Page 1 of Santa's Coming

Chapter 1: Holiday Chaos

Thursday, December 5th

“Flour, sugar,” I mumble to myself, blankly staring at shelves in the grocery store with a million mental to-do items clouding my thoughts leading up to Christmas. I wave and briefly catch up with a few neighbors and fellow parents. While I only need two things, I can never just dash in and out; there are always familiar faces in my small town of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin—always a reason to stop, chat, and delay.

My phone buzzes, Sarah’s name lighting up the screen. “Hi,” I answer, my voice sharper than intended, feeling overwhelmed by the frenzy of obligations the holidays bring.

“Girl, take a breath,” she chides gently. “What are you doing?”

“Just grabbing a couple of things for the bake sale.” I groan, the simplicity of the task overshadowed by my ever-expanding to-do list.

“You know you don’t have to participate in every school function. There are other moms.”

“I know. I know.” I sigh, the reminder doing little to ease my stress.

“What are you wearing on our bar crawl next weekend? Have you seen any good sweaters online?”

Yet another thing to add to my to-do list. I huff in exasperation. My friends and I are resurrecting a long-abandoned tradition. What am I going to wear on our ugly-Christmas-sweater-themed girl’s night? Racking my brain for a moment, I decide on the easiest option, something I already own.

“Probably that one I have that lights up with an elf ears headband.”

“Oh, that’s perfect! Good.” Sarah’s tone is approving. “Will you hate me if I dress sexy?”

I chuckle, my eyes inadvertently catching those of a hot, brown-haired guy. We hold the stare for too long. Long enough for me to notice his perfect five o’clock shadow and height. Then he goes back to examining the two cereal boxes in his hands like he’s making the most important decision of his life. A simple choice in cereal is his biggest worry; how I envy that.

“Hello?” I hear Sarah’s voice, annoyed.

My heart’s racing. It’s either from feeling all sorts of ways from this brief stare with a random man or a warning of an anxiety attack.

I take a deep breath, then answer Sarah. “As long as you wear an ugly Christmas sweater, I won’t hate you.”

“So, Mr. Grinch … he’s taking Ben next weekend, right? He isn’t going to cancel at the last minute?”

I groan, thinking of my ex and the father of my son. “Who can ever be sure about him?” I mutter. “But it’s his weekend, and my mom is on standby just in case.”

“You better not cancel on us! It’s been six years since you, me, and Rachel have gone out on an ugly Christmas sweater bar crawl!”

I smile, thinking about the last time—me, a pregnant snowman drinking mocktails. I’m still the only one in my friend group to have a kid, and it’s not like I was a teen mom. I was twenty-four.

“I promise I won’t cancel on you both next week! See you at High Five!”

Chapter 2: Tacky Christmas Wonderland

Saturday, December 14th

With my son spending the weekend at his dad’s, it’s time to take advantage of a rare night out. Our first stop for the evening is High Five, a local dive bar. Draped in an oversized light-up sweater adorned with bells and tinsel, complemented by leather leggings, chunky boots, and an elf ears headband, I feel a mix of festive excitement and a hint of recklessness as I step into the bar. Sometimes—well, most of the time—I feel like a caged animal because I so rarely get to go out anymore. So, I remind myself not to overindulge.

Depending on your viewpoint of the holiday season, this place is either a garish Christmas-themed nightmare or the pinnacle of festive exuberance. As for me, I can’t quite decide this year; the sensory overload is, at the very least, undeniable.

The dive bar, notorious for its sticky floors and drunk college kids on regular nights, now sparkles with extravagant holiday lights, festive drinks, and Christmas-themed snacks. It’s a desperate attempt to cover up the usual grunge with tinsel and glitter. They had outdone themselves this time, bringing in a realSanta and setting up a photo booth for patrons to capture their forced merriment. Maybe I’m feeling a bit grinchy?

Upbeat Christmas remixes fill the room, and I savor the reprieve from my ever-growing Christmas to-do list.

My friends and I sit at the bar and look over the holiday drink menu.

“You’re looking fit.” Sarah nods at me.

“I’ve been streaming some strength classes the past few months.”

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