Page 20 of A Winter in Wonderland
‘It’s totally fine, it’s funny really. So what job are you going to be doing?’
‘Adventure Guide.’ I nodded, even though it felt extremely strange to my ears still, considering it was only two weeks ago I was sat in my millionth office block of the year. Now my office would be outside. I gnawed on my lip for a moment, wondering if I would cope with the lifestyle change.
‘That sounds fun, you’ll probably get to see and do so many things. Maybe we’ll even work together some days.’
He looked hopeful, but I’m sure it was only because I was the only person he knew here, so far. ‘What job are you doing?’ I asked.
‘I’m going to be an elf.’ He said it with such pride, and such a wide grin and twinkling eyes that I couldn’t help but laugh.
I tried to turn it into a cough. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at the job, or at you doing the job, it’s just … I’m laughing because you just don’t hear it a lot, you know?What job do you do? Oh, I’m an elf.Like, it would be a funny thing to hear on a date or something. Or not a date, just getting to know a person.’ Oh God, shut the hell up, Myla. ‘So an elf, hey?’
‘Yes,’ he laughed, a friendly laugh that put me at ease a little.
‘This is probably a really silly question, but what exactly does an elf do here in Lapland? Are you going to be making presents?’
‘No, it’s not really about making presents, more about making memories. We’re here to make everyone’s vacation even more magical. From what I can tell we’ll be there on the tours or hanging with Santa, playing games, joking with the kids, singing carols, throwing snowballs. It’s all about being energetic and fun and Christmassy, I guess.’
I nodded. In an alternate universe, I would love to have had the personality to suit being an elf, but as it is, mine is quite possibly the exact opposite. ‘Have you, um, always wanted to be an elf?’
‘You know, I have actually. I’ve played an elf at a mall and at a hospital before, back home, but coming to Lapland is pretty amazing. I’m big into Christmas. Obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ I chuckled with faux-concurrence. ‘What do you do at home when you’re not elfing it up?’
‘I’m a surgical nurse in Seattle. How about you?’
At that moment, a peal of jingle bells rang out, and visitors to Santa Claus Village began making their way towards the stage in the centre of the forecourt. I was pleased, because I didn’t fancy telling my new friend Josh all about my year of fannying around on the job front, especially when he clearly did something as honourable as nursing, and being an elf for kids in hospitals.
At home, I tried to make a trip each year to the hospital I went into as a kid. Just to bring some gifts for the children who had to spend the holidays, and often beyond, there. Dad knew I went, but I didn’t tell anyone else. It was just something for me, really. I wonder if I would have ever done that without having had that experience as a child. Maybe. But knowing how I avoid Christmas at all costs, it probably wouldn’t have occurred to me.
We stood near the back, joining the rest of our group though I was still just getting to know their faces, Daan being the most recognisable thanks to his height and big beard. And suddenly, it was like I was in Disneyland. The stage came alive with red-coated, pointy-hatted dancers who twirled and gasped and smiled and waved in time to the jolly, accordion-led folk music. I happened to glance at Josh, who was now a couple of bodies away from me, and he mouthed ‘Elves’ at me.
Around me, people were swaying to the music, bouncing children on their shoulders, holding phones up to takephotos and whooping into the night air. I kept my smile frozen on my face, jiggling up and down a little, feeling so very out of place and wondering how soon I could run back under the blankets in my hotel room. You know the feeling I mean … when no matter how much you try and force your body and mind to join in, no matter how fabulous you can see that something is, you just feel wooden and awkward.
Don’t get me wrong, the celebration was incredible, the music lovely, the dancers great, the atmosphere happy and alive and wonderful. But my heart was heavy because this was everything I’d been trying to avoid, and as much as I tried to stop it the train of thought had left the station and I just kept reliving flashes of those past memories of Christmases gone by. As the show continued, I felt the loneliness of waiting for nobody under the mistletoe at the school dance, the sadness at my sister’s place at the table empty on Christmas Day and knowing she was struggling on her own in rehab, the sense of loss after my dream job was taken from me, the confusion at my mum not being around over the holidays when I’d thought everything was fine. I couldn’t stop the thoughts, and so although my smile remained on my lips, I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.
A cheer rose from the crowd, and people began stamping their feet on the snow and I brought myself back to the present, just as Santa Claus himself stepped on the stage. Dressed in a long red robe with a white furry collar and wide sleeves, a droopy red hat and a beard so long it quite covered up any hidden belly full of jelly, he was clearly the star of the show, and checking the faces of those aroundme – both adults and children – I knew I was very much in the minority here. In fact, I think I was probably the only one not going wild. So it probably looked a bit suspect. I let out a ‘Woooooo!’ for good measure, a microsecond too late, and then caught Josh giving me a slightly bemused, slightly interested look.
Had I blown my cover already, before even the first night in Finland?
I kept my eyes forward, focusing on my smile, listening to Santa greet the visitors in jovial Finnish and English.
When he declared the Christmas season as now open, here in Lapland and all around the globe, ending with a heartfelt, ‘Merry Christmas,’ in his warm-as-a-fireplace voice, a cheer rose high into the night sky.
I refused to look over at Josh again, and after the ceremony, when the music turned into a festive, outdoor disco, I made the conscious effort to leave the group and explore the village before he could catch up with me.
Stopping at a stall selling gingerbread cookies andglögi– a Finnish mulled wine – I stocked up and let the sweet aromas drift into my nose and the fiery cinnamon spices fill my mouth. Standing on the compacted snow with warm steam making its way over my face, I followed the edge of the office until I was behind it and the music from the square was fading into the background. I was now alone under the falling snow, so I gave myself a minute to breathe.
I should never have taken that bet. I should have just joined another temp agency, found a random room insome random house-share, and kept my head down over Christmas. I should not, under any circumstances, have willingly agreed to enter the lion’s den.
The air remained cold, perhaps colder even now than before, and I could see my breath being picked up by the chill breeze while I munched on the gingerbread cookies. My god, these were incredible … I was just breathing out audibly when I heard someone else do the same, and noticed a creature plodding lazily in the paddock beside where I stood.
Behind the slanted wooden slats, the reindeer who had wandered over lifted his great head and antlers and looked at me with large, glossy eyes the same colour as the sky. His fur was the colour of a creamy latte that hadn’t been fully blended, his coffee-toned antlers raising high into the sky like branches looking for the sun. His nose had dipped into the snow, giving it a sugar coating. I wanted to reach over the fence and give him a stroke, but didn’t really want to start my new job having had my hand chomped off so thought better of it.
‘Hello,’ I whispered, and edged towards the fence. I don’t know a lot about reindeer. Did they spit, like llamas? Could they kill me, like elk? This one seemed pretty friendly though. ‘How are you?’ I asked him.
‘I’m fine,’ the reindeer answered.
Just kidding.He snarfed at me and wiggled his antlers from side to side.
‘I hope you understand English because my Finnish isn’t very good,’ I said.
The reindeer blinked, which I took as a yes, and I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here.’
