Page 45 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

Why did I have to lose him again?

In the eerie stillness of the Whispering Woods, I fell to my knees, the weight of my loss pressing me into the snow. The only sounds were those of the wind sighing through the trees and my ragged breaths.

Time slipped away, measured in heartbeats and frozen breaths until finally Eirik came. His steps were slow, hesitant. He dared not touch me, knowing that there was no comfort he could offer that would ease my pain.

“Santa,” he said softly. “We should go back.”

“What am I going back to?” I asked, my voice hollow. “He’s gone, Eirik. He’s gone.”

17

LANDON

Ijerked awake, gasping for air, my heart racing as if I’d been running for miles. I pressed a hand to my heart and glanced around me. Thank God I was in my bedroom and not in a frozen land. The dream lingered in my mind, a tantalizing yet frustratingly elusive memory of somewhere magical, a place that felt like a home I’d never known.

Every night for the past month, the same dream had haunted me. I was in a world filled with laughter and light, a place with a tree that glowed from its pines. In the dream, I would stare at the tree for hours until a man would join me and touch me, his care wrapping around me like a blanket. He was someone I knew. Someone who made me feel loved. But no matter how hard I tried, his face remained a mystery. It was as if the dreamitself was teasing me, pulling me toward someone I desperately wanted to see, to know.

Each time I attempted to unmask him, to finally look into the eyes of the man who made my dream-self feel so cherished, something would pull me away. A force, like a wind or a wave, would sweep me back into consciousness, leaving me lying awake in my bed, alone and confused. And my heart breaking.

I wiped the tears from my damp eyes and sat up. A sob tore from my throat. It was silly. I had no reason to cry, yet I couldn’t stop. Loneliness flooded me, almost making it impossible to breathe. Although I was no stranger to being lonely, after such a dream where I felt incredibly loved and wanted, sometimes it left me grappling with staying awake. All I wanted to do was sink back into sleep and not face the world.

What did it all mean? Were these dreams just figments of my lonely mind, or were they memories trying to resurface? They couldn’t be memories. They were too bizarre. The vividness of the dreams, the emotions they stirred up, they felt too real to be mere creations of my subconscious. But what else could it be?

I glanced around my room, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort. I was tired of waking up feeling like a part of me was missing, tired of the constant sense of longing that the dreams left behind.

With a heavy sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. Maybe a walk would clear my head, help me shake off the remnants of the dream. But even as I moved through the motions of getting dressed, I knew it was futile. The dreams would come back the next night and the night after that, each time pulling me toward a world and a love that was just out of reach.

I’d already lost weight and was all skin and bones now. I avoided looking in the mirror. The one time I had, I scared myself silly, seeing my gaunt cheeks and how my clothes hungfrom my body. After showering, I made myself a breakfast of waffles, a fruit parfait, orange juice, and eggs and sausages. Yet most of it ended up in the trash can. I had no appetite.

When the clock struck nine, I picked up my cell phone and dialed my therapist’s number. As I waited for the call to connect, I tapped an anxious rhythm on the kitchen counter. The phone rang twice before Dr. Song’s familiar, soothing voice answered, “Good morning, Landon. How are you today?”

“I had the dream again,” I said, desperate and weary. “It’s the same one. Every night. It’s like I’m being taunted by something I can’t have. I can’t keep living like this, Dr. Song. It’s draining me.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “I understand how distressing this must be for you, Landon. Recurring dreams, especially vivid ones, can be quite impactful. Have you noticed any changes or anything new in the dream?”

“No.” I ran a hand through my damp hair. “It’s always the same. The tree, the man, the sense of love and belonging, and then… I’m ripped away from it all.”

Dr. Song’s voice was calm and reassuring. “I want to help you, Landon. Let’s schedule another session for this evening. These dreams are manifested to replace the traumatic experience you had when you went missing. If we can unlock those memories, the dreams may stop, but are you prepared to recall what happened to you for the three weeks you were abducted?”

She’d asked me that question already, but I’d always turned her down, too terrified of what might be revealed. One didn’t go missing for three weeks because something good happened. “Yes, I am.”

“I’ll clear my schedule. You come by my office today at four, and we will have another session.”

“Thank you, Dr. Song.”

I hung up the phone.

#

Dragging myself to work felt like an insurmountable task, but the routine and familiarity of my toy store offered a small comfort. The bell over the door jingled as I walked in, and my assistant, Sarah, greeted me with a warm smile. “Morning, Landon!”

I mustered a smile. “Good morning.”

After what had happened to me, which remained a mystery, I’d hunted down Sarah and begged her to come back. I’d raised her salary, but more importantly, I treated her better. Now I couldn’t imagine running this place without her. The days I’d felt depressed and couldn’t get out of bed, Sarah had taken over, giving me the chance to recuperate.

The day started as usual, with parents and children browsing the aisles filled with toys. Sarah handled the sales with ease. I was rearranging some shelves when the door chime signaled a new customer. The man who entered the store was incredibly tall, with a hauntingly intense blue gaze that lingered on me a moment too long. My mouth went dry, and my heart pounded unnaturally. His presence stirred something within me. Why was there such pain in his eyes when he looked at me?

He ducked into an aisle. I let out the breath I was holding and found my hands trembling. What was all that about?

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