Santa (Maybe): A Rom Com Novella (3 page)

Mar
k
watched Madeleine across the table. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. She avoided his eyes and concentrated on her glass. She was out-drinking her sister three drinks to one. Mark wondered how often she drank like that. It wasn’t celebratory drinking. It was more of the drown-your-sorrows variety. It made him sad. Everything about Madeleine made him sad. It wasn’t only that he wanted her and couldn’t have her. It was seeing her so miserable that devastated him. All those years he’d imagined her being happy. In pictures, she’d always looked happy. Apparently, the pictures hadn’t been telling the whole truth.

M
ark nursed his fourth seltzer. He wondered who would end up driving Madeleine home. He hoped it would be him.

A
mi, content to carry the conversational ball, chattered away about her neighbor who was renovating an old Victorian next door and who kept her up nights with his sawing and hammering.

They’d been
at the bar since 9. It was midnight and still Madeleine had said barely three words to Mark. Apparently, she was not one of those people whose tongues got looser the more they drank.

“So, Mark
—“ Ami enquired, “—how’s the personal trainer game going?”

Madeleine looked up from her drink for the first time in half an hour, but she still didn’t say anything.
Mark was afraid Madeleine might ask how Ami knew what he did for a living, but this didn’t seem to occur to her.

“Not so good.”

“How so?”

“I got fired
two weeks ago. Long story.”

“Go ahead
and tell it. We have plenty of time.”

“Well, the short version is that I didn’t want to sleep with one of my clients. She’s actually something of a
local celebrity and has lots of connections around town. Local news anchor. If I told you her name, you’d recognize it. Anyway, the long and short of it is that she doesn’t take rejection well and I find I’ve been black-listed at pretty much every gym between Ballard and Bellingham. That’s how I came to be a Professional Santa Impersonator this holiday season.”

“I’m sorry,” said
Ami. “Madeleine here is trying her best to get fired. She hasn’t succeeded, yet. She could have tried refusing to sleep with her boss, but unfortunately she works for a woman. A man-crazy woman—“

Mark was surprised.
“You hate your job that much, Madeleine?”

“Yep!” Madeleine
said. “I’d like nothing better than to go in Monday morning and—“

She made a sweeping gesture and knocked her empty glass off the table. It
rolled underneath their feet but didn’t shatter.

“Where do you live, Mark?”
Ami asked.

“On Lake Washington.
In a houseboat.”

Madeleine was making a fumbling attempt to retrieve her glass from under the table.

“Did you hear that, Madeleine?” Ami stuck her head under the table. “Mark lives in a houseboat on Lake Washington. Isn’t that cool?”

There was no answer from under the table. Ami came up for air.

“Madeleine has a house in the University District,” she informed Mark. “Would you mind driving her home?”

Mark didn’t have to be asked twice. Madeleine made some noise about
Ami sending her home with a strange man, but Ami argued that Mark wasn’t that strange of a man. This reasoning made no sense to Mark, but it pacified Madeleine.

It turned out th
at Madeleine lived less than half a mile from Mark. She’d lived in the same place for years. So had Mark. All this time they’d been that close.

Madeleine fell asleep in the car. When they got to her house, Mark pulled up in the driveway and went around to the passenger side. He opened the door and undid Madeleine’s seat belt. She opened her eyes halfway.

“You’re home,” Mark told her.

“Sleepy. So sleepy.”

“Am I going to have to carry you in?” She wasn’t that drunk, but he didn’t mind. She didn’t seem to mind either, because she got out of the car under her own power and wrapped her arms around his neck as she swayed against him.

“Sleepy.”

“Yes, I think we’ve established that. Where is your key?”

It was in her bag. He fished it out and picked her up in his arms. He had to put her down on the doorstop to coax open the stubborn lock, but he picked her up again and carried her over the threshold.

“Which way?” He had no idea where to go from here. He finally located a light-switch. Light flooded the room. They were standing at the foot of the stairs.

“Too bright!” complained Madeleine. He switched the light back off.

“Where to? Shall I put you down?”

“No, upstairs.”

Mark carried Madeleine up the stairs.

“Down the hall.”

They were in her bedroom now. He set her down on the bed. She clung to his neck.

“You’ll be OK now. I have to go.”

“Don’t go.”

“I
should.”

“Please.”

He couldn’t see her face. Was she that lonely? So lonely she got drunk and begged strange men to spend the night?

Mark loosened her arms from around his neck and fumbled around until he found a lamp and switched it on.

Madeleine was curled up in the fetal position on the end of the bed. Her shoes were still on and she appeared to have fallen asleep again. Asleep was good. Now he could slip away. But first he’d take her shoes off.

He got the first shoe off without waking her, but she stirred when he attempted the second.

“Don’t go.” Madeleine begged. “Promise.”

“How about I stay until you fall asleep?”

“Then I won’t fall asleep.” She looked so rumpled and vulnerable. Her perfect makeup from earlier in the evening wasn’t so perfect anymore. Her eye-liner was smudged around her eyes. She reminded Mark of a depressed raccoon.

“Yes, you will
fall asleep. I give it three minutes.”

“Promise
. Promise me, you’ll stay. I won’t sleep. I promise.”

Staying was the last thing he should do, but he did it
anyway. He tucked her into bed fully clothed and then lay down on top of the bed spread and watched her fall asleep from the other side of the bed. He didn’t touch her except move a stray strand of hair that draped across her eyes. She didn’t stir. Strangely, she looked happier asleep. Mark hoped that she at least had happy dreams.

Madeleine
woke up as it was growing light. She always woke up early. Even on the weekends. Even when Chad had Emily and she could have slept in as late as she liked.

She turned over and nearly screamed. There was a man in her bed.
He lay on top of the bedspread wrapped in his coat. He was asleep. As he breathed in and out, his wooly white beard floated up and down.

Mark. Of course. It was coming back to her. She’d been pathetic. Completely pathetic. She wanted to die. Maybe
, if she pretended to be asleep, he’d wake up and leave. Then she wouldn’t have to face him. She was about to put the pretending-to-be-asleep-plan into action when Mark opened his eyes. He looked started for a few seconds. He broke into a big grin. He reached up and stroked his Santa beard.

“Spirit gum has amazing staying power.”

Madeleine didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

Mark rolled over to face her. They were feet apart, but that was still to
o close.

“Listen—“ Mark said
, “—I don’t want you to—“

“I’d rather we didn’t talk about it.”

“Nothing happened.”

Something most certainly had happened. She’d acted like a pathetic
, desperately lonely idiot. She should get up. Maybe he’d take the hint and leave. Mark reached across and touched her cheek.

“You look like hell!”

This unexpected insult made Madeleine laugh. She jumped out of bed and fled to the bathroom.

Mark was right, she did look like hell. She camped out in the bathroom as long as possible, hoping to hear the front door
open and shut behind him. Instead, she heard rattling downstairs in the kitchen.

Then
, the unthinkable happened. The doorbell rang. The doorbell ringing at 10 o’clock on a Saturday morning could mean only one thing. It would be Chad on the doorstep, claiming that Emily had forgotten something so essential that he had to invade the only scrap of alone-time she ever got.

Madeleine suspected that these little excursions to retrieve forgotten items rarely originated with Emily
. Chad might value his freedom to sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, but he wasn’t too keen on Madeleine doing the same.

Mark was downstairs in the kitchen. Chad would put two and two together and make seven. And Mark was still wearing that ridiculous
Santa beard. He looked like a weirdo. A hot weirdo, but a weirdo never-the-less.

Please don’t answer the door, she silently begged
as she raced toward the stairs. Please, please, please don’t answer the door.

She was too late. Mark was opening the door. Sure enough
, it was Chad. At least he was alone. Emily must be waiting in the car with Carmen, Chad’s latest girl-friend.

“Hi,” Mark was saying.

Chad appeared speechless. Madeleine had never seen a speechless Chad.

“How can I help you?” Mark tried again.

“Uh—I ah—I mean I just—“

Madeleine interrupted this gratifying display of confusion.

“Hello, Chad.”

“Hello, Maddy.”

Chad always called her Maddy. Madeleine hated the nickname. How had she never gotten around to telling him so?

“I expect you’re here to get something for Emily.”

“Uh—“

“Well, come in.”

Madeleine was finding this a lot more fun than she’d expected.

“I’d better check on my eggs,” said Mark.

Eggs. Mark was making breakfast. In all their years together, Chad had never once cooked breakfast for her.

Chad came inside and stood there
.

“What
did Emily forget?”

“Oh, her plaid coat
,” Chad said, but made no move to take the little pink and green plaid coat in question off the hall coat-tree. “Maddy, who is that?”

“Oh, that’s Mark
,” Madeleine answered.

“No, I don’t care what his name is. I mean
:
Who
is he?”

“Some
bum I picked up down by the tracks. He’s amazing. He’s so good in bed that I almost forgot about his highly contagious and potentially disfiguring STD. He tells me he’s wanted by the FBI, but I expect that it’s all just a little misunderstanding.”

“OK, OK!” Chad was holding up his hands as if to defend himself from a frontal attack. Chad had never appreciated Madeleine’s sense of humor.

“Well, ask a stupid question—“

“It’s not a stupid question. My daughter lives here. In case you’ve forgotten.”

Madeleine lost it.

“
You are unbelievable! How many overnight guests have you had in the last six months?  Mark is the first man who’s spent the night, well—since you moved out! And Emily is not even here, in case you hadn’t noticed. I can’t believe you’re standing here lecturing me on—“

“Women have to be more careful. There are a lot of creeps out there.”

Madeleine wanted to pick up the umbrella stand and break it over his head.

“You’re right. There are a lot of creeps out there
. And you know what? The biggest creep I know is standing right in front of me.”

Chad laughed. He’d always
said it turned him on to see her angry. Knowing this made Madeleine even angrier.

“Get out! Take the jacket and leave!”

Chad was still laughing. He took the jacket down off the coat-tree, but made no move to leave.

“Out!” Madeleine was practically screaming. Mark came out of the kitchen. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I think the lady asked you to leave, mate,” he said to Chad.

“Don’t call me mate.”

“Alright.” Mark held Madeleine a little tighter. “I’ll make myself clear. Walk out that door and shut it behind you.”

“This guy is a trip!” Chad said to Madeleine. “You sure you’re safe here alone with him?
He has an even bigger temper than you.”

Madeleine was so angry she was shaking. She didn’t dare speak. She wanted to kill
her ex-husband.

Mark let go of her and walked toward Chad. He was shorter than Chad by several inches, but he was much more muscular and it was obvious to Madeleine that a fight between the two wouldn’t come out in Chad’s favor.
Chad realized that, too. He backed out the door, but as he walked down the sidewalk he turned back to fire a parting shot.

“You
should know you’ve got a card-carrying ice-queen on your hands. Get used to getting it somewhere else,” Chad said to Mark. Then he added a kicker obviously meant for Madeleine. “You know you drove me to it! None of this is my fault and you know it.”

Madeleine lunged out the door, but Mark pulled her back.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” he said.

Madeleine was still shaking. She buried her head in Mark’s chest. He might turn out to be an even bigger jerk than her ex-husband, but
, at the moment, he was warm and strong and smelled like sweat and cologne and a hint of frying bacon.

Mark held her for a few minutes, stroking her back. Finally
, he gently detached her.

“What you need
—“ he announced, “—is something to eat.”
 

Mark
watched Madeleine eating eggs. She was so cute. He had an ache in his chest that could mean only one thing. He hadn’t just been in love with the long-ago Madeleine. He was half-way to being in love with the present-day version, all 5 foot 3 of her pathetic messed-up little self.

Not that he was in
any better shape himself. A man who had to resort to playing Santa at the mall to make rent wasn’t much of a catch. This was so not how he’d planned for his life to turn out. By this time, he’d expected to own his own chain of gyms—or at least one. But no. He didn’t even own the furniture in the houseboat he rented. He didn’t own anything but the clothes on his back. That was it. Well, if you didn’t count Festus.

Festus
! The poor dog hadn’t been walked since yesterday afternoon. No telling what kind of mess he’d made.

“Madeleine, I just remembered something I have do.”

Madeleine looked up from her eggs. He couldn’t tell if that was a look of disappointment or relief. One moment, he’d think he could read her like a book and then she’d go all coy and he didn’t have a clue.

“Sure,” she said, like she didn’t care one way or the other. “Thanks for the eggs and—
with Chad.”

“I can throw my weight around when the occasion calls for it.”

“Yes, you certainly can.”

Mark walked around to her side of the table and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’ll run upstairs and get my coat and then I’ll be out of your way.”

He didn’t give her time to reply. He took the stairs two at a time
up and down again. He slid across the slick hardwood floor of the entry and flung open the front door.

“Bye!” he yelled in the direction of the kitchen.
He didn’t wait for a reply.

Mark started
his ignition. Her number! He didn’t have her number! He almost turned off the engine and went back in, but changed his mind. He’d ask Ami for it. That was better. There were a few questions he’d like to ask Ami. He’d have asked Madeleine herself, but he didn’t have the nerve.

Festus had made a mess. He regarded Mark with solemn reproach in the doggy way that bulldogs have perfected. Mark
got his Santa beard off and took Festus out for a quick run. Then he sat out on his deck. He pulled Ami’s card out of his wallet. He dialed her number and patted Festus on the head while he waited for her to pick up.
 

Madeleine
lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, phone to her ear. Ami had temporarily abandoned her in the middle of a call. She’d be right back, Ami promised. Someone else was calling and she had to pick up. Madeleine looked over at the other side of the bed.

There was still an indent in the bedspread where Mark had been laying. She reach over and placed her
hand in the middle of it and then quickly withdrew her hand. Silly. Very silly.

Still, last night had proved that
Mark definitely wasn’t the player she’d thought he was. Players don’t put tipsy women to bed fully clothed and then spend the rest of the night sleeping on top of the bedspread wrapped in their coats. It was sweet. Or was it? Maybe it meant that he wasn’t attracted to her anymore. Pathetic groveling was a definite turn-off. He was going to disappear out of her life, she just knew it. Maybe that’s what she wanted. She couldn’t make up her mind. One minute she couldn’t wait to see him again. The next minute she was mentally scheming ways to fake her own disappearance to avoid facing him again.

“So
, that was your Mark.” Ami was back.

“He’s not my Mark.”

“He isn’t? Well, you could have fooled me—“

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Don’t you want to know what he wanted?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come on. It’s me. Ami. Your sister. You don’t have to play coy with me. In fact—“

“Fine. Tell me.”

“He wanted your number.”

“Oh.”

“I found it odd that he had to ask me for it, considering that you spent the night together.”

“How did you know that?”

“Mark may have let something slip out.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I hear he cooked you breakfast.”

“That’s true.”

“Tell me, does he cook naked?”

“
Ami!”

“So
, he wears an apron to protect his valuables—that’s still kind of hot.“

Madeleine shook her head, trying to shake the image of Mark naked in the kitchen. Then she took a deep breath.
Ami was right. If she couldn’t be honest with her own sister, who could she be honest with?

“
Ami, I really like him. Am I nuts?”

“No. I am 100% sure you are not nuts.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Let’s just say
, I know something you don’t.”

“What do you know?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Tell me!”

“Well, if I told you it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, now would it?”

“I don’t
get it.”

“No, I don’t imagine you would. Mark will call
and he’ll tell you something that will blow your mind.”