Song Selection: White Christmas— Bad Religion

I back up. It's all instinctual; what else are you supposed to do when you find yourself face-to-face with an insane person who saved your life? Get the hell away, that's what. "Cool," I say. Yes, a stupid thing to say, but I'm no Wordsmith and I can't think of anything else to put into the air between us. "Cool, cool. Where's my car?"

Sophie(?) looks at the reindeer and rolls her pretty eyes. "I knew he wouldn't believe me. It's a stupid idea, Donnor. He can't help us and frankly, I don't want his help."

Crazy. Crazy times a million. That's what she is, but there's something about her and the big beast that doesn't click. "What do you mean I can't help? You don't even know me."

"Well, you almost ran me over, for one." She shakes her head, and for the first time, I notice the tiny red and green bells dangling from her ears. Cute. "And you're rude."

"That's not my fault!" I shout. "You were in the middle of the road!"

Donnor paws at the snow again, and it's uncanny; one, watching a crazy person talk to an animal that can't possibly communicate with her, but more so that he seems to actually understand. The way he tilts his head, the carefully placed snorts, and those beady eyes that see through you. See through me. The reindeer cocks his massive head, taking me in with those big eyes and I get a chill running up the back of my neck.

"I don't want to," she says.

It kicks his back legs, slamming his hooves into a nearby pine tree. A cascade of brittle, sharp pine needles fall on us. They poke my face and hands, draw a snarl from my mouth. "Will you watch it!" I snap at the thing, and he snorts, his lip pulling back to reveal giant flat teeth. When I squint, it almost looks like a smirk.

Weird. I want to tell myself I'm dead or asleep, but that doesn't add up either. It's too cold and my body hurts too much. Beside that, this crazy girl is no angel, and her eyes are too soft to convince me she's the Devil.

"Be nice to him! Who knows what he even sees in you!" Sophie shouts. She whips her head back toward Donnor. "What do you see in him, anyway, huh? If we leave now, everyone will just think the guy's crazy, we don't have to tell him anything. Beside, he's never been on the nice list his entire life."

"Hey!" I protest, but I can't find the energy to try arguing with her. It's mesmerizing, watching the back and forth. The reindeer rears up on his back legs, front hooves waving wild in the air in front of him.

"....Yeah, I know, I know. I'm not a fan of it either. Doesn't leave a lot of room for moral complexity, huh? But still! I...well..." Sophie turns to me, her breath a hot white puff on the wind. She looks warm, bundled tightly in her red scarf. I want to hug her, not out of any romantic reason--I just lost my girlfriend of eight months, I'm good. I want to hug her because she looks so damn warm and cuddly, like a big teddy bear. "....fine! You want to know why I was in the road?"

"That's what I've been asking, so I dunno, you tell me." I should be gentler, I did just almost hit her with my car. But her disdain for me, a man she's never met, makes me bristle just at the surface. I've met too many faces that harden when they see my busted knuckles, cheap clothes, and perpetual scowl. It's natural for me to start to growl and snap like some kind of grumpy terrier when I meet someone's angry eyes. But it doesn't feel right; I can see the warmth in her, in her voice, in her smile, even when she looks at me.

"Fine," she says. "Donnor needs help flying. We were westbound, right on time, when he took a hard fall. There just isn't enough magic in the air tonight, and I'm...I'm not my dad. It's harder for me to help him fly. I just don't know what to do, Chase."

My heart stops. My real I.D is at home, I never keep it on me; if I die and no one can identify my body, well, that's too bad. (Maybe tonight disproved that way of thinking, I'd never gotten into that kind of wreck before. Surprisingly.). The I.D in my faded leather wallet is for an Evan Scott, the one I've been carrying since I was a sloppy sixteen-year-old trying to buy booze. I've never seen this girl before in my life, she can't know my name. But she does. "How," I start to say. but it's of no use. She won't listen anyway, and I haven't believed her before, so whatever answer she gives me to this question, I probably won't believe either. So I don't ask, don't even let that first 'h' drift out of my mouth.

I'm here. Wherever 'here' is, nothing can help me out of it now. There's nothing I can say to make the last several hours go away, nothing I can do to get the girl-who-talks-to-reindeer out of my sight and out of my life, so I let her grab me by the arm. She's so much smaller than me, can't be over 130 pounds soaking wet. But even though she looks like she would easily falter to me in a fight, I'm hesitant to judge her strength; there's much more to her than I can see, I'm warily alerted to that now.

So, I let her pull me up onto the reindeer's back; It's impossible, she's using one hand to grip the rope wound around Donnor's head, the other having to do all the hauling and heaving. It's a strong pull, I land easily on his stout back.

I'm here, I'm here, and suddenly I want out. I want to be back, I want to scream at her and drive away, faster, and faster, until she and all this garbage she spouts are just splotches on my rearview.

But it's too late. My arms squeeze around her tiny waist and the wind whooshes down under us and throws my head back. My stomach is in my throat where my voice is no longer because I'm screaming my goddamn lungs out. There's wetness in my eyes again, stinging. Men don't cry; must be the prep cook job. All the onions, y'know?

And then my face is shoved up against the back of her neck and I'm breathing in hair and faint traces of vanilla shampoo. But I've been horseback before, and I can tell you, this sensation is strange, not like the steady clip-clop below of hooves, just the softest whistle of the wind.

I open my eyes and look down. It hurts my brain; just like everything else tonight, I know this is real even though it can't be.

This reindeer can fly.