Love Thy Neighbor
Jessica and I walked into the kitchen. “Dinner’s not ready yet,” said Karen. “You’ll have to wait half an hour.” I was surprised. “So why did you tell me to come down?” “I wanted you to go to James’s house and tell them to come over for dinner. His wife Nancy is expecting it.” “Karen, you know I don't like James.” “Keith, you promised you’d patch things up with him. They’re our neighbors. I spend a lot of time cooking for you, so can you at least do me a favor and tell James and Nancy to come over for dinner with us?” I walked out the front door with Jessica. While outside in the driveway I looked at my car, hoping the metallic paint wasn’t scratched in any way. I always had a paranoid feeling that someone in the neighborhood wanted to scratch my metallic paint. As I walked on the pavement with Jessica following me, I glanced at my house and compared it to James’s house. My house was bigger and had more modern architecture, with a fountain on a clean lawn in the front. James’s house was smaller than mine. It was a brick and wood house with plants growing on the wall. His lawn was not clean like mine because it was covered with leaves from a giant tree. James had no garage. James worked as a research scientist at Bio21. He also worked casually as a department store Santa Claus at Myer. His wife Nancy worked as a secretary. Because they both worked, their household income was fairly high. On the other hand, I worked as a statistician and even though I earned more than either James or Nancy, our household income was lower because my wife Karen didn’t work. I knocked on the front door and it opened a few seconds after. James stood in front of me. He saw Jessica beside me. James was an old man in his fifties. I was thirty. I peeked inside the house and saw ---- James and Nancy came over to our house. Both
Jessica and Timmy were in the backyard swimming in the pool. “What’s it like working as Santa?” I asked. “Yeah, it’s not bad. I don’t do it for the money. I really like to see the smile on the kids’ faces when they see Santa, you know?” “I see. My daughter Jessica is eleven now and I'm thinking of telling her the truth about Santa. I feel uncomfortable about lying.” “Why?” James looked at me with a horrified expression on his face. “Don’t you believe in Santa?” I paused, slightly shocked at what he said. Then I laughed. “How old are you, James? Don't tell me you still believe in Santa Claus?” James corrected himself. “I mean…of course Santa isn’t real, but don’t you celebrate it?” "Why should I celebrate something that's fake?" I asked. "Why should I lie? Shouldn’t I just tell the truth?” “Santa is actually real." James sipped on his coffee. "There was someone named Saint Nick…” “Yeah, but does the real Saint Nick have a toy factory in the North Pole, and after he makes all the toys does he fly around the world to deliver all the presents in a few days in a vehicle powered by flying reindeers?” James laughed, almost spilling his coffee. "Of course not, but you don't describe it like that. Santa may not work for you but it's good for the kids. It’s great for their imagination." "What do you mean?" "Don’t take away their childhood. Let them believe in something." James looked at me with more seriousness. "It’s part of tradition, and it’s part of our culture.” I paused. "What is the point of tradition?" "What have you got against tradition?" "Just because something has been done in the past it doesn't mean you should continue to do it. People used to ride horses to work, yet I never see you riding a horse. You drive to work." James smiled and looked up at the ceiling briefly. “I’ll tell you what, Keith. This Christmas how about I dress up as Santa Claus for your kids." "Why can't I dress up as Santa Claus?" "Because eleven-year-old girls typically know that their parents are Santa. Every time they see Santa their dads are mysteriously gone. You have to mix it up a little to confuse them." “I think it’s better to tell Jessica the truth instead of lying.” “Keith, why do you have to be such a Scrooge?” ---- Everyone--James, his wife Nancy, Jessica, Tim, Karen, and I--sat around the circular dinner table and ate. James sat opposite me. He sat right next to Jessica. James spoke to my daughter. “Have you told Santa what you want for Christmas yet?” Jessica shook her head slowly, about one shake per second for three seconds. James faced both Karen and me. “Keith, have you guys taken your kids to see Santa at Myer?” I spoke. “No, I haven’t.” “We forgot,” said Karen, smiling at James. “It’s okay,” said James. He started speaking slowly to Jessica. “After dinner, Jessica, you can write a letter to Santa and give it to me. I’ll give it to Santa for you.” Jessica spoke. “You know Santa?” “Of course!” James smiled. “Me and Santa know each other well.” ---- After dinner, James, his wife, and my wife were in the kitchen, leaving me in the living room with Tim and Jessica. Both the children were kneeling near the fireplace. Since it was a cold night, the children kept themselves warm by sitting near the fire. Worried that my children could burn themselves, I stood up, walked to the fireplace, and sat next to Jessica. With all the food I ate, I suddenly realized there was a large volume of saliva in my mouth. I didn't want to swallow this saliva because I feared it would taste bad. As more saliva filled my mouth, my cheeks started to bulge out and Jessica looked at me curiously. Unable to hold it in, I released the saliva out from my mouth, aiming it at the fire. The liquid ball of spit landed on the log. With fire all around it, the spit on the log started to boil and sizzle. Both Jessica and Tim watched curiously. Before a minute had passed, my spit had completely evaporated. “Why did you do that?” asked Jessica. “I had to spit,” I said. Before I could speak again, Tim spat into the fire himself. The same thing happened: the spit started to bubble and boil before evaporating. I spoke. “Don't do that, Tim.” “But you did it,” said Jessica. “I shouldn't have,” I said. “If you must spit, it's better to do it on a plant.” ---- It was “Keith, you should probably sleep now. We have to go to church tomorrow.” “Do we have to?” “Keith, please don’t be difficult. Of course we have to go to church. It’s almost Christmas.” I shut down the laptop and stood up. “Alright, I’m going. Make sure you don’t drink too much alcohol tonight.” I walked upstairs and went to the toilet to urinate. To my horror I found pebbles of feces in the toilet, so I flushed the toilet. I noticed the light on in Jessica’s bedroom, so I walked in and found my girl sitting on her bed reading a book. The bedside lamp was turned on. I sat on her bed. “Jessica, did you forget to flush the toilet again?” “Oh, I’m sorry.” I put an arm behind Jessica and gently pulled her close to me. “It’s okay, just remember to do it next time. At least you’re honest.” “Daddy…can I ask you something?” “Go ahead.” “How does Santa fly?” I hesitated. “He has reindeers.” “How does a reindeer fly? Does it have wings?” “Uh…yes.” “But Daddy…” Jessica showed me what she was reading, an Encyclopaedia Britannica article on reindeers. “A reindeer doesn’t have wings,” my daughter said, pointing to the picture on the page. I rested my left hand on Jessica’s head and leaned towards her face to kiss her on the forehead. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ll tell you everything later.” ---- I was going to go to sleep but decided to have a shower. Because of the drought farmers were facing nowadays, the State Government had water restrictions, which meant nobody was allowed to water the garden or clean his or her car with a hose. But I still kept having long showers. A nice, long, warm shower was an addiction I could not break. After the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. I always looked cleaner and nicer after a shower. I crawled into bed after putting on my pajamas. My wife Karen was sitting in bed reading the Holy Bible. “Karen, can I talk to you about something?” She put down the Bible. “What is it?” “Don’t you think it’s better to tell Jessica and Tim the truth about Santa Claus?” “Keith, my parents told me about Santa Claus and I don’t hate them. It’ll be fine.” “So you think it’s okay to lie?” I pointed to the Bible in her hands. “What does the Bible say about lying?” Karen spoke. “To learn that there is no Santa Clause…that is the most disappointing thing to a child. She will discover it on her own, but you don't have to ruin the spirit of Christmas.” “If Jessica knows we’re lying, she’ll have no reason to believe anything we tell her.” “She’s too young! She won’t find out. Don’t worry. It’s just a small lie. It won’t hurt anyone. If a child can’t believe in fantasy then can you imagine how horrible this world would be?” Karen started reading her Bible again. I lied in bed and tried to sleep. |