, he could pull it off, but with only a few hours, it was impossible. She told her mom what Bird had said.
A loud giggle left the woman and the girl screwed up her face. "Amaya… Did you two forget about time zones?"
"What's that?"
She listened as her mom explained the world being divided into different pieces with different times. It was so weird. "Like when we went to see Grandma and Pop-Pop a few weeks ago and Tuck and Daddy stayed home and we had to count back three hours to know what time it was for them her?" That part did ring a bell. Amaya said she did. "Right… so there are 37 of them." Tuck nodded in agreement. "So he actually gets like 32 hours, sweetie."
"It's still a lot of people," she mumbled, surrendering momentarily.
"But, uh… some people aren't Christian so they don't even celebrate Christmas," her mother responded.
"Or like this one kid in my class a couple of years ago who didn't believe in Santa. He never wrote any letters, so Santa probably didn't have to bring him anything."
Her mother nodded as Amaya was saying: "Oh. But Bird said—"
Tuck groaned. "I told you Bird is not getting nothing but a lump of coal. Probably not even that." Her mom laughed before she could catch herself. "Kids like him don't get anything, which means less houses that Santa has to visit. He's bad, Baby."
"Don't call him that," their mom replied.
"Well he is!" The teen argued. "Remember when he stole our Alexa?"
Their mother opened her mouth when Amaya added: "And when he was playing with matches in the cabin at Thanksgiving?"
"That doesn't mean he's bad… he just has some… issues. Maybe if he really knew about Santa, he wouldn't be so… challenged." The nine-year-old thought for a second. Maybe she could get Bird to believe in Santa again—if he was real. "Besides, um… Santa has lots of help. Elves and reindeer and whatnot. Oh! And there's magic. And I'm sure that technology has made it so that he's even faster than when I was a little girl."
"Because he has more kids to get to," Tuck said brushing lint off of his pants leg.
That all sounded true, but Amaya countered with a "But what about kids who don't have homes or whose parents are mean to them?" Amaya asked.
The other two sighed softly and switched places. Her mom touched her head, stroking a braid. "Look, Santa's primary job is to give out toys for people to enjoy, but he has on occasions given things that people need," her mom told her. "But he does his best to help everyone. Even if they have…" She sighed, giving her daughter a smile. "Even if they have bad parents or they're houseless."
"It's not fair!"
"Santa is one man who, along with his little bitty elves, does his best to bring joy to the world."
"Maybe God should help out then," the girl suggested, crossing her arms and her mom laughed. "Does He help?"
"Yes, of course. He just lets Santa handle the gifty part of Christmas." Amaya nodded like she understood, but she knew there was more to it. The three of them were quiet for a while. "So, uh… remember what you asked for last year?"
The tween nodded. "Books."
"And did you get them?"
Amaya began grinning. "Yes." She'd loved them! And had read them so fast that she ended up sending a second letter to Santa asking for more before the new year had even arrived. Her dad had taken her to the post office to mail it—dropping it into the slot marked "Santa/The North Pole". Two weeks later, there was a small stack of them on her desk when she'd come home from school with a note attached to the top from her parents that read: "Santa texted us and told us that you wanted more, so we got you more." "Now, you wrote that letter to Santa, you mailed it, how could we have known unless…" Her mom's smiling eyes got wider.
Amaya's jaw dropped. "Santa's real!"
She didn't see her brother and mother exchange looks as she squealed. "But you have to go to sleep or he skips over you," her mom said.
"Okay. Even though I'm not even tired," she responded as a yawn escaped. "Mommy?"
"Yes, sweet pea?"
"Is Daddy here?" He was the last person she needed to talk to. Her father was a firefighter and worked lots of long hours, but she needed him to confirm this Santa business.
"Not yet, baby, but he'll be home shortly." Her mom winked and checked her watch one more time. "Alright, you," she said looking at her oldest, "have a good night and be safe." Tuck nodded. "And you, little miss, have a wonderful Christmas sleep." She kissed the tops of their heads and left the room.
Tuck raised his eyebrows. "I told you."
"Sorry I didn't believe you."
"It's okay."
Amaya's eyes fluttered. "Do you have to go?"
"Yes. I'm already late."
"Maybe Santa gave us more time to be together."
Her brother thought for a second, his hand on his chin. "I guess so," he said hugging her. "Merry Christmas, Baby."
"Merry Christmas, Tuck," she said with another yawn.
While she trusted her mom and brother, Amaya made a plan to see if Santa was real for herself. And if he was, she had some questions for him. The only problem was that she didn't know what time he would arrive. Especially with the time zones her mother had told her about.
Doing her best to stay up proved to be a difficult task. But even with singing every song she knew and trying to focus on the colorful lights in her window that her dad had helped her set up, she fell fast asleep.
Hours later, the sound of Christmas music woke her up. She stretched, looking at the clock on her wall. It was just after 11:30, dark and still. Getting out of bed, she crept out of her room following the noise. Her parents' bedroom door was open and both sides of the bed were messed up. Finally, her dad was home. A few feet down, Tuck's door was closed and Amaya opened it to see him asleep. Should she wake him up so that he'd finally get a chance to talk to the elusive gift-giver? Hearing laughter, she rejected the idea and kept going.
At the top of the stairs, she listened to the voices accompanying the music. "And have you been a good girl this year?" A deep one asked. For a second, it sounded like someone she knew, but she wasn't awake enough to quite put her finger on it.
But the other one she knew well. Her mom's voice answered: "Depends on who you ask, Santa." Amaya tensed up. Santa! He was here? In her living room?! "Why don't you check that list of yours?"
Moving down the stairs one at a time, she landed on the bottom one and plastered herself against the wall. "I think I'll do just that. Come and sit on my lap while I check your lips," she heard the other unfamiliar one say.
"List, Santa."
"Right. Right. Right. List," he said and they laughed.
Why didn't her mom tell her that she knew Santa personally when they were talking about him earlier? Amaya dropped and crawled across the floor. Through the space between the hardwood and the bottom of the sofa, she could see two pairs of legs and feet. One set she recognized as her mom's dancing between the other pair. She was barefoot with a gold anklet around her leg that danced when she moved. The other was wearing black boots just below red pants trimmed in white fur. Amaya inhaled. That was him! Her mom laughed and Santa joined in. "Do you have a gift for me, Santa?"
"Let's see what I got in my, uh, sack."
After a brief moment of silence, her mom inquired: "So do you?"
"Well, my elves have told me you've done some pretty naughty things over the year. One thing in particular, was so bad, I just have to see you do it for myself."
What?! Amaya balled up her face, upset. Her mom wasn't bad! Or mean! She was the best. And if Santa didn't know that, then maybe he wasn't as good as everyone says he was.
From her position on the floor, she could see her mom stand up and walk toward the window. "I'm married, Santa. My husband will be here shortly." Her dad still wasn't home? But the bed… "And don't you have other houses to get to?"
Santa stood up, his boots clunking against the floor. "In a bit," he said softly. The tween poked her head from around the sofa to see Santa hugging her mom. And most people in her class probably would have been, but Amaya wasn't at all thrown to see that he wasn't white.
All of the pictures they had around their house were of a Black Santa who kinda looked like her Uncle Philly. But what shocked her the most was that he wasn't his usual round self. He was tall, much taller than her mother, and his beard was medium-length and greyish. Though he did have on gold glasses that shined in the night. A red t-shirt lay beneath black suspenders attached to his pants. And instead of the usual red and white hat, he was wearing a red baseball cap. Interesting, she thought.
The other two were talking quietly and the music covered their voices. Her mom stood on her toes and whispered something in Santa's ear that had him chuckling. "Well! Ho, ho, ho!"
"You're not funny," her mom laughed, hitting the man. Amaya hurried behind another chair, her heart pounding. She knew what she was doing was wrong and that it would probably cost her a gift or two, but she needed to get a better look at him. "So, where is my gift, Santa?" He leaned down and said something that Amaya couldn't hear. "Oh, Santa… Don't make you put you on my naughty list."
Amaya turned and surveyed the scene. The tree that they'd decorated earlier this month was lit up and had a few gifts under it, mostly the ones she and Tuck had wrapped up and put there. The fireplace had a pair of surgical booties hanging on them that her mom left for Santa—So he doesn't track that mess all into the house. The booties had clearly been worn and had dirt and snow on them that dripped off of them onto the tile just below. Her mom and Santa were next to the window, in front of the half-eaten gingerbread houses they'd made a couple of nights ago, standing beneath some mistletoe.
She covered her mouth. Anytime her dad passed by her or Tuck under the stuff, he kissed them sloppily, citing tradition. When he caught her mom, no matter how many times it took, he would keep his lips attached to her until she gave in, kissing him back. It often tickled Amaya to see them so in love and sometimes she'd avert her gaze when that happened. But this time, she wanted to see what her mom would do, scared. "Can Santa give you a kiss before he leaves?" The man pushed up his cap.
Her mom didn't speak as she grabbed the back of Santa's head, allowing their lips to meet. Amaya couldn't bear to look away as they kissed. Her dad was going to be so sad when she told him about this. Her mom wasn't supposed to be kissing anyone but him, right? That's what marriage was or how JaTavia explained it—when you didn't want to kiss anyone else.
Amaya leaned against the back of the chair and sighed silently. Maybe she shouldn't tell her dad. What if they broke up? Then, it would be all her fault. Checking them out again, she saw that they were still going at it and her mom made a soft noise and Santa groaned. "Come with me," he said.
"I can't," she giggled. "I have kids and a husband."
"Your kids can be without you for one day and I'll take care of the other one. He'll be okay."
The two of them laughed again and Amaya had had enough. She jumped up as they kissed again. "Stop, Santa! He won't be okay!" She shouted.
Her mom looked unsurprised to see her there and Santa smiled. "Little girl, what are you doing out of bed?" He asked, crossing his arms.
"I… I…" Her words were gone.
"I guess you don't want your Christmas present."
"I… I…" Was he talking to her?
Her mom and Santa glanced at each other. "Spying on people is not how a good girl behaves," he cautioned.
"You're not being good either," Amaya countered, putting her hands on her hips. "You're kissing my Mommy! And I'm gonna tell my Daddy! And Mrs. Claus!"
Her mom mumbled something to Santa and he wiped the corners of his mouth, saying: "No need for that. I was, uh… just giving your mommy her present."
Now she was conflicted. "Really?" The adults nodded. "I didn't know grownups got presents."
"If they're really, really good," he said, pulling down his cap, covering his eyes a bit. "And your mama do be good." He grinned, his beard rising.
"Santa…" Her mother said in her warning voice. The one that told Amaya and Tuck that they were seconds from getting into trouble if they didn't get themselves together.
The tween dropped her arms. "Oh."
"What are you doing up, sweetie?" Her mom asked walking over to her.
"I heard music and… and… and… talking. I thought Santa was here and… and he is." She peeked around her mom. "He's right there," she whispered.
Her mother followed her sightline. "I know," she whispered back. "Want to meet him? Formally?" Amaya could only nod, stunned. "Okay, be nice."
Santa sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. "Merry Christmas, Amaya Warren."
"Mommy, he knows my name!" The girl squeaked. "And he sounds like Daddy," she said, finally, recalling.
Her mother laughed, clapping. "I said the same thing."
"H-hi, Santa. Merry Christmas!"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet and pushed up his glasses. "It says here that you have a "Goodness" rating of 99%. Does that sound right?"
"Does tonight count?" She asked, crossing her fingers inconspicuously. Hopefully, it was too late to take her snooping into account.
"No, no, it doesn't."
Amaya exhaled. That was great news! "Are you the real Santa or one of his, like… helpers?"
"I'm the, uh… I'm the real deal."
"Then, what's my brother's name?"
He straightened his hat. "Hmm… William." The girl squinted. "But everyone calls him Tuck."
Amaya twisted her lips to the side as her mom grinned. "Okay, what grade am I in?" She inquired.
He held up one hand. "Fifth," he said grinning.
"Can I ask one more question?"
"Of course. Shoot."
Amaya wrung her hands. "What did I ask you for this year?"
He took a deep breath and hummed. "Let me think." She squeezed her hands tighter, praying that he got the answer right. "You asked for a pony." Her heart drooped and so did her posture. "Wait, no… It was a Chemistry set." Amaya looked at her mom who gave a warm smile as Santa snapped. "It was soccer!"
"No, no, no," she said, getting frustrated. She knew Santa was a fraud. That word had been on her last Spelling test. And she knew what that meant because she'd been one of the only people in her class to get the word and definition correct. "That's not what I wanted."
Santa peered at her through his glasses. "I'm only kidding."
"You are?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Then… um… w-what did I ask for?" She inquired again, praying that he got it right this time.
"Hmm… I believe you asked for a pink Wilson basketball and a pair of expensive basketball sneakers. Size 5."
The preteen's eyebrows lifted innocently. "Tuck helped me pick them out," she explained, looking at her mom who shrugged a little.
Amaya sucked in her cheeks and waited for Santa to finish saying what was on her list. "And?" On the back of her letter, she'd asked for a baby sister or brother, but she really wanted a sister because she already had a brother. But she'd take another one. As long as they were cute. That's what she'd written to Santa and if he was real, he'd know that.
The man cleared his throat and stroked his beard with his fingers. He leaned toward her. "I'm still working on that third one," he told her while smiling at her mom. "But it's going to take some time, okay? And they'll be plenty cute."
"Okay, Santa." That part she knew. Her mom and dad had told her all about babies. "You are real!" Santa nodded sharply, giving her a wink. Enamored, Amaya began speaking quickly. "Can you help homeless kids please? They need toys and joy and stuff, too. Can you talk to God? And can I have an extra pair of glasses in case I break the ones I have now? Can you please not give Bird coal? He's not that bad, right?"
Santa touched the top of her head, rubbing it like her dad sometimes did. "Yes, yes, sweetie, I know."
"Good," Amaya released a breath. "And, um, can I ask you one more thing?" He smiled, his eyes almost closing and he really did look like her dad a little bit. "My brother wants to meet you, too. He's right upstairs. Can I go and get him?"
He nodded. "But you have to hurry. I have other houses to get to, okay?" She said she'd hurry and stood up, pausing. "Something wrong?"
"Why aren't you… like… fat?"
"Um…" Her mother cracked up and Santa joined in, his shoulders shaking. "I haven't been eating all of the cookies and milk everyone leaves out and, uh… I've started lifting weights, and… running and stuff."
The tween hummed, convinced but still skeptical. "What about the hat?" She touched the brim, flicking it like she did her dad and brother's hats. "And your beard's not very long," she said reaching for it.
Santa cleared his throat and looked at her mom. "I shave my beard because Mrs. Claus keeps complaining that it scratches her face."
A loud sigh came from her mother and when Amaya glanced in her direction, she saw her laughing. "She makes a really valid point," she said, raising a brow.
"I like my beard long though," Santa started, smirking.
"Then grow it, Santa," her mother replied. "But if she stops kissing you, don't say I didn't warn you."
Amaya watched their back and forth, getting soothed by their voices until she remembered her other question: "Santa?"
"Yes, ladybug?"
She gasped. That's what her dad called her! Hearing that, the words left her head at once and she forgot what she was going to ask. "Um…" He smiled. "I had asked about your… your hat."
"Oh!" He chuckled. "Uh… well, you see… Rudolph's big… red nose kept shining in my eyes. I couldn't see while I was driving." He adjusted his glasses and then his cap. "Hence the hat."
Doing quick calculations in his head, Amaya concluded that all of his answers seemed plausible. And she wanted to ask him more questions, but time was ticking. She hugged him before running for the stairs.
Bursting into Tuck's room, she shook him hard. "What? What?"
"Come downstairs! Santa's here!"
"Amaya! I'm tired."
She scrunched up her face. "I'm serious! It's him!" Amaya hit her brother's shoulder lightly. "He knew all about me and what was in my letter. He knows you, too! Come on! Come… on! He said I had to hurry!"
"Amaya, you were probably dreaming. Go back to bed."
"I know what I saw!" Santa was downstairs and she'd seen him with her own eyes. "Plus, he was kissing Mommy!" At that, Tuck's eyes opened. "Come! On!"
Her brother sighed. "Fine."
They thundered down the stairs. "He's right in there," she said pointing to the living room. "Go and see!" Following her brother, she scanned the room. Santa was nowhere to be found, but their mom was laying on the couch.
"All I see is Mommy."
Amaya headed to the front door and flung it open, there was a small snow pile behind the door, but no footprints or traces of anyone else anywhere! She spun around before running toward the kitchen. No one was there. And she wanted to cry. "No, no. He was… he was r-right there," she said gestured to the couch where she'd talked to the man. "And he kissed her right over th-there." She pointed toward the window and to the mistle hanging nearby. Now she was crying. "I d-didn't make… make it up. I pr-promise."
"Okay, okay," Tuck said hugging her.
"What's wrong?" Her mom asked, sitting up and pushing her hair back.
"Amaya said she talked to Santa and that you, like… kissed him or something."
"She d-did!" Amaya screeched, wiping her face. "Didn't you, Mommy?"
Her mom stretched. "I've been asleep waiting for your dad. I don't recall seeing anyone or kissing anybody," she said swiping her daughter's cheek gently. "You were probably dreaming, baby. And so it seemed real."
Amaya sniffled. "I know what I saw!" She repeated as her mother pulled her close.
"Alright, sweet pea. Alright." As the front door opened and closed, they all turned to it. Was that him? Was that Santa? "Babe, is that you?" Her mom called out.
Her dad answered, chuckling. "Yes, my love." Coming into the room wearing a white shirt and blue jeans, winking at Amaya who scratched her head. "Hey, baby girl, son. Why's everyone awake?"
Confused, Amaya didn't speak. Instead she buried her head more into her mother's warm chest. "Baby had a dream, woke me up, we woke mom up and now you're caught up," Tuck said lazily.
"IT WAS NOT A DREAM!" She yelled. "Santa kissed Mommy right under the mistletoe! He said it was her Christmas present!"
Her dad made a soft noise and put a hand on her head, moving his hand back and forth. "Okay, okay, calm down, baby girl. Maybe you did see that. If you said you did, I believe you."
"You're not mad, Dad?" Tuck asked.
He smirked. "No, of course not. Should I be?"
"An old—"
"And probably good-looking," her mom added.
"Ew," Tuck said. "According to Baby, the man was all over mom."
Her dad shook his head and looked down at her. "You're okay, ladybug?"
Amaya shrugged. She hadn't seen her dad all day, but talking to him was making her feel better, like it always did. Her mom kissed her cheek and announced that she was going to make hot chocolate and urged Tuck to go along to get some snacks.
When they were alone, she sat on the couch and her dad sat next to her, hugging her and pulling them backward. "Is Santa real, Daddy?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "Didn't you say that you talked to him?"
"Yes," she said with a yawn. "Do you believe me? I really did see him, Daddy. He was sitting right here."
"Of course, baby girl." He leaned close. "Was he really kissing Mommy?" Amaya grinned. "I'll fight him next year."
She began giggling. "Don't, Daddy. Maybe you just need to give Mommy more kisses so she doesn't have to get them from Santa," Amaya suggested, her eyelids fluttering.
Her dad kissed the top of her head. "That's a brilliant idea."
By the time her mom and brother returned with the hot chocolate and snacks, she was asleep, her head on her dad's lap. The next time she woke up, she was back in bed.
And she remembered everything.
Catching her mom kissing Santa, talking to the tall man with him disappearing before she could show Tuck. And the fact that no one really believed her.
Out of bed again, she put on her slippers and headed downstairs. When she reached the bottom, her brother came up behind her. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, dropping his hands on her shoulders, steering her into the living room.
Their parents were sitting on the sofa, talking with cups of coffee in their hands. "Merry Christmas, my babies," her mom said.
After exchanging greetings, Amaya sat in front of the tree, admiring the lights and all of the presents that had been placed beneath it since she last saw it. "Breakfast or presents first?" Her dad asked.
"Presents!" She exclaimed at the same time Tuck was saying: "Breakfast."
Her brother poked around the tree inconspicuously and when she turned around, her parents were kissing. "Mom?" She questioned as the woman giggled like she had the night before with Santa. "What do you want to do?"
"Right. Um, let's eat first," her mom said.
Amaya watched her dad pull her mom up. "Come upstairs with me," he told her, smiling.
"I can't. I'm making breakfast because you're doing dinner."
Her dad bobbed his head. "Among other things." The two laughed.
"Can we open one before breakfast?" Amaya begged, interrupting their moment.
"Yeah, can we?" Tuck asked, his hands already on a box with his name on it.
"Please!" She clasped her hands together and poked out her bottom lip.
Their parents stared at each other. "One. Pick one of the ones in the blue Frosty paper," her mom said as they sat back down.
"Yes!" Tuck shouted. Amaya looked over to see that the box he had in his hands had the approved wrapping. She searched for one with her name on it. "Here, Baby," he said tossing her a round one.
"What could this be?" She asked sarcastically, already knowing what it was.
"Let me guess, it's a basketball," her brother laughed.
"It is!" She replied excitedly ripping it open to reveal a bright pink ball. "That's what I put in my letter to Santa."
"See? And you thought Santa wasn't real?"
She blushed and stood up, dribbling the ball a few times. "Not in the house, Amaya," her dad told her. He got up and tipped the ball from her hand and began bouncing it.
"Daddy, you're being a hypochondriac," she said crossing her arms.
Her brother howled. "A WHAT?!"
"He told me not to dribble, but he's doing it." She looked over to see her mom cracking up on the couch. "What?"
"You mean 'hypocrite'."
Amaya waved him off and went to get her ball from her dad who was spinning it on his finger. She jumped for it and he passed it to her brother. Running to get it from him, he tossed it back to their dad. "Alright, alright," her mom told them.
"Babe, catch!" Her dad said, throwing the ball to her.
"Ahh!" Her mother panicked and slapped it away as the rest of them laughed. "You're so…" She stood up and headed back for the kitchen.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," her dad said, scurrying after her, hugging her from behind and kissing her ear. "Come here." The two of them disappeared behind the kitchen door.
"Ugh, they're always kissing," Tuck said.
"You kiss Tyler all the time," she retorted making kissing noises.
He blushed. "Not in front of everybody like they do."
"I like it. Although…"
"Although…?"
Amaya huffed. "No one cares that I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus. Not you, not Mommy… not even Daddy."
"I thought we determined that it was a dream," he said. Her brother held out a long box for her as she glared at him. "Here. This is from Tyler."
Amaya took the box, grumbling a "thank you". "I can't believe you don't believe me." It wasn't a dream! And he was the one person she thought would be on her side. Now she was near tears again. Why didn't anyone believe her? She should have recorded it with her tablet.
"Okay, Amaya. Just… relax, okay? I believe you."
"No, you don't!" Tuck touched her arm. "But he… he… he was sitting right on the couch. I talked to him! And they… th-they were kissing right—!" She pointed, yelling and crying.
"Hey, what's all the commotion?" Her dad said.
"Nothing!" Amaya screamed and she tossed the box to the floor and ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door shut. Angrily, she climbed into bed, diving under the covers.
A few minutes later, her mom came in and got into bed with her. "You're okay, Maya girl?"
"No," she admitted.
"Tell Mommy what's wrong."
Still laying on her stomach, her eyes closed and her head starting to hurt, she said: "I don't want you two to break up or get a divorce."
"What… who?"
"You and Daddy."
Her mom smoothed her back as the tears dropped onto the pillow. "Who told you that? Why do you think that?"
"That's what happens when someone…" Amaya turned onto her back, yawning. "When someone kisses someone else."
Her mom sighed, lifting her chin. "Amaya, your father and I love each other and our children way too much, okay?" Yawning for a second time, the tween nodded, reassured. "And you're nine, sweet pea. You do not have to worry about our marriage." She smiled. "We're solid, alright?"
"You promise?"
Three side-by-side fingers flew into the air. "Scout's honor."
The last thing she said before going back to sleep was: "Alright."
A beeping from her tablet woke her up again and she moaned. Getting up to use the bathroom, she realized that Christmas day was almost over and she realized that not only had she not eaten, but she'd only opened one gift. In the hallway, the house was so quiet. She stopped by Tuck's room to see that he wasn't there. His bed was made up which meant that he was probably gone. In her parents' room, their bed was made up, too. Did they leave, too?
Pouting, she went downstairs looking for somebody—anybody. The sound of hushed voices hit her ear before she touched the last step. "She cried herself to sleep," her mom was saying. "She thinks we might get a divorce."
"What the hell? You told her that that's not gonna happen, right?!"
Her mom laughed at his franticness, whispering: "Of course, I did. But we still need to talk to her."
"Babe, by the time the new year rolls around, she'll forget about it."
Her mom laughed. "Maybe if she were four or six."
"Fine, babe."
"Plus, you told her that the mall Santa wasn't real, so if we're gonna tell her the truth, let's just do it. And we're fighting against Bird and his 10-year-old skepticism and it's not looking good for us."
"Ah, Bird. What'd we get him for Christmas?"
"Coal," her mom giggled. "No, um, Amaya picked out a sketchbook and some art supplies for him."
"That's nice."
They were quiet. "I just don't like lying to her."
"It's not a… lie lie."
Her mom sucked her teeth. "You know very well what I mean, Benjamin Warren and don't pretend like you don't."
"Okay."
"What if she would have come down later?!"
Her dad chuckled loudly. "Okay, that would have been bad, but, Miranda Bailey, you need to lower your voice before she hears you and comes downstairs to see you kissing me."
"I'm not kissing you," her mom responded. "Oh! Oh…"
Amaya moved into the room to see them under the mistletoe. She had a flashback to her mom in that exact position with Santa and started to get upset again. "Mommy? Daddy?"
"Yes, sweet pea?" Her mom asked, turning and wiping her lips.
"Hey, ladybug," her dad said doing the same thing.
"Where's Tuck?"
"With his father," he replied.
"Oh. Um…" She bit her bottom lip. "W-what do you guys have to talk to me about?" They looked at one another. "Please don't break up."
Her dad held out a hand. "Alright. C'mere."
The three of them sat down on the couch. Unbeknownst to her, they were doing "rock, paper, scissors" over her head. "Sweetie," her mom started, "now you know that your dad and I both believe in Santa. He is like… an old friend to us."
"Like Uncle Richard?"
"Right," her parents said together.
"And he was here last night…" Her dad continued.
"But he may have told you a little fib."
Amaya stared up at her mother. "Grandma said that some things aren't 'fibs,' they're flat out lies."
Her mom blew air from her nose. "Grandma is right, but…"
"It was me," her dad said.
"Huh?" The tween asked, a tad confused.
"It was me and your mom last night. You… you caught us, me and Mommy. Not Mommy and Santa."
Amaya's mouth dropped open. "But you said…" She turned to her mom. "And… and you said…" She was so frustrated, she couldn't think. "What is going on? Is Santa not real?"
Her parents sighed at the same time. "Okay," her mom started. "Santa is real, but you just didn't see or… talk to him last night. It was your dad in a costume."
"Why were you in a costume, Daddy?"
"Uhh…" he said. "So you could see me. I was supposed to be leaving by the time you came down."
Amaya sat back, shaking her head. Her mom had been kissing Santa only Santa wasn't Santa, he was her dad? It was too much. "So you li—"
"I'd watch myself if I were you," her mother said, cutting her off with a tilted brow.
"You guys didn't tell me the truth," she corrected. They didn't speak. "And my letters?"
"He reads them and he, um… emails us."
Her mom and dad looked at each other, nodding again. "That's right. That's right."
She wasn't really buying any of this. Not anymore. Bird had been right. For once at least. He was going to love that. "You okay, baby girl?" Her dad asked. "Do you understand?"
She shrugged and nodded at the same time. "Because you can ask us any questions if you want to," her mother stated.
Amaya stayed silent for bit longer. Maybe the man wasn't real, but she liked what he stood for—mostly. But her parents seemed to want her to believe, so she started giving in. "I get it now."
Her parents exhaled, relieved. "Good. It wasn't a dream, baby girl, and we're sorry we made you think you were going a little crazy."
She laughed. "It's okay. I knew I'd seen you two… kissing," she told them, smiling.
Her mom blushed a little and her dad scratched his head and then dragged his hand down to his black and grey beard that was way shorter than the one she'd seen him with earlier. "Your mom can't keep her lips off me."
"Me? That's you."
Amaya watched them, glad that everything kinda finally sorta made sense except… "Wait!"
"What's wrong, Amaya?"
"If I didn't talk to Santa, then I didn't tell him about the homeless kids."
Her mom inhaled sharply. "Well, sometimes, we have to help Santa out."
"That's right," her dad jumped in. "So, we were thinking you'd like to do a… um, a… toy drive for the less fortunate kids next year."
"Me?" Amaya asked.
"We'll help you, of course, but this would be your project," her mom responded.
Amaya sat up, grinning. "Okay. But…"
"But what, baby girl?" Her dad asked.
"Do we have to wait? We can do something now, right?" She swiveled her head from one parent to the other. "Right?" Her dad nodded.
"See? You're phenomenal, kid," her mom said hugging her and kissing the top of her head. She stood up. "And we think you'd like to open one more gift before it gets too dark." Her eyes grew wide. "Your big gift is right… out… side."
Amaya jumped up and ran to the door. "Put on your coat, girl!" Her dad called out to her as she stuck her feet into her boots, grabbed her coat off the rack and rushed outside with her parents on her heels. She stamped on the melting snow in front of the door. "Now," he said covering her eyes as they walked around to the side of the garage, "you wanted to do basketball, so your mom, Tuck and I got you a lil something…"
"Ready?" Her mom asked and even though she couldn't see her, Amaya just knew the woman was smiling. "Alright! Look!"
Her dad removed his hands and when she opened her eyes, she saw a brand-new basketball hoop with a big pink bow on it attached to the garage. "For me?"
They nodded. "Merry Christmas, baby," her mom said, her eyes watery.
"This is so cool! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She squealed. Amaya ran back toward the house before stopping and doubling back to hug them. In the house, she grabbed her ball and hurried outside once more.
"Okay, baby girl, let's see what you got," her father said rubbing his hands together before adjusting the hoop so that it wasn't so high and so that she could pull off the ribbon.
"Alright! Watch this!" Amaya dribbled the ball a few times before chucking the ball at the hoop, it clanked off the side of the basket and bounced toward her mother who caught it and passed it back for another shot that went through the net easily. "Already an all-star," her mom said blowing her a kiss.
They literally had to drag Amaya out of the cold and back into the house and she held onto her ball, tucking it between her arms or balancing her legs on top of it. Her dad handed her a plate of food. "You like your gifts?"
"Yes!" She said burrowing into it. "I wonder what else I got. Did you open your gifts from me and Tuck yet?"
"Slow down," her mom laughed. "And, no, we were waiting for you to wake up and for Tuck to come back."
Her dad put on a movie and just as it began, the door opened and Tuck strolled in, his arms full. "Tuck! I got a hoop!" Amaya shouted meeting him in the foyer.
He put the stuff down. "I know. I helped Dad install it. You like it?" She nodded and thanked him with a hug. "Maybe we can go out tomorrow morning and get some shots up."
"I'll be ready." Amaya glanced over at her parents whose eyes were rotating between watching the movie and looking at them. She gestured for him to come closer.
"What's up?"
"And I talked to Mommy and Daddy."
"About what?"
Amaya cupped her hands over her mouth and leaned closer. "I know Santa isn't real. It was Daddy. He was dressed as Santa and he's the one who was kissing Mommy. But I'm gonna pretend like I still believe in him for Mommy and Daddy." Tuck's eyes went wide. "You don't have to pretend anymore. I know the truth."
The teen gave a slow nod. "I… I know. I won't pretend anymore." He cleared his throat. "But don't tell Tavia or even Bird's bad self, okay?"
Amaya promised that she wouldn't. "What did you ask Santa for?"
"Huh?"
"That time you wanted to see him and he was leaving..." She reminded him while taking a gift from his hands that had her name on it. To Amaya, From Tucker and Jaida and Jay
He set the rest of the gifts down. "I, um… I asked for a little sister," he said, rubbing her head. "And here you are."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Yup."
She threw her arms around her big brother. "And maybe if he gets me a little sister or brother, too, then he might really be real!" She whispered.
"I still think so," Tuck said kicking off his shoes.
"Even after I told you what Mommy and Daddy said?" He nodded and she paused for a second to think. If Tuck still thought so… "Maybe next year we can set up a camera to really see if he's real!" She told him.
"That's a great idea," he told her, wrapping his arm around her. "C'mon, let's go see what else we got."
Later that night, Amaya lay in bed unable to sleep. She couldn't wait for morning to come so that she could go outside and play basketball and to play with the game system had her parents had gotten her and that Tuck had set up for her on the TV. Climbing out of bed, she stood in the hallway listening. Everything was quiet once again.
Going downstairs, she could hear her mom and dad talking as the fireplace crackled. "You know, next time you can dress-up as Mrs. Claus," her dad said.
"Or… maybe I'll be Santa. The one who gets to decide who's nice and who's naughty," her mom answered as she walked into the room.
Her parents looked up, smiling and clearing their throats. "Hi, ladybug," her dad said grabbing two remotes to turn on the lights and then the TV, muting it. "What are you doing up?"
"I wanted to play my game and maybe have some hot chocolate and cookies?"
Her mother waved her over and her dad pointed to the coffee table to a tray that had two steaming cups of hot chocolate and small plate of cookies. Amaya squeezed between them reaching for a cup. "Wait!" Her mom screeched, taking her daughter's hands in hers. "Daddy clearly wasn't listening to me because these have a special ingredient in them."
He chuckled. "Oh, Goddamn."
"What ingredient?" Amaya asked.
A loud laugh came from her dad. "Uh, stuff that's only for grownups," he said, winking at her.
"I'll get some more."
"Want some help, babe?" Her dad asked.
"I got it, hon."
Singing Christmas songs, her mom returned and handed her a warm cookie and an even warmer cup. "Thank you, Mommy," she said as the three of them cuddled up on the sofa. Amaya wished Tuck were awake, so they could all watch this movie together. It was their favorite.
As the mom ran after the real Santa to ask him for a huge favor that would help save her job, Tuck came down the stairs and into the living room. Half-asleep, he tripped on the corner of the rug and ended up on the floor in front of the sofa they were sitting on.
Amaya was the first to laugh and then the rest of them joined in. "Are you okay?" She asked, biting into her cookie. Over his shoulder, Tuck tickled her foot a little. "Stoooop!" She giggled.
"Stop before you make her spill her drink," their mom said tapping Tuck's hand with her foot, her anklet sliding. "And get up here."
"There's no room," Tuck told them, rolling on his back.
Their dad reached down and practically picked up the teen who yelped an "Yoooo!" as he was dropped on the opposite side of the man.
"Now. Do you want some hot chocolate?" He asked Tuck.
"Yes, please." The boy leaned forward to the ones sitting on the table to grab one from the tray.
"No!" The other three yelled.