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The last few snowflakes had fallen
hours ago, leaving the sky clear and speckled with stars.
As he gunned the rusty Oldsmobile down the avenue out of
town, Santa touched the shirt pocket under his red costume,
feeling for his last cigarette. Not yet, he decided.
Santa, who in ordinary hours was called
Fred Renfro, had forgotten to buy his customary pack on the
way home. About which fact, Santa said a short bad word.
But he was the only one who heard it.
Some men shave every day, some only
when it suits them and some not at all. If this last type
of man lets his beard grow full, it will turn a billowy
white as he gets older. Let his hair thin and his body go
plump, and once a year he can always find work impersonating
Kris Kringle. This was Fred.
It had been a long day at the
department store. Ninety-nine kids had sat on his lap for
five minutes apiece. Some had reeled off lists of
incredible and pathetic greed; others had wanted only one
single, impossible thing for Christmas. The last one was a
little girl who asked for such simple things that he??™d
actually had to blink back tears. It was that kind of a
day. There wasn??™t much money out there, this year. He
spent the day making promises, telling lies, posing for
pictures.
All in a day??™s work, but he was tired
now, his knee still damp from holding a tyke who couldn??™t
contain his excitement at seeing Santa in the flesh. And
that single cigarette had to last until tomorrow morning.
As he left the outskirts of the city, he saw a tall young
man standing under the farthest and final street lamp, thumb
extended. It wasn??™t that cold. Fred didn??™t feel like
company on the road, but he was still wearing his Santa suit
because it was a long drive home and this close to
Christmas, no cop would be heartless enough to ticket Santa
Claus. By the same token, now he had to pick up the
hitcher. Imagine how it would feel if Santa Claus himself
drove right past you. Fred could imagine, so he pulled
over.
The hitcher was older than he looked
under the sodium light, and obviously down on his luck. The
collar was turned up on his marvelously ragged old coat, and
his gloves had holes. Without a word, he climbed into the
warmth of the car, closing the door right away: a practiced
hitcher. ???Thanks for stopping, Santa. I??™ve been here all
day.???
???Call me Fred. I??™ve been Santa Claus
all day. How far are you going???? Oh, wonderful: a bum,
thought Fred. The dome light was broken, so he couldn??™t
quite see the stranger. But Fred took a discreet sniff and
felt somewhat better as he caught the scent of moist wool,
the tangerine smell of pine boughs. Nothing offensive, and
no liquor on his breath.
???Quite a ways,??? said the man. ???I may not get there
tonight. You can take me as far as you like, and drop me
off anywhere. I??™ll keep walking.???
???Fair enough,??? Fred said. They drove
off. The city lights were receding in the mirror when his
hitcher suddenly asked, ???Mister . . . Would you happen to
have ??¦ a cigarette????
Fred winced. ???Yeah. Yes, friend, I
do. I have exactly one left. Tell you what, though,
how about a couple bucks instead? You look like you could
use them,??? he added gently.
???Thanks,??? the man said, smiling in a
way that seemed odd and shy and somehow familiar. His voice
was calm and quiet. ???That??™s very kind, but I don??™t need
money. The cigarette would be better. Perhaps I could give
Santa something in return.???
Uh-oh. Fred glanced over,
thinking: And here??™s where he pulls a gun. The
man??™s face was barely visible in the glow from the dash, and
he was watching the road with his hands in his lap. Fred
relaxed a little. ???Ah. Okay. What did you have in mind????
???Surely you must want something . . .
an item, a hope, a dream, a wish????
???Nope. Can??™t think of anything,??? Fred
said, shrugging. He wondered if the guy was going to hand
over a grimy religious tract or a can of Sterno, and demand
that last smoke.
???Then you??™re fortunate. All right.
What would you ask in return, not for yourself, but for
everyone else????
Fred slowed the car fractionally, his
eyes narrowing. He thought about promising himself never to
pick up another hitchhiker, but that wasn??™t going to help
him now. ???Everyone in the world? You??™re kidding, right????
???Far from it.??? He was Still facing
straight ahead.
Fred thought it over, and decided that
humoring head-cases was good policy. ???That??™s cool. For my
last cigarette? . . . World peace.??? And then he heard a
regretful, almost mournful sigh.
???No. Sorry. That won??™t happen for a
long time. Peace on Earth will require an immense effort, a
larger sacrifice from everyone. But it was a really nice
wish.???
???Gotcha. You must not want this
cigarette very badly,??? Fred said, tapping his pocket. He
hesitated for a second and then fished it out. ???Here.
Like, I was going to quit for New Year??™s anyway. I??™ll just
start early.??? Nicotine addiction is not gentle, and he knew
he??™d pay an awful price for this whim, but that was
tomorrow??™s problem. ???So, Merry flipping Christmas.??? But the
stranger took it as if it were the last cigarette on earth,
cupping it in his palm. ???Thank you. I accept. In return,
my gift will be five minutes of peace in the world.???
Fred snorted. ???Thanks ever so much, my
friend. Five lousy minutes? That??™s not enough.???
A long moment passed. ???It??™s an
amazingly long time, Santa. For those three hundred
heartbeats, no angry words, no weapons fired, no enemies
hated, no heartache anywhere on the planet, for five
minutes. Half the world will sleep through it. But
considering the record so far, I??™d call that a miracle,
wouldn??™t you???? He tucked the cigarette somewhere inside his
shabby old coat. ???If you don??™t mind, I??™ll save this for
later.???
Fred was thinking hard, trying to feel
out the situation. Okay, his rider was a serious loony.
This would be a good story to tell his wife when he got
home, and he was definitely going to drop this guy off at
the soonest opportunity. ???Wow. You??™re right, a miracle.
I??™m so glad you can do it.??? Already he missed the lost
cigarette. ???So by the way, you feel okay? Need some rest?
Hospital isn??™t that far out of my way. You could spend the
night in a warm bed, chat with the pretty nurses, tell them
you??™re confused, a little white lie, and I??™ll bet they??™d
let you stay overnight. You??™d get three hot meals ??“-???
???I couldn??™t lie. Don??™t worry, I feel
fine.???
???Hope so,??? Fred said sincerely.
Nothing medication wouldn??™t cure, probably. But the hitcher
didn??™t seem all that dangerous, aside from the delusion that
he was a genie. ???You??™re still welcome to a couple bucks,???
he said again.
???If you like, drop them in a poor box
somewhere. The needy are always with us.???
So that was that. ???That??™s a pure
fact,??? Fred said. ???I??™ll do it, then.??? More than ever
before in his life, he wanted a cigarette. By now they were
deep in the countryside. They drove past an old cemetery, a
flickering gray forest of snow-capped marble monuments and
stone angels in the headlights. They passed a few
farmhouses, darkened but for wide picture windows glowing
with the muted colors of TV??™s and Christmas trees. The
hitcher spoke: ???What??™s it like, being Santa Claus????
???It??™s good.??? Finally, the topic was on
saner ground. ???You get to sit down all day. The little
ones who can??™t even talk yet, they get all wide-eyed, their
moms take pictures. They never forget. Big kids, they pull
on the beard.??? Fred tugged his own. ???Took me years
to grow this.???
???Well, you do look the part.???
???I know I do. There was one little
girl, she must have been about five years old . . . He
stopped talking as a truck passed, spraying a shower of wet
snow on the windshield. Fred flicked the wipers to clear
it. ???Anyway, you know.???
???Go on. What did she ask????
Fred shrugged. ???Skip it. Don??™t
matter.???
???On the contrary, it matters very
much. What did she ask????
Fred glanced at his passenger, who so
far hadn??™t robbed him or gotten violent. ???Look, my friend,???
he said stiffly, ???no offense, but that??™s, like, real
confidential. Santa??™s personal business.???
???The one who almost made you cry,
Fred. It??™s important.???
Now, that wasn??™t supposed to happen,
Fred thought. Something itched deep inside his chest.
Softly he asked, ???What????
???I imagine,??? came the answer, ???that
every Santa hears a few sad things. Santa reads the lists
that no one else ever sees. Tell me what she asked for.???
And so Fred told him, a little too
casually, ???Not that much. A few things. She wanted a job
for her father and a doll for her sister and a coat for her
mother.???
???Nothing for herself????
Fred took a deep breath. ???A pencil.???
For a long time, neither of them said anything. They sped
down the dark highway.
???So few know how to ask for the right
things. Those are the right things.??? A pause. ???She??™s
getting too big to write Santa letters with a crayon
anymore."
That was why, all right. Fred said,
???You seem to know a lot about it for someone who wasn??™t
there. You smell like springtime in the Rockies, and you
look like a homeless recluse. But now I don??™t believe it.
Who are you????
After a time, he heard: ???A messenger,
a guardian of journeys. We all have our own work to do,
Fred. Long ago, I was told to heal the earth and the human
spirit. All in a day??™s work, as they say.??? They rode on in
silence until the headlights picked out a vast field of
Christmas trees, dark cones dotting a snow-covered hill.
His rider said, ???You can let me off here.???
Fred pulled over. The recent snowfall
had blanketed the slope in clean white drifts. ???Thanks
again for the lift.???
???Glad to help. I didn??™t catch your
name.???
Again, that odd shy smile. ???Raphael.???
He pulled his coat around him.
???Well, pleased to meet you, Ralph. So
tell me,??? Fred said evenly, ???do you think she??™ll get what
she wanted for Christmas????
???Oh, yes. A pencil is such a small
thing to ask.???
???I don??™t mean the lousy pencil. I
could have given her a pencil myself.???
The man put up his collar and looked at
the sky, from star to star. Finally he said, ???When someone
like her asks, it has to be answered somehow.??? He reached
in his coat and pulled out the cigarette, holding it in his
palm. ???What shall I do with this? I??™m afraid I don??™t
smoke.???
???Give it to someone who needs it. I
quit, remember????
The man nodded, put it away.
???Good-bye, Santa. Job, doll, coat, pencil. Have I
forgotten anything????
???A happy Christmas, whatever it takes.
And my name??™s Fred.???
???If you say. Good-bye, Fred. Give my
love to Mrs. Claus.??? The tall man turned, trudging uphill
in long strides into the field of tiny trees, to the edge of
sky where a few bright stars twinkled, and he disappeared
into the night. For five long minutes, Fred listened to
the peaceful silence, and then he drove home
**END**
Jeff Taylor |
