2006-12-12
santa's helpers
I wake to the sound of humming, a low jangle of notes threading the air. I must have fallen asleep, writing in bed.
“Who's there?” I whisper, receiving no response.
The boombox's clock glares 6:43 a.m., but the window looks gray. Dad says gray skies are superior to blue. They show depths of color. That's why paintings hang on gray walls in museums.
Reaching back, I wind my hair into a bun and kick aside the flouncy afghan. I study that word, “afghan,” tasting it on my tongue until it no longer makes sense. Draping my body across the foot of the bed, I listen, leaning on my elbows. I can't grasp the tune but it feels familiar, like falling asleep with the stereo still playing. I dangle my hand under the bed, but I can't find my flashlight.
When the humming fades under the clickity-clack of the ceiling fan, I slither from the sheets. I grab my gingham housecoat, shrug into the sleeves and pads across the hardwood floors.
A flashlight, like a waxy yellow crayon, glows in the kitchen. I duck behind a shelf where a plastic fishtank once gurgled. A toy mermaid, riddled with tubes and bits of electric blue gravel, slumps in a corner. Through the tank, clouded with oily fingerprints, I notice a silhouette.
Dad is digging through drawers, humming, flinging milk jug rings and jelly lids like frizbees. The wide cuffs of his denim shirt fold over his hands. His fingers look decapitated.
Dad used to hide my Xmas presents in the attic. At his new house, he doesn't have an attic. Not even a basement where he could rock out on his guitar. Instead, he hides my gifts in grocery bags and shoves them in the "pantry" (a closet in the kitchen).
"You're not supposed to be up," he says.
When I was little, he used to say, "Santa is watching you!" And it seemed like Santa was everywhere--hanging outside the grocery store, ringing a bell, or visiting classrooms on the last day of school. When I asked Dad about this, he said, "Santa has many helpers."
Now I know the truth.
I know that Dad is one of them.
f-i-n at 3:22 p.m.