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Chapter 11~ The Subway Santa Claus
387Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKviIYavmCa
Every so often, Bernard could feel the cold sting of the scissors brushing up against his elf ears, and he cringed every time. He didn’t get “haircuts” anymore, just occasional trimmings from the craftier elves so he didn’t look like a mess all the time. And every second that Kit took to shearing off his head, the harder his heart pounded and the wilder his thoughts ran. He didn’t care so much about the judgments of the other elves, but what would Carol say? Or Curtis? Would he be mocked till the end of his days?
He tried to find comfort in the sole fact that he was, indeed, in good hands. I mean, Kit said she did Charlie’s hair. And he didn’t look that bad.
Oh, God, he thought, I’m gonna look like Charlie.
“You know,” Kit eased, “You can open your eyes if you want. I always find haircuts pretty relaxing.”
Relaxing? Relaxing?!
This was the most anxious Bernard had been for the whole trip. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and tried to find a better place. Like his big green lounge chair in front of his roaring fireplace and a cup of cocoa with cinnamon and Kit’s new story. Kit.
The cool metal of the scissors grazed his ear again, and he flinched. He couldn’t understand why haircuts would take that long and why people would enjoy them. It felt like they’d been there for hours. He was getting uncomfortable in that desk chair and his nervous hands kept fidgeting. But, Kit’s hands caressed his hair with a much more gentle touch. More gentle than how he normally treated it. Her hands were warm—calmly but diligently sweeping his locks from his forehead that left just a slight tickle over his eyebrows. He could almost feel each fingertip running deeper in his hair, guiding it along then styling it back away from his face. And sometimes, it was her own hand that grazed his ears. She was so much warmer than him.
“Done,” she chirped.
Done?
He was almost too afraid. He couldn’t do it. Oh well. He’d just have to live the rest of his life with his eyes closed.
“Oh, open your eyes already. I can’t stand it!” she squealed.
Finally, he did. Little by little, he released the tension in his eyelids until they fluttered open on their own and revealed someone that sort of looked like him in the mirror held in Kit’s hand. He was different. He looked more human. More shiny.
Kit held her breath, beaming on the inside but waiting eagerly for any sort of response from Bernard. But, he only stared blankly, finally lifting a hand to touch the back of his neck, now clean-cut. His coal-colored hair still had the thick curliness from before, but it was noticeably shorter and shinier. It was tousled from Kit’s styling and left little loose rings framing his forehead. It looked ‘New York’. It looked human.
“It…” he started, not sure where to go from there. “It feels lighter.”
Kit smirked. “Well, I did cut off a few inches. If you hate it, just say so. I won’t mess with your looks again. I’ve already changed so much.”
“No,” Bernard found himself saying, “I like it.” He turned to Kit and smiled, offering a bit of reassurance. She slowly beamed back. She looked so pleased.
He took the mirror in his hand and turned back to it. He started messing with it, feeling the curls loosen up in his own touch.
“I mean you can see my face now. My eyes…my-” He froze and felt the sharp points of his ears poke through his freshly trimmed locks. “My ears, Kit. My ears!”
Kit’s face fell for just a moment before she dashed away to the closet.
“Here!” she exclaimed, shoving a gray newsboy cap on his head, just enough to cover the ends of his ears. “That’s what hats are made for.”
Bernard sat for a moment, getting used to the overall new look. In a way, he didn’t feel like his old self. But, perhaps that might be just the point.
**********
When Charlie and Grandpa Scott took in Bernard’s new look, they were just as surprised as he’d been. Of course, Bernard was just happy Kit didn’t make him out to look just like Charlie. They decided to set off the only way they knew how—the subway.
Kit’s boots crunched in the snow as she marched down the sidewalk beside her father. It seemed to be getting colder and colder by the minute.
“If we take the B train and get off onto the A train at Columbus Circle then we’ll be there in time before rush hour hits.”
“But it’d take much more time, walking, and money. And, by the time we get there, it’ll be busy. Our only choice is taking the 1st train and getting off at 72nd.”
“I don’t understand why you have to argue with me all the time,” Kit grumbled.
“You just don’t want us to get too close to—”
“Shhh!” Kit hissed under her breath. She knew exactly what Charlie was referring to. Columbia University was on that route. The school she’d be abandoning everyone for come next fall. She threw a side glance over to the oblivious Grandpa Scott and Bernard behind her. She lowered her voice and drew in closer to Charlie.
“I’ll tell him soon, I promise. Just not now. I can’t right now.”
Cold silence filled the rest of the conversation as they continued along to the nearest station, Charlie’s face twisted in concern.
“You know,” Grandpa Scott spoke up, looking around the subway station and eyeing down the fake Santas at every corner, “Maybe I should have just come in my own suit.”
“And get lost in a sea of other cheap Santas?” Bernard said, a disgusted yet curious look on his face.
“No, I mean, I look the real deal. Plus, when I’m in my suit, kids can tell the real Santa from all the other fake ones—it’s true. They’re smart like that.”
Charlie tapped his foot lightly to the reggae rendition of “Deck the Halls” playing not far by.
“The kids will get their fill of Santa magic tomorrow as soon as we can ensure that there will be a tomorrow. Besides, it’s time to go.” The screech of subway brakes hitting steel drowned out the festive steel drums and congas. Kit and the group flooded into the car with the rest of the passengers and found spots on the benches. Kit could already feel the discomfort oozing off of Bernard beside her.
“It smells,” he whispered, sounding as if he was holding his breath. “Like feet and marijuana. You said it would smell like spearmint.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “You’re so naive. I was messing with you. And why are you whispering?”
He whispered again. “The less of a reason I give to draw attention, the less risk we harbor. How long is this going to take?”
Kit looked at him, and he turned back forward.
“We have to get all the way from the Bronx to West Manhattan. Settle in.”
Kit took her time looking around the car. Normally, she’d block out the other people until she reached home, but there was some comfort in admiring the Christmas scarves and rosy cheeks of the scattered passengers. Something so beautifully human. A mother and a young daughter sat across from Kit at the edge of the bench. The mother had one hand in the daughter’s and the other dedicated to the conversation on her cellphone. Kit began to admire the sweet freckles on the girl’s cheek and her fuzzy snowman mittens when she noticed the girl’s attention was drawn to something else entirely. Following her gaze, Kit saw her eyes glued to Grandpa Scott. The undeniable doe-eyed mooniness in her eyes was the same look she’d seen in hundreds of children like her over years past. Grandpa Scott was right. No matter what he was wearing, children who believed were drawn to him like moths to a flame. The little girl, starstruck, stared for a few more seconds before raising a finger and pointing to the man.
“Santa…” she softly said. No one but Kit heard it at first until the little girl began repeating herself louder and louder. In fact, she didn’t stop until she finally caught the attention of Santa himself.
Grandpa Scott looked around to the handful of people giving him side glances and finally back at the little girl. The mother had taken notice and paused her conversation to hush the daughter. Grandpa Scott smiled innocently and nodded back to the apologizing mother. The girl had finally quieted down.
Bernard let out an obviously held breath and mumbled, “That was too close.”
The first stop on their trip came just a few minutes later. The doors swished open as the people came and left. Suddenly, the little girl unwound from her mother, slid off her seat, and began her ascent up Grandpa Scott’s knees.
“Gloria!” the mother gasped, reaching back out for the little girl. But, little Gloria had already attached herself to the large man. Grandpa Scott chuckled warmly, helping the girl up onto his lap.
“Gloria, no! Get off that man!” the mother hissed, beginning to lift the daughter up.
The girl shouted and cried, “Santa! I want to see Santa! Santa!” She burst into a fit of tears and struggled desperately.
“Hey now,” hushed Grandpa Scott, soothing the child and assuring the mother with a wink, “Stop all that crying. You can’t be crying around Christmas. You won’t get all your presents if you keep crying.”
The girl sniffled and blinked out the rest of her tears.
Grandpa Scott smiled warmly and sat her on his lap. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Gl…Gloria…” she mumbled, half-embarrassed.
“Gloria? Why, Gloria is such a pretty name. You know, one of my favorite elves is named Gloria.”
The girl’s eyes lit up and she bit her bottom lip. “Really?”
“Uh-huh. She even looks a little like you. And she loves baking cookies and petting the reindeer. Her favorite is Dasher.”
“My favorite is…is Comet.”
“Comet is my favorite, too. But, you can’t give him any cookies. He’ll eat too many.”
“And it’ll hurt his belly?” Gloria swooned.
Scott chuckled. “It’ll hurt his belly, yes.” Gloria grinned, showing a couple of missing baby teeth. “And you know what, Gloria? I even brought my top elf with me today.”
He shifted to the side and pointed to Bernard at the end of the row. Bernard made a look stricken with embarrassment and worry. Kit smiled and clutched the back of his coat sleeve in case he tried to make a last-minute escape.
“That’s my head elf, Bernard. He’s super smart and super old.”
She giggled and bit her lip again. “He’s not old. You’re old!”
Grandpa Scott feigned a gasp and continued, “I’m old? Do you know how old Bernard is? He’s as old as dinosaurs.”
Gloria giggled ecstatically and kicked out her legs. Kit looked back at Bernard and saw the blushing sheepish expression on his face. She nudged him a bit with her shoulder.
“As old as dinosaurs?” Kit teased.
“Shut up,” he mumbled, looking away.
“Now, Gloria, I want you to tell me what you want for Christmas—what you want more than anything in the world.”
Gloria was quick to answer. “A pony! I want a white pony with pink hair and a…and a blue horn on its head!”
“A pony!” Grandpa Scott exclaimed, “That is such a good Christmas wish. But, have you been really good this year? Have you been doing your chores and listening to your mother when she tells you things?”
She nodded excitedly as if a pony was about to step through the subway doors.
“A pony needs lots of care. Do you promise to feed it and walk it and take care of it when it’s sick?”
“I promise! I promise!”
“Okay then,” he chuckled with a calming air, “if you promise then I’ll just have to load that pony up onto my sleigh.”
The subway car came to a slow but strong stop.
“I want you to be a good girl for me, Gloria, and always do as your mother says and treat everyone with love and kindness.”
“I promise, Santa.” She threw her arms around his large sides and grasped tight. Kit watched and felt her chest warm. She knew the little girl well. She knew because she too was that little girl. The mother finally lifted Gloria off of Grandpa Scott’s lap with a pleased smile.
“Thank you, mister.”
“No problem, Rhonda,” he said.
The woman paused. “How do you—”
“Okay, Grandpa…Santa,” Kit interjected, “This is our stop.”
The group, amongst others, began filing out of the subway and Scott waved Gloria one last goodbye. As soon as they’d collected at a nearby concrete pole, the subway took off again, leaving a gap where they’d been only moments earlier.
Kit sighed and shoved her gloved hands into her coat pocket, side glancing Bernard.
“No, that was too close.”
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