Chapter Text
So, it all comes down to this. After almost a year of talking a big game, it's time to put up or shut up.
I look back up. There isn't a cloud in sight unless Dimsy's theory about the Earth being one big cloud is true. The sky blue fades into the white snow, pine trees poke out of the ground like gophers, and not a single gasp of wind traces against my skin. There's no doubt about it: today is the perfect day to go sledding.
Rolling back my shoulders, I stand up straight and pat my cheeks with my mittened hands. I run through this short yet complicated descent. Every tilt, every turn, every bump is sketched out in my mind, pushing back whatever my mom said during breakfast this morning. Something about wood polish, probably.
And with one more deep breath, I feel just about–
"Are we going yet?"
Groaning, I turn around and frown at my small backseat driver. "Elsie, you threw off my groove!"
With no sense of sympathy, the remorseless little girl replies, "It's been five and a half minutes. You've just been sitting there breathing and looking at the sky."
"It's a part of my process," I argue. "All great sledders have a process– a mental checklist– that they go through before each ride."
Elsie rolls her eyes, "Just admit that you don't know how to sled."
A few weeks ago, Elsie innocently asked if I, the reigning and defending Santa Claus, even learned how to steer my own sled considering all the fancy technology I have on board. Even after showing her how the sled works– and reminding her that she saw me steer the thing last Christmas– she still wasn't convinced of my sledding prowess. Which is how we ended up on a hill outside the village entrance: the proving grounds.
I respond calmly and maturely to her goading words, "Shut up! Your face doesn't know how to sled."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Whatever. Hold on tight." I scoot the sled forward by pushing against the snow underneath. "And I hope you're hungry, because I'm about to make you eat your words."
Elsie wraps her arms around my stomach as we pick up speed. I want to tell her that there are handles next to her for a reason, but I have a feeling she's more comfortable this way.
The ride is smooth and uneventful for the first few seconds as we travel at a comfortable pace. But as we accelerate, the slight unevenness of the terrain accentuates every bump and makes the thick plastic rumble. I feel a familiar tightness in my stomach, but that makes me more excited than worried. This is my comfort zone.
I lean over and drag my hand across the snow, steering the sled away from fallen branches and large, protruding rocks. The obstacles get blurrier and blurrier, and some total amateur would probably freak out about that, but I know this route like the back of my hand. I take a turn much sharper than usual just to show off, but when I hear Elsie yelp, I decide to play it safe.
When we're nearing the end, I punch my hand into the snow to slow us down. But instead of hitting soft, white powder, my mitten hits something thick, goopy, and…green? The unexpected grossness makes me gag as I desperately pull the mitten off and toss it into the snow, which gives me time to…
Well, it gives me time to feel our sled tip and topple (tipple?) from the high speeds. My insides push up against my throat as the ground turns into the sky and the sled leaves our butts. My final thought before I lose sight of Elsie and land face first into the snow is: Ah chestnuts, Elsa's going to kill me.
Contrary to what others might say, landing in snow is not like landing on a pillow. It's more like landing in a bowl of crushed ice cubes, and sometimes there's leaves and dirt and stuff. As soon as I'm certain that my body has finished it's crash landing, I pick my face out of the floor and frantically look for Elsie. I find her a few feet away from me, motionless and flat on her back.
"Elsie!" I yell as I scramble on my hands and knees towards her. "Are you alright?!"
I fear the worst when she doesn't answer right away, but then she punches her arms up in the air and shouts, "That was awesome!" And I know we'll both live to see another day.
We make it back to the village without any other problems. I drag the sled behind me as Elsie sits on it, retelling every moment of our thirty-second ride like it was an hours-long epic. At first, it's fun hearing her version of it, but when she starts exaggerating the amount of obstacles and how high we flew on our wipeout, I realize that we'll need to get our stories straight.
"Elsie, I'm glad you had a lot of fun, but, uh…" I bite my lip and turn back to her. "Maybe you shouldn't tell your sister about the whole 'falling out of the sled' part."
Elsie looks at me like I just told her I eat beans on toast. "Why wouldn't I? That was the coolest part."
"I just don't want her to freak out, I'm trying to show her that I'm trustworthy and responsible, and other stuff like that."
"Anna, you're Santa Claus," she says, like I must have forgotten. "That's like the most trustworthy and responsible job in the whole world."
"Well yeah, but this is…different." I shake my head and try to focus back on the trail to home. "It's hard to explain, but it'll make sense when you're older. Trust me."
"I'm almost ten!" Elsie protests. "And Ms. Berry says I'm the best 'line leader' in my class."
I chuckle, "Wait until you're my age, that's how old you'll have to be."
She groans, "That's gonna take forever!" Gee thanks, kid.
The villagers greet us with cheerful waves when we return. Humans and elves are out and about, putting the finishing touches on their Thanksgiving decorations. Cartoon turkeys are frosted onto window panes next to glittery autumn leaves. The air is sweet with the mingling aromas of pumpkin, cinnamon, and the still-secret-ingredient of Mama Wanda's Extra Special Eggnog. When we reach my house, I see my mom fretting over a few ornaments on our tree. The second she catches our eye, her face lights up and she rushes out the door to greet us.
"Welcome back!" she says as she envelops me and Elsie in a tight hug. "How was it?"
"It was so cool! We wiped out at the end and I did like twenty flips in the air!" Elsie exclaimed.
"What?!"
"Elsie!" I say, cringing.
"What? You never said I couldn't tell your mom."
Immediately, the doting starts. My mom coos as she looks Elsie over, patting her down like she's expecting a couple of bones to shake loose. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asks, and before either of us can even answer, she's standing up and pressing her hands against my cheeks. "You don't look hurt, but maybe something internal–"
"Mom, we're fine," I assure her as I take her hands off my face. "And it wasn't twenty flips, it was more like one or two." I hope.
"Gah! I knew it, I should have come with you," she says with a bit too much despair. With a click of her tongue, she adds, "Come inside now, both of you. Elise, rest your head on the couch while I make you some hot chocolate. Anna, you get out of those clothes before you catch a cold."
I roll my eyes. She knows that I haven't had a cold since I was twelve, but there's no point in bringing that up. "Love you too, mom."
We head inside and Elsie gives me a not-guilty-enough grin before sitting on the couch. With the small child's safety accounted for, I slip off my boots, and make my way upstairs to get changed again.
…but not before taking a detour to the guest room.
Part of me wants to barge right in, flop onto the bed, and cuddle right up to my wonderful girlfriend like a cat. But I'm able to show enough restraint at the last second to knock on the door instead.
"Come in."
I open the door and the sight almost takes my breath away. Elsa is sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking snug in her wrinkled shirt and plaid pajama bottoms with one of the leg sleeves rolled up to above her calf. Her hair falls loosely across her shoulders like a silvery-blonde blanket, and though she's busy rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she's all smiles. At me.
My knees almost buckle from the thought.
"Morning," she says with a slightly raspy voice.
"Good morning," I reply as I let out a breathtaking breath. "Gosh, you are so gorgeous, you know that?"
Elsa frowns, her shoulders hunching uncharacteristically. "What are you talking about? I look terrible?"
"Terribly beautiful!"
"If you say so." She shifts closer to the edge of the bed, making some room for me which I gladly take up. As I kiss her on her cheek, her warm skin makes me forget I was ever outside in the snow. That is until Elsa mentions it. "You're cold. Were you just outside?"
I try to choose my next words carefully. "Yeah. Elsie and I were."
"Both of you? What were you doing?"
"Nothing dangerous, just–"
Elsa gasps and sits up, already piecing the pieces together. "Did you take her sledding? What happened? Are you okay? Is she okay?"
I flinch like I just stubbed my toe. "Uh, whoa there. She's fine, I took her to a route I've been on hundreds of times. The only way she could have been any safer is if I covered her in bubble wrap."
For a moment, all I can do is watch and wait as the fear in Elsa's eyes softens. Finally, she closes her eyes and sighs, softening her rigid posture. "You're right. Of course she's fine, there's no one else I'd trust her out there with more than you."
I want to ask if she's sure about that, because it really doesn't seem so. But I bite my tongue before I say anything that stupid. The last time we argued about this, I…well, it's just not a good idea to say anything.
She scoots back towards me, her thigh pressing against mine. Her hand clutching mine. Her eyes captivating mine. "Did she like it?"
"I think she loved it."
"I'm so glad. She's been talking about going sledding with you ever since we started planning this trip."
"You should join us next time," I suggest without thinking.
"Oh, high speeds don't agree with me– or, at least, my stomach." She sighs, "Besides, you know we're going back today…"
I let out a heavier sigh, "Are you sure you can't stay one more day?"
"You know I've already used up all my PTO, darling," she answers sadly. "Besides, if I stay any longer…I might never want to go back."
"And that's a bad thing because…?"
Elsa chuckles and tilts her head up to kiss me. It's not the answer I'm expecting, but I'm definitely not going to complain. I return the kiss, gripping the sheets to keep myself from turning it into anything more. Santa has needs, but she also has self control.
She breaks the kiss much earlier than I want her to– and judging by the way she bites her lip, it's earlier than she's wanting as well. "We should probably head downstairs," she says softly.
I kiss her one more time, forcing myself to keep it to just a peck on the lips, and nuzzle against the crook of her neck. "I guess we should."
By the time we actually make it downstairs, the smell of breakfast has wafted throughout the entire house. A wonderful spread of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and potatoes adorns the dining room table, and my mom is asking Elsie if she has enough on her plate.
Yes, Elsie responds emphatically, she does have enough.
Breakfast is as normal as it gets, though if you told me a year ago that this would be my "normal", I would have asked you what you were doing in my house. As I roll my pancake up like a tortilla and dip it into my syrup, my mom is asking Elsa questions about her stay this week. Elsa is so polite with her answers, it's adorable.
She has been the perfect gentlelady this entire time, always eager to help my mom with work around the house and taking a formal ten seconds to simply ask if she can use the bathroom. My mom has tried telling her that she doesn't need to be so polite, but Elsa really can't help herself. On their second night here, I caught her bumbling around our kitchen in the dark trying to get a glass of water. She didn't want to turn on the lights and waste our electricity.
I sincerely love this woman…too bad I'm too much of a coward to say it to her.
When breakfast ends, Elsie darts upstairs to start packing while Elsa insists on washing the dishes. My mom ends up volunteering me for the job, giving me an all-too-familiar look while doing so, and suggests that Elsa help her sister instead.
"Are you sure? It's really not a problem," Elsa insists.
But my mom is even more insistent. She places her hands on Elsa's arms and speaks with gentle strength, "Elsa, you are– and always will be– a guest in this house. All I will ever ask you to do is make sure my daughter is happy and healthy. Okay?"
Elsa's cheeks turn a soft shade of pink as she looks from my mom to me. "I- okay. I can do that."
My mom dismisses her with a pat on her arm and soon it's just us in the kitchen. I wait until I hear the sound of footsteps dissipating followed by silence. And then I ask my mom, "You gave me the look. Your 'we need to talk' look."
"Yes we do." She crosses her arms and studies my now concerned expression. "What are you doing?"
I raise an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"
"Elsa spent the last five days under our roof to celebrate your anniversary, and I've seen everything I need to know. She looks at you the exact same way I looked at your father, and you look at her like she's the sun and stars. There's love here." She makes a twirling gesture with her finger. "And yet I didn't hear you say that word once."
My face drops, "You don't think I've tried?"
"Have you?"
"Yes! I've wanted to tell her I love her so many times, but every time I try it's like…I don't know, it's like I forget how to speak! I'm starting to think I'm cursed or something."
"Believe me, I'd know if you were cursed," my mom replies offhandedly. She shakes her head, "Growing up, I taught you how to be assertive. To know what you want and what you're worth. And do you know why?"
"Because Santa needs to be assertive?"
"Because I didn't want you to live a life full of regrets." She walks up to me, picking a stray blonde hair off my shoulders. "You can't do this to yourself or Elsa. Tell her you love her; I just know she's been dying to hear it."
I think of all the times I should have said those three words, all the missed opportunities. The last time I worked up the courage to say it was when I had taken her and Elsie to the Arizona State Fair. A professional photographer had just taken our picture, and she snuggled up next to me, fawning over how cute the three of us looked in it. She looked so beautiful under the lights, and I couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I was to be with the two of them in this moment. But before I could say anything, a fight broke out at the high striker and that kinda took over the rest of the night.
That can't happen here, though. The only giant hammers we have at the North Pole are inflatable. I look toward the stairs and bite my lip, "...okay. Alright. I'll tell her while she's still here, it can be a cute anniversary present or something."
My mom frowns, "Uh, actually, there's something else you need to do first."
I also frown. "What is it?"
Ripping off the bandage, my mom replies, "The Council called during breakfast. They need to speak with you."
A weight falls in the pit of my stomach, clanging and banging down the existing and ever-growing pile. Great, I think to myself, what could possibly be wrong this time?