Page 4 of Santa & His Elf

I smile back—mine also real.

“What brings you in, Nicholas?” There’s an openness to how he articulates my name and a grandfatherly essence that sets you at ease. His salt-and-pepper hair and wire-framed glasses don’t hurt either. I can’t think of a time I’ve ever seen him without them or his coat.

Pepper clears his throat roughly from his station at the door and glares at Doc, who returns the elf’s subtle hint to use proper etiquette with an eye roll and then winks at me. “I know who he is, Pepper. Needn’t worry about that,” he replies, not bothering to look the elf’s way.

I wave off the whole Santa thing, knowing that’s what Pepper is pissy about. To his credit, it is his job to remind people that I’m Santa and no longer Nicholas. That’s what everyone called me as a child, and Holly still does. Only Pepper gets away with Nick. I like Nick with him. It’s less formal, like a secret we share because of our special bond.

My head elf grumbles a low and unpleased,“Now, Nick,”rebuttal that I pretend not to hear when I address the physician. “Ignore him. You can call me Nicholas, Doc.”

There. Problem solved.

More grousing arises from Pepper.

“Good.” Doc dusts his hands together. “Now that those silly formalities are settled. What brings you in?”

“We have a problem?—”

Again, my head elf, who may not be head of anything when we’re done here, makes a noise—a snort. You know the sound I’m talking about. Theyou’re-full-of-crapsound people make when they’re too polite to say it aloud.

Fine.

“Ihave a problem,” I rephrase to satisfy Mr. Grumpy, who got a solid four hours of sleep in my office, unlike me, who still hasn’t slept a wink.

Doc scratches his chin, bobbing his head in patient understanding as if I’ve said something important, and he gets it. “Uh hmm… Uh hmm. Go on. What kind of problem?” He gestures for me to continue.

Not sure how to say it without sounding stupid, I grip my knees for comfort and nod at Doc before I blurt the truth. “I can’t sleep.”

“He hasn’t slept in over four days. Not even a cat nap,” comes from Mr. Grumpy, who can’t keep quiet.

More head bobs and chin scratching ensues. “Oh dear, that’s not good.” Doc’s bushy brows knit in the center.

“That’s why I’m here. To figure out why.” I glance from Doc to Pepper and back again, growing more uncomfortable by the second. I’m not much for doctor’s visits. Ones related to sleep sound silly when you think about it. I’m sure there are more pressing complaints in the waiting room. I believe I saw Crystal holding a rag around a cut that may needstitches. She’s a chef here and cooks the best roasted duck. She probably hurt herself cooking it. The faster we get this done, the quicker she can be seen.

Doc’s face scrunches in deep thought as he stares at the tiled floor for quite some time. When he’s sorted the puzzle in his head, he looks up and asks, “You two aren’t fighting over the bed, are you? Has there not been enough sex to tire you out?”

Bed. Sex. Huh? Is he speaking a foreign language?

My knee bounces up and down. “Excuse me… What?” I sound like a pre-pubescent teen.

Not a peep comes from Pepper, for once.

Doc then asks, “You are sleeping in the same bed together. Yes?”

A ball of tinsel knots in my stomach as I repeatedly shake my head, staring at the physician. “N-ooo.” The drawn-out ‘O’ forms on my lips and freezes like a cartoon character.

Is it hot in here?

I tug at the collar of my shirt, which Pepper picked out. Stupid collars, stupid shirts.

Sweat beads on my forehead. I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

My other leg begins to jiggle.

Oh, fudge sticks.

Not noticing my discomfort, Doc keeps talking. “Then there’s your first mistake.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat.

“I don’t understand.” Yes, I do. Sex. He saidsex.

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