Toronto, Ontario CANADA

Christmas Eve

8:20pm

It was a crisp wintery night in the city. The streets were busy with the frantic shoppers, grid locked traffic and workers trying to keep the keep the sidewalks clear of the ever mounting snow blanketing the busy city.  But while it was transforming the well lit metropolis into a winter wonderland, the sounds of bells and singing holiday melodies drifted over the air of non-stop honking cars and street life.

It is in moments of these that the feeling of joy and good tidings would inspire many people; sharing a good gesture, helping those out who are in need and visiting the sick to spread cheer. Watching from high above the window of the children’s hospital, nine-year-old Ella Darcy was not one of the lucky ones getting any visits.

She didn’t enjoy the holiday and wanted nothing to do with the volunteer staff who showed up to bring some of that holiday cheer. Instead, she sat in her hospital room alone, watching the people down below the city going crazy over this one day of the year.

She rubbed her bald head and sighed with discontentment. Cancer had been with her for nearly two years and she wasn’t getting any better. She remembered having full locks of black curly hair - but slowly the disease and the chemo rid her of those precious curls.

On her tray table beside the bed was the note from her mother saying she’d be back to see her sometime tonight. It didn’t say when exactly. But she knew her mother had to work late on a night like this. She was a police officer taking any shifts she could to book extra time off to be with her daughter. Her father was a busy lawyer who never really came by.

Not because he didn’t want to, and not because he didn’t love her, but the divorce of her two parents had turned bitter, neither one could be in the room long enough with each other. The shouting and arguing about things of the past, financial situations and even about visitations to the hospital. They couldn’t share a room if they tried. Not even when Ella asked or begged of them to do so.

The little girl walked over to the door and closed it off from all the sounds of laughing and happy children. They were singing carols and ringing bells as the staff handed out treats. It seemed like they at least would get joy from the season if only for the briefest of moments.

Ella shed a tear and switched off the lights. Christmas wasn’t  merry a time for her. She shuffled over to the bed and laid down in a sombre mood.

“Christmas sucks.” She said to herself. “I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live. I don’t know what I want anymore. Listen to them, so stupidly happy and giggling. Shut up already! There’s nothing to be so joyful about. All of you can go away for all I care.”

The constant sounds of their laughter and joy made her curl up in the bed. A bitter sneer formed on her lips and she tried to bury herself with her right arm. Anything to muffle the noise of heartfelt happiness.

“I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

“Sounds like you all right.” A voice spoke from the corner of the darkened room. “Just like last year and the year before that.” 

“Who’s there?” Ella shot up with horror. “Who’s in my room? Thomas Bradley, if that’s you again I’m gonna punch you in that gimpy arm again!”

“Thomas Bradley?” The shrouded figure questioned in thought. “Oh, yes—I remember that one. He scared you a few times didn’t he?” A slight chuckle arose as he continued to speak. “Definitely not a good way to stay off the naughty list. But, try not to be too hard on him. It was a rough year for poor Bradley, as well. He was too shy to apologize to you. Maybe I’ll give him a gentle reminder about that. Yes?”

Ella could now see the person sitting in the corner. He was an old white man with white hair and beard. He was dressed in red with a white fur-trimmed coat and hat. She thought it was just her imagination, the meds kicking in and giving her one heck of an illusion. But then a sudden realization came upon her face and made her realize who this was—or was supposed to be.

“Santa?” She said with surprise.

He arose into the light, the jolly looking man walked over to the girl with a beaming smile. The man’s presence left her stunned and curled up her legs to her chest. He held his black belt with the sliver buckle and gave a delighted (and all too familiar) chuckle while watching her reaction.

“No way,” She finally muttered. “You’re not real. Get out of my room! You’re just some creepy man in a Santa suit. I’m gonna tell the nurse you came in and-and—”

“Ella, Ella, Ella,” Santa shook his head disappointedly. “You still don’t believe do you. Even when I’m standing right here. You're just like your parents, always needing proof and facts.”

“You don’t know me!” She scoffed. “You know nothing about me or my folks!”

“Ella Darcy, of 360 Bell Street, Georgetown,” He said with authority. “The house with the red brick, yellow porch and the damaged swing set in the backyard, if I remember correctly; you shouldn’t have blamed a friend for that. You broke it and were afraid your parents would punish you for it. But then, that was around the time they started fighting, and they forgot about fixing it till you moved out.”

Again the girl stared in wonder. Thinking hard for a moment, she remembered that it was her that broke the swings. It terrified Ella that he knew so many details. But for someone to know that much and about how she felt, seemed impossible, or was it? Perhaps it was true—he is Santa Claus. 

The really, real Santa Claus and not some guy from the hospital party. She was amazed by his presence. Santa was just as she imagined, a thick and curly snowy white beard with a moustache hung like rounded hooks. It complimented his kind and tender smile he continually gave. She quickly sat up in bed and smiled back.

This was a moment she never thought would happen in a million years.

“It is you! I don’t believe it. You actually exist.”

“Yes, I do.” He nodded. “Thank you so much for finally seeing it. Now then, before I forget, I have the letter you sent to me. Which is why I’m here…”

“The letter?” Ella questioned. “What letter?”

“This one-” Santa said as he took it out of his pocket. “The letter you wrote to me about wanting nothing but three things. Hard not to miss when it’s written so clear and bold on the front.”

“I remember, yeah, but that was last year.” She said looking at the wrinkled and yellowing letter; the odour of the black cherry marker she had used remained strong. Ella cocked her head to the side. “What took you so long?”

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He placed the letter on the table next to her and sat down beside her. Santa paused in thought while he eyed Ella looking at him with confusion. With a slow sigh and stroke of his white beard, he finally gave an explanation.

“Ella, I wasn’t sure what I could do. You wanted me to cure your cancer, mend your parents’ marriage and take you back to that old house of yours.  Then I saw your list of ‘demands’ or rather the many questions about me, the North Pole, Mrs. Claus and all the other ones, dear me. I wasn’t sure how to respond. But was the three things you wanted for Christmas that made me take notice. I’m so sorry, my dear girl. But some things are beyond my powers. I can’t cure people and I’m not a healer of marriages. The house belongs to a new family; Did you know they even kept the swing and fixed it?”

“Oh…” She said with disappointment.

The thought of someone else in her home, swinging on her favourite swing, depressed her even more. She gave a quiet sigh of disappointment and lowered her head.

“The one thing that made me come to see you,” Santa continued. “Was that last statement you made in it. You said that, ‘God was a myth’, and that I was more a saviour than he. That it was better to ask me to cure you then asking something that doesn’t have a face to talk too.”

“You being here proves it.” She smiled. “Don’t you see? Your real and it’s not.”

“It?” Santa frowned. “God is an ‘it’ to you?”

“God is just a figment of imagination that humans made up to make themselves feel better. And no one religious group believe in the same one. Did you now know that?  They think it’s going to come and save them all. A quick prayer and they’re miraculous cured!  Shows what they know, huh? And then, there the others who say God is dead-and-and…”

“Enough,” Santa said raising his hand. “You know, Ella, people are not crazy for wanting faith. It’s what keeps humanity together in times of need, to find believe in wonders far beyond the facts, well, takes a leap of faith. Sometimes, there are no answers, no quick explanation of who, what, why or how. So if there is no rational answer for them, where does one go from there? I had the same run around conversation with Stephen Hawking once. There was a man who liked a challenge. He could believe in something like dark matter and wormholes, but nothing for a God that controls it all?”

“Really? You visited Hawking? The science guy?” The girl laughed.

“A stubborn man if I ever met one.” He grumbled with a furrowed brow. “But I had to remind him of who gave him those books of  Einstein’s theories when he was a boy; the figment of his imagination by his bedside, and to show him that some things are not always visible in the stars for him to see or touch.”

“Even he said God wasn’t real.” Ella smirked. “Just a bunch of fantasies humanity created to make themselves feel better.”

“Well, that’s not exactly what he said.” Santa chuckled as he patted her leg. “But I’m sure that was his general argument. He believed more in the universe than the higher power that created it. But we all see God in many forms. Some see it in science and mathematical equations,  and others just the state of being who they are. I see God in all of you, and the wonder of life all around us each and every day.”

“M’kay-” The girl said looking bored. The subject matter clearly going beyond what she was capable of debating. “Let’s talk about the other questions I gave you.” She opened the letter and showed them. “You know, like—how did you become you? How did you meet Mrs. Claus and when did you meet her? Why are you all these different names and not just Santa Claus?”

The jolly man just laughed again and smiled at her. He could see she was hard pressed to get answers, but was glad he could have her think of something else other than her current state of health. He pursed his lips and thought about the questions she pointed at.

Taking the letter gently, he strained eyes while pursuing at them, and let out a barely audible breath of frustration. He passively glanced back and noticed the anticipation Ella reflected. The girl eagerly awaited as Santa struggled to give the answers she sought.

He stood up for a moment, walked over to the window and took in the city’s sight. The snow had covered the city and glistened with its numerous lights. But it was the Christmas lights that notably adorned the many shops and building fronts, giving that multi-coloured glow one would expect of the season.

From the main view, he could see City Hall; a large decorated Christmas tree stood proudly in the centre and shimmered with twinkling, soft LED lights strung all around it. He tapped his black belt to the tune of 'Carol of the Bells’ that was being played outside in the hospital hall and glanced back to Ella. 

“Do you hear that song?”

“Yeah, Carol of the Bells-” She shrugged hesitantly at him. “What of it?”

“You and your parents used to sing it every Christmas together. That was your tradition, you would be the first verse, then your father, and then your mother would join in…”

“You’re stalling Mr. Claus.” She said with folded arms. “I think you're afraid to answer them.”

Tapping his belt again to the tune, the white-bearded saint continued to study her face. It was like was looking for something or waiting for a reaction, of a sorts. But then a gleam of realization came into his eye and his smile returned in full. With a confident stroll, Santa stood by her bed, rubbed his beard and leaned in close.

“I will make a bargain with you.” He said to her (still grinning). “I’ll give you the answers, through my stories, in exchange you will give something back to me.”

“Okay, like what?”

“I’ll let you know at the end. Do we have a deal?” He said stroking his beard one last time.

“Hey, I’m not some dumb kid here.” Ella sharply quipped. “My dad’s a lawyer and my mom is cop, so I’m not gonna get trapped into something I can’t get out of.”

Claus laughed again in his usual manner. She was a spunky child for sure. He liked her ‘no nonsense’ replies; There was no need to soften the conversation as she was more than willing to be honest back to him. That’s what Santa could sense from her.

The red-suited man returned to sit on her bed and stared back at her. She could see his eyes where of the deepest of ocean blue; They were mesmerizing to look at, they shimmered like ice, tranquil and serene. He tried to be equally forward with her, as well. A slight shiver came down Ella’s back while confronting this icon of Christmas—it was a bit intimidating.

“Ella, I know you’re smart.” He said with a grin. “I’m not one to back down either. I’ll leave right now, no stories or answers to questions, but that’s only if you don’t agree to my proposal. What I will offer you at the end might be a chance too good to pass up. Consider it an extra gift that few have ever been given. I’m only offering this once and never again. So, do you agree or do I go back on my sleigh, and head back to the North pole?”

“So you do live at the North pole!” The girl grinned with a pointed finger at him. “Hah! That’s one question answered. I didn’t have to listen to any story or agree to anything.”

Santa frowned for a moment and slapped the bed in frustration. This girl confounded him. She was definitely the daughter of a cop and lawyer. So focused on getting answers out of him it was like being in a courtroom or police interrogation.

It was not the response he wanted to hear and he made it clear the girl understood that as well. Santa Claus stood up and took the letter back from her. He folded it up and placed it back in his pocket. He looked at her again with disappointment and walked away.

Ella’s smile diminished and quickly shot out of bed to stop him from leaving. A moment of weakness came in her legs as she rushed halfway to stop him and collapsed to the floor.  The room was spinning in her mind and she coughed uncontrollably.

Santa quickly came over to her aid and helped her back onto the bed. The girl breathed rapidly and coughed in pain. The Cancer in her was getting worst and the sudden excitement must have too much for her. As the cough subsided and her breathing returned to normal, she held the man’s white gloved hand tightly and brought him closer for a hug. She cried in his arms and cursed the disease for making her so sick.

“I’m so sorry my child.” Santa Claus held her tight and patted her head lovingly. “It's terrible what you must endure. But this too shall pass in time.”

“I don’t—I don’t want it. I don’t want to die, Santa.” She quivered in response. “Please, don’t go. I’ll agree to whatever you want. Tell those stories of yours. Just don’t leave me. Don’t leave me to die alone. I’m sorry. I believe in you, I agree to your terms.”

A bell chimed outside in the hallway as she agreed. Suddenly all the sound in the hallway halted; The laughing, the music, the merriment just beyond her door. The city had gone mute as well. She couldn’t hear blaring car horns, sirens or general background noise.

A bell chimed again as the girl looked up at the wall clock opposite of her bed and gasped. The clock had stopped, and the room was quiet. Everything was quiet. Santa Claus pulled away from her and wiped the tears with his white gloved hand. 

The grin on his face gave the girl reassurance that everything would be fine. Ella failed to understand why. A level of trust and kindness that was beyond description in her mind. It didn’t matter; she agreed to his bargain and wanted answers he promised her.