Karen looked out the airplane window as they landed. Three hours in the air had led them to this. The sky was dark gray, the grass was covered by a pitiful amount of snow, especially for mid-December, and the airport was just a concrete box.
“We are now arriving at Calgary International Airport; please make sure you take all your belongings with you. Thank you for flying with us.”
Her mom glanced at the carry-on bag at Karen’s feet. “Do you have everything?”
“I didn’t take anything out,” Karen grumbled. Why bother? she added silently. Most of her stuff had been packed and shipped out before they had left. Moving to Calgary from Toronto, during Christmas break— after her first semester in highschool. What had her parents been thinking? So what if Dad got a new job. Didn’t anybody care about her life?
Karen slung her bag over her shoulder, catching a stray piece of paper as it fell out of a side pocket. Before stuffing it back in her bag she looked at it. It was a picture of her older brother Damien in his uniform. He was in Afghanistan now, somewhere. He never did tell them where he was, no matter how much she or her family pestered him. He said it was for safety reasons, but Karen knew he was just trying to prevent them from worrying. It wasn’t working.
“Karen, let’s go!” her dad’s voice snapped her back to reality.
She carefully put the picture back in its place. “Coming.”
~~
Everything was unpacked just in time for Christmas Eve. Karen looked out the window in her room. She wouldn’t admit it, but she liked her new room better then her old one. It was bigger, and had a window seat. The only thing missing were the shelves for all her stuffed toys. She wouldn’t put that up though. Stuffed toys where for little kids, not fourteen year olds.
Snow fell gently outside. As she watched it, Karen remembered the times she and Damien had tried to stay up all night, just to catch Santa. Even though he knew the truth, he always pretended for her sake. He had done it so well, she hadn’t stopped believing until this year— the year he had left.
She shook her head and crawled into bed. Believing in Santa was just a kid’s dream. Something that didn’t matter when you got older. It wasn’t worth it. Not without somebody to share it with.
Karen turned over in the freezing sheets. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she brushed it away. It’s just the cold, she told herself. It’s just the cold.
~~
For the first time in her life Karen got up at seven a.m. on Christmas day. She had always woken up Damien at three just to see if Santa had come. She bit her lip at the memory and tromped downstairs. The tree had a mountain of presents under it, most of them marked “from Santa.” Karen sneered at her parents' effort. A new home, without Damien, and she was supposed to be cheered up by Santa? She crossed her arms as her parents came downstairs. This Christmas wouldn’t matter. It just wouldn’t.
Karen kept that resolve while opening presents. Manners had been drilled into her, so each gift got a murmured thank you, but that was it. She didn’t stop longer then necessary until the final gift. A battered envelope, with Damien's scrawled handwriting. Most people had a hard time reading it, but Karen had never had any trouble. She could easily read the label:
To- ‘Ren
From- Damim
Karen bit her lip. When she had been little she hadn’t been able to say his name properly. He’d shortened her name to get back at her, and both had just stuck. He was the only one that called her that, mostly when he wanted to irk her, but it was nice to see it again. She was surprised he even remembered.
She put the envelope in her housecoat pocket. “Can I go to my room now?”
Her mom sighed. “Yes. Go on.”
Karen ignored her parent’s whispers about her as she went up the stairs. She closed the door to her room and plonked herself down on the window seat. She opened the envelope as quietly as possible and pulled the letter out. She wasn’t surprised at the lack of a gift; Damien had always been horrible at picking out presents.
She read over the letter, fighting the urge to hop on a plane and go see what was going on for herself. Damien had always been good at telling them just enough that they wondered what was going on, but never enough information that they knew he was alright. It wasn’t until she reached the end of the letter that she stopped fidgeting.
Well, that’s everything. I hope you managed to catch Santa this year. Sorry I couldn’t be there to help you with that. I always stay up later than you! I sure hope it snows sometime around Christmas in Calgary. It’s just not Christmas without snow. Yes, that means it’s not really Christmas here. I heard it snows only once every seven years here? You’d be the person to ask. So, does it snow every seven years here?
Just giving you a little Christmas gift. I know how much you love looking up that stuff. Hope you’ll enjoy your new school. You know what they say, ‘when one door closes, another opens!’ And hey, maybe a little Christmas magic will rub off on your first day. All you need to do is believe.
Love,
Damien
P.S. - Keep dreaming, and keep believing! God knows, doing that has saved my sanity. But, that shouldn’t be a problem for you.
Karen rubbed her eyes, feeling her finger slide over dampness. But it is a problem. How can you dream, when your belief is gone?
Slowly she got up and put the letter on her nightstand. She went to her closet and dug under her out-of-season clothes to pull out the last unopened box. Karen picked up a pair of scissors from her desk and cut the packing tape. Inside the box were her favourite stuffed toys— the ones that had been on her shelf. She took them out and lined them up on her desk. The last toy in the box she placed front and center. Damien had given her that stuffed bear to protect her at night. Karen smiled at the thought she had believed that once upon a time. She was about to put the toy nearer the end of her desk when she stopped. She ran her fingers over the worn fur, remembering all the times she had hugged it and felt better. Karen hugged it again now. For a moment, just a moment, she felt Damien’s arms around her. She sighed and put the bear down, wishing he could be here to give her a hug for real.
The smell of pancakes wafted in from under her door. It looked like her mom was making her traditional Christmas pancakes. Karen remembered in Toronto, she and Damien would help her make them. This Christmas wasn’t supposed to matter though. But, they had always had so much fun…
Slowly Karen went into the hall and back downstairs.
“Need any help?”
~~
Another week went by, and Christmas break was over. Karen resented having her mom drive her to school; in Toronto she could have just taken the bus.
She made her way through the school to homeroom. There was an empty seat in the middle row, by the window. As Karen put her stuff down the teacher came in and asked her to introduce herself. Karen felt her cheeks turn red as she stood at the front of the class and said her name like a preschooler.
When she was finished, the teacher stood up. “Karen, since you’re the newest student, perhaps you’d like to share your favourite Christmas memory.”
Karen bit her lip. It seemed her homeroom teacher was also the creative writing teacher. “Well, my brother and I used to stay up and try to catch Santa. We never did though.”
A kid in class snorted. “You don’t really believe in Santa, do you?”
Karen was about to snap back that she didn’t, when Damien’s letter popped into her mind. Hadn’t he told her to believe?
“Yes, I do believe.”
She ducked her head at the onslaught of laughter from the classroom. Exactly the same thing would have happened in Toronto, had she ever said she still believed in Santa at thirteen. But it felt good to say it, even if she would be the laughing stock of the school for the next four years.
A girl at the back stood up. “Can I add something, Ms. Morin?”
The teacher nodded. “You may Becky.”
“Well, um,” Becky looked at Karen, then straitened her shoulders. “I believe in Santa too.”
Silence fell over the class. Karen smiled and went back to her seat. She glanced over her shoulder to Becky and waved slightly. Maybe, Damien was right. When one door closes, another opens, and Karen liked the door that had opened.
Karen turned to the front of the class, half-listening to the teacher talk about what would happen this year. She kept thinking about Damien, and how he would have been proud. She’d have to drop him a line and tell him about her first day of school.
As everybody left the classroom, Karen heard somebody behind her whisper,
“You don’t really believe in Santa, do you? That stuff's for little kids!”
She turned to face him, a smile spreading across her face. “Yes, I really do.”
Song used: Believe, by Josh Groban
. Now, let's get to work... not that there's any work to do...
