santa_claus_is_real raze her mom told her santa claus was coming to their house after dinner. it didn't make any sense. it wasn't christmas yet. there wasn't any snow on the ground. it wasn't even that cold. but santa always left her the best presents under the christmas tree. she was excited. no one she knew had ever met santa claus. not even her grandma, and she knew everyone. she was so old, she even talked to god. she said god talked back, but she never told anyone what he said. her dad had to work. it was just her and her mom. there was a knock at the front door. "go see who it is," her mom said. she opened the door. it was santa. he had a red hat and a red suit and a big white beard. he had black boots and a big stomach and a belt. "ho, ho, ho!" he said. "merry_christmas!" she wanted to say, "no it isn't." santa walked into the living room. he sat down on the couch. her mom was washing dishes in the kitchen. "come sit on santa's lap," he said. she did. "have you been a good girl this year?" santa asked her. "yes," she said. santa always looked different in every picture and movie she saw. her mom said that was christmas magic. he had to change his face all the time to keep his identity a secret. only the children who were lucky enough to meet him got to see what he really looked like. she looked at santa's real face for the first time. his beard looked funny. she reached out and touched it. it didn't feel like real hair. it felt like the mop her mom used to wash the floor. his voice sounded funny. he sounded the way the car did when the engine wouldn't turn over. she looked in his eyes, and she looked at the slope of his nose, and she smelled his cologne mixed with stale air and sweat, and she knew why he had to use the christmas magic her mom told her about. santa didn't live in the north pole. he lived in her house. santa was the man who screamed at her when she wet the bed and made her cry so hard she threw up. santa was the man who grabbed her in the car when she sang along with the radio and almost dislocated her shoulder. santa took her home. he told her he was leaving and never coming back. she watched him drive away. she cried and went inside and ate kentucky fried chicken and coleslaw that burned the back of her throat. she was still eating when santa came back. he put his hand on her shoulder. it hurt. he kissed her on the forehead. "i'm sorry," he said. "that's what you always say," she said. "'i'm sorry. daddy loves you.'" he took his hand off her shoulder. "i don't have to take this shit," he said. "my own fucking kid. i'm out of here. i'm not coming back this time." he walked out and slammed the door. he came back twenty minutes later. he ate cold chicken that was more skin than meat and said he was sorry again. santa was the man who wanted a boy and got her instead. he got angry when she liked things boys were supposed to like. it reminded him of what he didn't have. "give me that," he said when he saw her playing with a monster truck she borrowed from one of her friends. "that's not a girl's toy." she went outside and played in the dirt with a plastic shovel. "stop that," he said. she sat on the front porch and stared at her shoes. "don't just sit there," he said. "go do something. play." santa was the man who watched her fall and hit her head on the coffee table when she was learning how to walk. he laughed and watched her try to stand up and fall down again. santa gave her a candy cane. he told her he was going to have his elves make a special present just for her. he stood up and winked at her. then he left. she looked down at the candy cane in her hand. it was broken. her mom finished washing the dishes. she got down on her knees in front of the couch and took her daughter's face in her hands. she tucked her hair behind her ears. "so," she said. "what do you think of santa?" "i think he's great, mom. he's really great." 211224 what's it to you? who go blather from