With Love, from Cold World(98)
Lauren nodded, but she still seemed troubled. He couldn’t tell if she was scared that everything would change, or that nothing would.
“Look,” he said, sliding the computer off his lap so he could face her on the bed more fully. “Our presentation is in great shape. We have concept art, you’ve written up really clear descriptions and plans for the educational exhibit and activities, the cost of materials and labor to put it in action won’t be prohibitive . . . Honestly, I don’t see how Dolores doesn’t go for it. But even if she doesn’t, it won’t be the end of the world. Or the end of Cold World.”
He’d said that last bit as a joke, to lighten the mood, but the very idea of Cold World ending made him anxious. Their plan had to work. And even if it didn’t—even if, by some miracle, Daniel came up with something even better—Asa was determined that they’d figure something out. Cold World was an institution. It wasn’t going anywhere.
Especially now that it had brought him Lauren.
They were silent for a few moments, until Lauren nudged his foot with hers. “There was this animated movie I saw as a kid . . . maybe from the eighties? Or even older, possibly. The shelter where my mom and I were staying had taped it straight off the TV, and it still had the commercials in it and everything. My favorite was this old Rice Krispies one, remember when Snap, Crackle, and Pop were like actual characters?”
Asa smiled, even though he had no idea. He couldn’t remember having ever seen a commercial for that cereal before. But he liked the way her face lit up as she talked about it.
“Anyway.” She shook her head, giving a little laugh. “The movie was about this clockmaker and his family, and then a family of mice who lived in the house, too. It’s silly, but as a kid I liked the way the humans and the mice coexisted like that, so casual. Like when they have a problem they need to solve together, the dad mouse just pops up on the clockmaker’s book at bedtime, dressed in a full coat and scarf while he tells the clockmaker about how his son wrecked his apology clock to Santa.”
Asa frowned. “Wait, you lost me. Apology clock?”
“The mouse son is a real skeptic. Apparently he wrote a letter to the local newspaper, saying that Santa was a myth, and signing it ‘from all of us.’ So Santa boycotts the town, and all the kids are pretty down about it, until the clockmaker has the idea to build this giant clock that will play a special song for Santa at the stroke of midnight. But then the skeptic mouse son breaks it trying to figure out how it works, and . . .” She wrinkled her nose self-consciously. “It sounds so ridiculous when I describe it out loud.”
“Try narrating the plot of The Santa Clause. These movies don’t have to make sense, they just have to feature a lot of snow and the spirit of the season. Let me guess—they fix the clock and save the day?”
Lauren beamed as though she had something personally to do with it, like she’d reached into the clock’s mechanisms and adjusted them herself. “Even a miracle needs a hand,” she said, and then sang the line with a roll of her eyes. “That’s a song in the movie.”
“Hmm.” Asa was surprised he’d never seen this movie before. Not only because he loved Christmas movies and considered himself something of a connoisseur, but because the messaging sounded right up his parents’ alley. If they had known about this movie when he was a kid, one hundred percent it would’ve been shown on repeat as the perfect blend of holiday magic and an allegory for a punitive higher power. He didn’t want to harsh on Lauren’s childhood, but he had to know if he was understanding this movie correctly.
“So, let me get this straight,” he said. “Santa was so mad that this town called him fake—an allegation that cannot be new to him—that he just stops bringing presents? And then only starts back up when they grovel with a clock?”
The line between Lauren’s eyebrows deepened. “I may not be remembering everything exactly right, but yeah, basically.”
Asa made a yikes face that had Lauren laughing, but she sobered as she seemed to think more about what he’d said. “If you think about it, though, there’s an inherent flaw in the Santa logic. Because he’s not supposed to discriminate, right? He only cares if you’re naughty or nice, which is within your control. And yet when you show up to school after winter break, somehow Santa brought the rich kids new electronics while you were left with a used pair of shoes or something.”
There was a thread starting to come loose around the edge of Asa’s bedspread, and Lauren picked at it, unraveling it a few more inches before seeming to realize what she was doing. She smoothed the thread down against the teal cloth, as though that could weave it back in. “Not that I wasn’t grateful for the shoes,” she said. “But this was why it was better not to believe in the first place. It was easier to accept that my mom just couldn’t afford something than to wonder why I wasn’t worthy of it.”
Asa rolled over until he was covering Lauren’s body with his own, his arms braced on either side of her head so he didn’t crush her with his full weight. He had so much he wanted to say, but the minute his eyes locked with hers he realized that his throat was suddenly tight, and it was difficult to push any words out. So instead he kissed the corner of her mouth, threaded his fingers in the silky strands of her hair that were now splayed on the pillow. “You’re worthy,” he said, but his voice was hoarse. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him until she pulled him down for a deeper kiss and tasted the salt on her lips.