Song Selection: Nathan's Christmas Album 3— Matt Watson ft. Ryan Magee

"On! On Dasher, On Dancer!"

"On Donnor!"

"On Cupid, Connor, and Blitzen!"

I'm clutching the animal like it's full of fuzz, a teddy bear instead of a magical beast that I'm trying (and failing) to save.  I don't know what, exactly, my plan is. Add more weight to speed our descent? Try to help a flying creature when I am very not magic and can't fly? Kill us both? I don't know. I just know that I couldn't sit there and let him fall. I guess I had to fall with him.

Very smart.

"I'm sorry!" I say, and I don't know who I'm addressing as I stare into the sad little eyes of my barely-flying reindeer. "I'm sorry I've been a shithead and I never made the nice list, it's not that I want to be a good person, I just think that what people call 'good' is a little dumb, you know? That's all! I swear I'll be better I swear I'll be---"

"Ho ho ho!" The combination of both their laughs is magical. I look up, and there Santa is, staring down at me with eyes full of light. The twinkle in St. Nick's eye, as they say. My back is pressed into the soft leather that covers the base of his sled, my face pressed up into the velvet bag that must house all of his gifts. I squeeze the reindeer so hard he kicks me, and I let him teeter up on his stick legs. He licks my hand.

"Where's Sophie?" I ask, unable to hide the panic in my voice.

Santa extends a gloved finger and I scramble up to see. Sophie is still on Donnor's back, and I watch from a distance, her hands at work. The red harness as it fits around Donnor's neck, her voice loud and clear and just as musical as Santa's. "On Dasher on Dancer," she says again, and the joy is so clear, I wipe the tears out of my eyes and smile. I've done something right. For once.

Santa looks down at me, clearing his throat. "I've been wrong before," he says. "I was wrong about Rudolph and I was wrong about not needing dentists at the north pole."

"Huh?"

He shakes his head. "And maybe, I was wrong about you."

***

Santa's sleigh is pretty dope, I can't lie. Sophie and Santa dive from chimney to chimney, leaving me to feed the reindeer sugar cubes and baby carrots on the rooftops. I wave at no one and shout into the night sky. "Merry Christmas!" I can't help it, the Christmas spirit is so tightly wound around me it might as well be a big Christmas blanket. A holiday I've always hated suddenly I can understand: love, giving, all that good stuff.

The sun begins to lift in the sky, shading the world with pastel purples and pinks. My head is on the little reindeer ("Cupcake" is his name). We're in Europe, I think, which is a pretty big continent, might as well be anywhere, when I fall asleep. And when I wake up, I'm at home, in the tiny apartment with the pretty view.

Outside, the Hellcat is parked in my parking space, all six hair-trigger traps arranged in their usual spots (gotta keep the baby safe somehow), and I would think it was all a dream if it weren't for one of my over-sized socks taped up above the fireplace. Something I would never do. And folded up in it, a phone number.

SOPHIE CLAUS

Come visit me and Dad sometime!

My heart is a glob in my throat when I think of them. For the first time in my life, I think I've made the nice list.