The Christmas Promise(19)

“What do you use?” Donovan asked.

“Nothing. I don’t really do Christmas.”

“Why not?” Donovan said. “Don’t you believe in Santa Claus?” He was wide-eyed and bewildered at the thought of it.

“I believe in the spirit of Santa Claus,” Chaz said. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Maybe you could come over to my house and see if Santa leaves you something under my Christmas bush. He knows you’ll be there because he knows everything.”

Chaz hadn’t celebrated Christmas with anyone in years and couldn’t imagine what that would be like anymore. “I’ve got plans for that day, but thanks, though.”

Donovan ran to the video monitors and shoved the last of the cupcake into his mouth. “Take me to Santa’s toy shop.”

“No,” Chaz said. “You’re not supposed to be on the floor.”

“I won’t be on the floor,” Donovan said, prancing. “I’ll be in Santa’s toy shop.” He grabbed on to Chaz’s hand, pulling it. “Come on. Just show me.”

There wasn’t any point in talking Donovan out of it because he’d just run there when Chaz wasn’t looking. Larry, Carla, and Monique were busy cleaning other areas of the store and didn’t notice Donovan dashing through Children’s Clothing to get to the Toy Department. His eyes lit up when he saw the small red workshop with a marshmallow roof splattered with gumdrops, frosting shutters, and a chocolate-bar door. Lollipops sprang out of the garden around the building, gingerbread men clung to the sides, and the door handle was a giant candy cane. Donovan burst through the door and frowned when he saw an empty workshop put together with plywood and two-by-fours. “Where’s the toys?”

“Santa can’t make stuff here,” Chaz said. “Look how small this is. He just comes here to find out what kids want; then he sends those orders up to, you know, his elves.”

Donovan closed the door and sat on the floor, disappointed. “Did you come here today and tell Santa what you want?”

“No,” Chaz said.

“If I worked here I’d tell him that I want toys that are fun to play with,” Donovan said, kicking the door open and closed with his feet. “No dumb stuff! And for my mom to get some press-on nails that she’s been wanting. And I’d tell him I want a dad.”

Chaz wasn’t good at this sort of thing and looked at his watch. “Come on, let’s go. It’s late.”

Donovan pushed open the small white gate and followed him. “Do you want to play Superman or Spider-Man tonight?”

“Spider-Man, but only for a few minutes,” Chaz said. “You need to sleep.”

“But my eyes are still open,” Donovan said. “Look.” He craned his neck up for Chaz to see.

“Yeah, I know. But they should be closed. You’re just a little kid.”

“I’m tall inside.”

Chaz sighed. Why did he continue to argue with a five-year-old? They walked into the security office and Chaz pointed to a video monitor in horror. “The dreaded Snake Eye McQueen is stealing the Housewares Department blind. What’ll we do?”

Donovan jumped onto the desk and pretended to scale the wall. “I’ll save you.” He jumped off the desk and flailed about with an imaginary culprit before tying the thief up and leaving him in the middle of the room.

Chaz made him lie down on the couch and Donovan grabbed his hand. “Are you kind of like my dad?”

It felt like a sock to Chaz’s stomach. How could Donovan think of some guy who gave him a peanut butter sandwich as his dad? “No. I’m nothing like a dad,” Chaz said.

“You could be a dad,” Donovan said.

“No, I couldn’t.” Nothing in his life would qualify as father material.

“Can I always sleep here?”

Chaz stood at the side of the couch; he needed to shut this conversation down. “No,” he said. “Your mom has to find somebody to watch you at night because I won’t be staying here forever.”

Donovan sat up. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Chaz said. “Somewhere, though. I’m just trying to make enough money so I can get there.”

Donovan turned his back to him and pulled the blanket up to his neck. “My mom said men always leave.”

Chaz had no idea what to say, so he left him alone. He thought about a beer and glanced at his watch: four hours to go. Carla caught him closing the door. She was wearing pink scrubs for work. “Go in if you want,” Chaz said. “I just turned off the light.” She shook her head and turned to go. “Carla.” She stopped and he wondered what he would talk to her about. “Donovan’s a good kid.” She nodded. Chaz hadn’t noticed how small she was, maybe just a hair over five feet. Her face looked sallow and worn, the circles under her eyes actually darker than the eyes. Maybe if her black hair was down around her face it would soften her features, but every time he’d seen her it was held back in a tight ponytail. “He’s funny and seems really smart,” he said.