Seeing Is Believing

Joanie pulled her threadbare wool coat tighter around her as she walked, rubbing her numb, red nose with a sniff. Her feet were killing her after being on them all day, but sadly she couldn't go home yet. She still had one more shift to go. One more long, exhausting shift, to cap off the longest, most exhausting day of her life so far.

The shop windows she passed by on the street were all aglow with cheerful lights, glitter, and tinsel, mocking her glum mood. From somewhere up above, Christmas carols piped softly through the air. In the past, Joanie liked Christmas carols. That was before she had to listen to them on a constant loop, working several double shifts in a row. At this point, she would rather have an ice pick jammed in her eardrum than listen to one more "fa-la-la".

It wasn't like she could just quit though, no matter how good quitting sounded. After Ronny ran out on them, she was all Lucas had. Of course, it would be nice to track down that bastard and wring out all the alimony checks he'd skipped out on, but that usually required things like lawyers and private investigators. Joanie just didn't have the funds for that. Honestly, it didn't even seem worth it to try. Ronny was ex-military, trained in the Special Forces; if he chose to disappear, no one would ever find him unless he wanted to be found.

Joanie grit her teeth to keep them from chattering, blinking the falling snow out of her watery brown eyes. It just wasn't fair. Tonight was Christmas Eve; she should be back at their apartment, with Lucas and her sister, Rita. In a perfect world, that's where she'd be right now. Sitting down to a delicious dinner of turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings; helping Lucas and Rita decorate their Christmas tree; watching the excitement on his little face as he marveled at all the prettily wrapped packages underneath it; allowing him to open one gift before going to bed; unwinding with Rita over a warm mug of mulled wine; listening to Lucas sneak out of bed to the window, so he could watch for Santa Claus. Joanie's throat tightened up at that perfect image in her head... an image she knew could never be.

This year, they couldn't afford a turkey, or a tree. She could barely afford the single present she had squirreled away for him, which was wrapped in old newspaper under her bed. As far as Santa Claus, well, he certainly wasn't going to be visiting Lucas this year. He was almost eight years old now, so maybe it was finally time to tell him the truth. It was better in the long term, instead of making him think he was on the Naughty List forever.

Joanie shot a dirty look at the tenth Salvation Army Santa she passed, her ears drilled by the bell he was ringing. This was all his fault. Everyone was going ga-ga for the Fat Man, perpetuating the commercialism of the season. It made her sick to her stomach, and angry beyond words. Joanie made a silent oath that if she ever saw a Santa Claus again, she'd punch him right in his stupid, bearded face.

With her temper still simmering, Joanie made it at last to her second and final shift of the night. Bingley's Department Store was just as nauseatingly festive as the other stores around it, and her work station behind the gift-wrapping counter was no exception. She barely had time to unbutton her coat and grab her time card from the rack before her manager - Mr. Smudge - was standing right in front of her with his arms folded sourly across his chest.

"You're late," he grumped, "again! And on our busiest night of the year!"

Joanie bit back a scathing retort, swallowing her pride as she moved toward the clock to punch in. "I'm sorry, Mr. Smudge," she murmured, "I ran over at my other job at the diner, but I got here as fast as I could. It won't happen again."

"You're damn right about that," Mr. Smudge scoffed, snatching the time card from her hand, "You're fired!"

Joanie's chest caved in suddenly and all the wind was sucked out of her body, like she'd been sucker-punched in the gut. "You... n-no," she stammered, "Please, Mr. Smudge, I need this job!"

"You should've thought about that before you came dawdling in here half an hour behind schedule," Mr. Smudge growled, "...for the third time in a row, I might add! You're not even dressed for work, either! It's like you have no pride whatsoever in the Bingley's spirit!!"

Joanie looked down at her faded blue uniform dress, plastic nametag, and apron embroidered with "Mel's Diner". She'd left her other job so quickly, she hadn't had time to change. Her uniform for Bingley's was still in her bag, which she'd planned to slip into after she was on the clock. Before she could open it and explain everything to Mr. Smudge, he snapped his fingers and waved the store security guard over.

"Escort her out please, Hal," Mr. Smudge sniffed, poking his large, haughty nose in the air disgustedly. "You can collect your severance check on January 1st."

"What?!" Joanie balked, "I can't wait that long! I earned that money fair and square, and I need it now! How else am I going to feed my sister and my son?!"

"Don't know, don't care," Mr. Smudge sneered, "your next pay period is still two weeks out, and it's company policy to wait until said pay period has passed to collect your final payment! If you have a complaint, talk to the CEO... after he gets home from his family vacation in Aspen!"

Joanie wiped the spittle off her stinging red cheeks in outrage. It would have been extremely satisfying to haul off and slug Mr. Smudge on the spot, but Hal quickly laid a hand on her shoulder before she could. "Come on, Joanie," he urged quietly, "just do as he says. Please."

The gentle giant's calm touch immediately leeched out all of Joanie's anger. With her head hung low, she followed him to the store exit. Instead of drop-kicking her on the spot and going back to work, though, Hal pulled out his wallet and pressed a few wadded-up bills into her hand.

"It's not much," he admitted with a smile, "...but hopefully this should get you by until the first."

Joanie looked from the money in her fist to Hal and back a few times, stunned. "Hal, no," she stammered, "I can't!"

"Consider it a Christmas gift," Hal said, patting her shoulder again. "If you're really all that worried about it, you can pay me back after you get paid. Take care, Joanie... and Merry Christmas."

Joanie swallowed her pride and nodded her thanks silently, stuffing the money in her coat pocket as she plodded off down the snowy street. Hal's generous gift should keep her afloat until the New Year, but that didn't solve the bigger problem at hand. Without Bingley's, her current earnings were cut in half. It had taken her ages to find that job, and no one knew how long it would take for her to find another that paid half as well. After walking a block and a half away from Bingley's, Joanie sat down on the steps of an old brownstone building, rubbing her frostbitten nose and trying desperately to stop her lips from trembling.

"Hello there," a soft, elderly voice suddenly murmured to her left. "Rough night?"

Joanie looked up with a start, scrubbing her face with her coat sleeve. There was a portly little old man, smiling down at her with a grandfatherly warmth in his sparkling blue eyes. She hadn't heard him walk up on her, which was a little puzzling. The thick, leather soles of his well-worn boots and the metal tip of his cane should have made plenty of noise as he approached. He tipped his bowler-style hat at her politely and fiddled with the brass buttons on his old-fashioned red waistcoat as he stepped closer.

"Do you mind?" he asked, indicating the steps she was sitting on.

Joanie shook her head, brushing off her stupor, and slid over a little to clear the way for him. Based on how well he was dressed, she figured he must own the building behind her. He probably wanted to get past her to the door, but was too polite to tell her to beat it. To her surprise, however, he settled onto the stoop right beside her with a heavy sigh.

"Awfully cold out tonight," he mused, "too cold to let a lady sit out all by herself... especially if that lady happens to be in distress."

Joanie scoffed quietly, raking a loose strand of coppery hair out of her face. "Thanks, Pops," she muttered, "...but I'm doing fine. Everything is just hunky-dory tonight."

The old man settled back, twirling the silver head of his cane between his hands. "That a fact?" he asked, his cherry red lips pursed beneath the neatly trimmed white whiskers on his face. "Pardon me for saying so, Joanie, but you don't seem very hunky-dory."

Joanie looked at the funny little old man with a jolt of shock, sliding further away from him. "How the hell do you know my name?!" she snapped. "Just who do you think you are?!"

"Oh, I've known you for a long time," the old man said, winking one of his impossibly blue eyes at her, "...ever since you were born, in fact. I've watched you grow up, and I'm very proud of the woman you became."

Joanie kept her guard up, studying the old man's face and strange, out-of-date clothing. There was a certain, familiar air about him; she was sure she'd seen his face somewhere before... but for the life of her, she couldn't place it. Was he an estranged uncle? An old family friend she'd seen once as a little girl, and barely remembered? Neither seemed quite right.

"Who are you?" she asked again, a little more calmly this time.

The old man laid a finger alongside his nose with another wink, and Joanie swore she saw a sparkle of gold glittering in his eye. "Just a friend," he said, "You can call me Kris, if you like. Now that I've answered one of your questions, perhaps you can answer one of mine: why are you so sad, Joanie? It's Christmas Eve. No one should be sad tonight."

Joanie didn't know why, but Kris's warm, gentle bearing immediately put her at ease. With a sniff, she slid closer to him again, and she didn't pull away when she felt his hand on her back.

"My life just... sucks," she said, wiping her nose on the back of her trembling hand. "My husband left me in a lurch... I'm barely able to pay my bills... My sister's too ill to work, and my son... m-my son is everything to me, but I can't give him everything he deserves. And... i-if that's not bad enough, I just lost my job... over something I can't even control!"

Joanie fought the urge to break down crying on the spot - she never liked to show weakness, especially not in front of strangers - but she couldn't stop a rogue tear from rolling down her cheek. Before she could wipe it away, Kris pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it off for her.

"I'm very sorry to hear all that, Joanie," he said, and it sounded like he meant it. "You might not believe it now, but things will get better. All you need to do is have a little faith... and there's nothing wrong with asking for help from time to time if you need it."

"Help?" Joanie parroted harshly, "who the hell would ever help me?! I don't have anyone, except for my sister and my son!"

"Well, that's not entirely true, is it?" Kris asked. "I saw you with your friend Hal. He seems very willing to help you... and, of course, you have me."

Joanie sniffed sharply, blowing her nose on his handkerchief when he offered it again. "You?" she snuffled, "wh-what can you do?"

"Oh, plenty," Kris answered, his grin widening with mischief. "If you could have anything in the world right now, hypothetically speaking of course, what would it be? Anything at all... just name it."

Joanie bit her lip, shocked by how seriously she was considering the question. "Not having to worry about money would be great," she said, giggling weakly at her own wishful thinking. "Really, all I want is for my sister to be healthy, my son to be happy, and to be able to spend more time with them both."

Kris's eyes sparkled again, and he tapped his cane on the sidewalk sharply. The clack its metal tip made against the pavement was so loud, Joanie could actually feel the ground vibrating under her shoes. The fabric of the universe itself seemed to shift all around her, like the air was suddenly electric. The world suddenly seemed less dull, and the weight on her shoulders immediately was a half ton lighter.

"Done," Kris murmured, pulling himself to his feet with a quiet groan. "Well, I'd better get going now; I've got a pretty full schedule tonight. You'd better get on home, Joanie; Rita and Lucas are waiting for you. Oh, and Merry Christmas."

Joanie's jaw was on the ground as she watched the old man toddle off. She was very sure she hadn't mentioned her sister's name or her son's to Kris at all. Clearly she must have, though, if he knew them. She shook her head, dismissing their conversation entirely, and got going herself. Kris was just a nice, kooky old man. Still, it felt good to get things off her chest, even if it was to a kindly stranger with an open ear.

She was home by seven, much earlier than scheduled no thanks to Mr. Smudge. The moment she opened the door, Lucas rocketed into her arms with a gleeful shout.

"Momma, you're home!" he cried, nuzzling her stomach with joy. "Aunt Rita, look: Momma's back!"

Rita rolled into the apartment's small living room a moment later, looking up at her sister worriedly. Joanie just shook her head, mouthing, "we'll talk about it later," then leaned down to kiss her sister's pale cheek.

"I got off a little early tonight," Joanie said, which was only half a lie. "Did you eat yet? Have you taken your meds?"

"Yes, Mom, to both questions," Rita sighed, grinning wearily up at her sister. "The leftovers should still be warm, if you're hungry. I was just about to put this little guy to bed."

Lucas moaned loudly in protest. "No fair," he insisted, "tomorrow's Christmas! There's no way I can go to sleep now! Can't I stay up just a little later?! Please, Mom?!"

Joanie smiled warmly at her son's pleading green eyes. She could never say "no" to that look, even when his father wore the same one. "Okay," she agreed, "you can stay up for just a little while longer... but don't blame me if you're extra grumpy in the morning because of it!"

Although Joanie promised to explain everything to Rita, she didn't have the heart to break the news that night. Not while Lucas was so happy and the mood in their little apartment was so festive. Joanie wound up passing out on the couch within minutes of putting Lucas to bed anyway, and she stayed there until morning.

When Joanie awoke, she thought for sure she was still dreaming. A Christmas tree covered in lights, tinsel, and beautiful glass baubles stood proudly in the corner, with a mountain of gifts stacked under it. The flimsy strings of popcorn she and Rita hung over the doorway were gone, replaced by real holly garlands and a big, beautiful wreath. Above the radiator next to the TV, the stockings she'd put up - mostly for decoration - were so full they were practically falling off the wall.

Lucas had kittens when he bounded into the living room, absolutely squealing with delight. He kept chanting, "Santa came!", as he raced to the tree, examining it from all angles to best determine how to attack the loot beneath it. Rita wheeled in behind him, equally stunned by the display. She hurried into the kitchen afterwards to get breakfast started, but her loud gasp a few minutes later urged Joanie to her side. When Joanie got there, Rita was parked in front of the fridge. It was practically empty the night before, but now it was fully stocked with everything needed to provide a Norman Rockwell style feast. There was even a crockpot bubbling away on the counter, filled with freshly mulled wine, and two mugs ready to go beside it.

"Sis," Rita whispered, "did you do all this? How...?"

Joanie shook her head, too shocked to even speak. Before she could begin to think of an explanation, Lucas came sprinting to her side.

"I found this on the tree, Momma," he said, holding out a red envelope, "it's got your name on it!"

With shaking hands, Joanie took the envelope, marveling at her name spelled out on it in glittering gold ink. The letter it held brought her to tears immediately, her vision swimming so badly she could hardly read it:

"Merry Christmas, Joanie. You'll be glad to know Mr. Smudge suddenly had to leave the country indefinitely. His job is yours starting Monday morning. You can quit your job at the diner, and have funds to spare. Tell Lucas he was very good this year, and Rita should receive a great report from her doctor next week.

Your Dear Friend,

Kris Kringle"