Just Ask Santa

I'll Be Home For Christmas

December 22, 1986, Los Angeles, California

Jacqueline Hyde looked around her. A bright blue sky kissed by the warm and huge and soft yellow sun surrounded her. The buildings, so tall they seemed to penetrate the sky, glowed in the sunlight, and windows shone as brilliantly as the most perfect diamonds. The tanned and toned people who walked the gorgeously architected streets were equally as gorgeous. California was everything she'd dreamed it would be.

She was miserable. Three days before Christmas, and it felt like summer. There was no snow, no possibility of snow. The stores all played holiday music, and at night, Christmas lights colored the streets, but it wasn't the same. Bing Crosby sang of a white Christmas that was a foreign and not necessarily welcome concept here. The lights on the buildings and houses, rather than sparkling in the snow on the ground, deadened on the bare cement and grass. The men dressed up as Santa Claus had cheeks reddened from heat rather than cold, and if one looked carefully, one could see beads of sweat on their skin.

Christmas didn't feel anything like Christmas here, especially since she was separated from her husband and son. The worst part of it was that it was by her own choice.

"Jackie. Will you please stop staring and get my bags?"

Jackie turned to see her boss, television personality Christine St. George, glaring daggers at her and gesturing to the two suitcases next to her. A year ago, she'd taken a job as Christine's personal assistant, hoping to revive her own career in television. Unfortunately, she'd been treated more like a slave than an assistant, tempted with promises of her own show, of everything in the world, only to constantly be put in her place by the temperamental diva. The past few months, as Christine began work on her move to LA for a nationally broadcast show, Jackie had been back and forth to California almost a dozen times.

It had caused problems between her and her husband Steven. Her son Keefer cried every time she left. If she continued on with Christine, her marriage was definitely going to be in trouble, and her family would be in danger of falling apart.

Yet, she wanted to stay with Christine. She was making headway. A station exec told her that Christine had recommended her as a replacement for her time slot. The problem was that Christine could change her mind in half a second, and would with any slight, even the tiniest. Jackie knew that if she quit now, her hopes for her own show would be dashed. She'd told Steven that, but lately, he hadn't been very understanding.

Jackie picked up the bags and tried to smile. "Sorry. I was distracted."

The older woman frowned. "Well, get undistracted, Jackie. I'd like to get to the hotel before dark." With a huff, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and strode towards the limo.

Jackie smiled weakly at the driver, who took the bags from her, and followed her boss. She'd call Steven once they got to the hotel, though whether he'd talk to or not was up in the air. He hadn't exactly given her an affectionate goodbye, hardly kissing her on the cheek. She got in the limo, and was happy to see that Christine was engrossed in a magazine. She stared out the window, her heart aching, her eyes filling.

"I'll be home for Christmas."

Jackie turned and looked at Christine, who'd begun to sing softly.

"You can plan on me."

She looked away, her face twisting and the tears releasing from her eyes. She wouldn't be home for Christmas. She wouldn't be there to see Keefer's eyes light up when he saw his presents beneath the tree, or to share a special night with Steven in front of that lit and beautifully decorated tree after their son fell asleep. Keefer was so upset about it, and Steven probably hated her. All because of Christine St. George and her tyrannical demands.

Jackie shook her head and wiped her cheeks. Damn Donna for convincing her to go back to work. What good would a job be if the price was her marriage?

"Oh there's no place like home for the holidays."

Jackie buried her head in her hands, and as she cried, did her best to tune her inconsiderate, insensitive, bitch of a boss out.

Santa Claus Is Coming to Town

That evening, Point Place, Wisconsin

As it was every year, the Forman living room was festively decorated; the tree, resplendent in bright colored ornaments and lights in the corner, the stairway decked out with bows and tinsel, on nearly every flat plane, Christmas-themed accessories. A plate of Christmas cookies, surrounded by cups filled with varying levels of eggnog, sat on the coffee table. Softly in the background, songs of Christmas played, and Kitty Forman, as she flittered around the room fussing over her grandchildren and the children who might as well be her grandchildren, hummed along with them.

The happiness it all should bring was lost on Steven Hyde, and he sat grumpily in Red's chair, staring at the television until his son scampered in through the kitchen door. The five-year old Keefer, the mirror image of his daddy, though his 'fro was darker, gave his father a quick, toothy grin as he made his way to the couch. Hyde couldn't help but smile at his boy.

Keefer climbed up on the couch and scooted on his knees close to Donna Pinciotti-Forman, who sat with her newborn baby in her arms.

Donna smiled at the little boy who stared curiously at her daughter. "Katie's pretty, isn't she, Keefer?"

The little boy nodded, and hesitantly reached his small hand towards the baby, only to withdraw it.

Donna chuckled. "You can touch her. Here. Put your finger in her palm and see what happens." She laughed again when Keefer's eyes widened in surprise. "She's pretty strong. She might not let go of your finger for awhile."

Keefer looked at his father. "Daddy, was I ever this little?"

Hyde nodded. "Yep."

"Huh uh!"

The father snickered. "You were. And not so long ago." Hyde stared at his son. He was growing up so fast, just yesterday he'd been tiny and helpless, it seemed. Keefer, from the moment he was born, had absolutely captivated Hyde. And now, he couldn't imagine, couldn't remember life without the little boy who never failed to smile at him and hug him every chance he got. Nothing felt better than the little body pummeling his leg when he came home from work.

"Daddy and Grandma are gonna take me to see Santa tonight! Right, Daddy?"

Hyde nodded, but his heart felt heavy. Jackie should be here. They'd always taken Keefer to see Santa together, but this year, Christine St. George and Jackie's damn job were more important to her. Bitterness built in his throat, and he quickly took a gulp of the beer he held.

Kitty sat down on the couch next to Keefer and pulled him into her lap. "Oh, my, Keefer, you're getting to be such a big boy!" He giggled when she tweaked his nose, and she smiled at him. "What do you want for Christmas this year, Keefer?"

Keefer crawled off Kitty's lap and over to Donna, gazing at the baby again. "I want a baby sister." He looked up at Kitty, his blue eyes, his father's, wide and sad. "So Mommy will hafta stay home."

No one said anything for a moment, and Hyde closed his eyes. It was moments like this when he came close to hating the wife he loved so much. Jackie had worried so much about becoming a mother like her own. Now she was coming perilously close to doing just that.

And a baby sister. The doctors didn't know if Jackie would even be able to have another baby after Keefer's difficult birth. Hyde thought it was part of the reason Jackie had gone to work. Right now, he wasn't even sure that if she did get pregnant, she'd want to give up her job.

Kitty broke the silence with a surprisingly un-nervous laugh. "Well, have you been a good boy this year, Keefer?" She tickled the little boy's tummy.

He giggled and nodded with a huge smile. "I've been a VERY good boy, Grandma!"

"Then just ask Santa. Santa Claus is magical, Keefer, and he can do anything, especially for good little boys."

Hyde frowned, especially when his son turned a wide, excited smile his way. He caught Kitty's eye and shook his head slightly, but she only gave him a wink. Keefer scrambled back onto his grandmother's lap and squealed in delight, clapping his small hands together just like his mother still did when excited.

"You just have to remember something." Kitty's face lit up and she began to sing. "You better not shout, you better not cry. Better not pout I'm telling you why."

Keefer, his small voice high and very off-tune, joined Kitty.

"Santa Claus is comin' to town."

Hyde finished his beer and turned his head away so his son wouldn't see his face.

Santa wasn't going to be able to bring Keefer his mother for Christmas. He'd already tried. And already failed.

An hour later, Point Place Mall

"He's really talking Santa's ear off, isn't he?"

Hyde stood with Kitty, and he smiled faintly. "Yeah. He talks almost as much as Jackie does." He sighed and looked at the woman he now called mom. Fitting, since she'd always been more of a mom to him than his own. "Hey, Mom, I just…I kind of wish you wouldn't tell Keefer that Santa's gonna bring him Jackie." The ache in his chest intensified, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. "She's not coming home, and I don't want him to be upset when he doesn't find her under the tree." He looked back at his son, still yammering away. Good thing there wasn't a line of kids waiting at the moment. "It's bad enough already."

Kitty, her arm linked through her son's, smiled gently up at him. "Now, Steven. Have a little faith. I'm sure that Jackie is just as miserable without you in California as you are without her here."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not miserable, okay?" Lie. "I'm just worried about my son." He grimaced and glared at the ceiling, where the music came from. Stupid Karen Carpenter, singing Jackie's favorite Christmas song. Seemed like everywhere he went these days, all he heard was "Merry Christmas, Darling." And damn it, he'd even found himself singing it in the car the other day, thinking of Jackie.

Like a miserable sap.

"So you're saying you don't miss Jackie at all? Because I think you do-oo."

He ran his left hand through his hair, and as his arm was dropping the light hit his wedding ring, shining right into his eyes, reminding him of her and the past Christmases they'd shared, the joy she'd brought to him and to Keefer. He looked at it for a moment and shrugged, but didn't answer the question, at least not out loud.

"Maybe you should go sit on Santa's lap and ask him to bring Jackie home, Steven."

He snorted and shook his head.

Don't think I haven't already considered doing that, Mom.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Hyde leaned down and caught the running Keefer. He picked him up and did his best to smile. "Hey, little guy."

Keefer's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. Hyde saw himself in the little boy, but he also saw Jackie. He was so like her, so exuberant and animated.

"I aksed Santa to bring Mommy home and he said he would!"

Hyde glared over at the Santa Claus, now busy with another child. Shit! Now, not only was his son going to be devastated when his mother wasn't there on Christmas morning, but his faith in Santa Clause was going to be destroyed far too soon. He looked back at his boy, those mirror-image eyes wide, happy, hopeful. "Keefer, look, I don't know if…"

"Of course Santa's going to bring your mommy home, because we believe in him, right?" Kitty smiled and stroked Keefer's cheek, then turned a smile to Hyde. "You believe in Santa too, don't you, Steven?"

"Yeah, Daddy. You believe in Santa, right?"

It took all his strength, but Hyde forced a smile and a nod. No way was he going to ruin his boy's Christmas by telling him that Santa was a lie parents told their children. No way in hell. "Of course I do."

"Good, 'cause I aksed Santa to bring you a car that runs on water, like Mommy told me to. 'Cause Mommy says you always wanted one of those."

This time, Hyde's smile and chuckle were real. He leaned forward and kissed his son's cheek. "Thank you, little guy. Hey, you wanna go home and eat some more of Grandma's Christmas cookies?"

Keefer nodded excitedly and reached for his Grandma, who, with her little frame, was just barely able to carry the growing boy anymore, took him. As the trio left, Hyde glanced over his shoulder at Santa Claus.

God, I wish you were real. And god, I wish Jackie was here.

Merry Christmas, Darling

December 24, 1986, early morning, Los Angeles, CA

"Steven, I miss you so much." Jackie sat in her hotel room, alone on a king sized bed. She cradled the phone in her hand and with the other, wiped tears from her cheek. She'd talked to Keefer, and her precious baby boy had sounded happy until he'd asked her if she was coming home. And now Steven was being less than talkative, even for him. "I would do anything to be with you and Keefer."

"Then why don't you? Get on a plane and come be with us. Not that hard, is it?"

The coldness in his voice stung her to the core, and she shivered. "You know I can't."

"We took Keefer to see Santa last night, and he asked Santa to bring you home. Guess he's gonna be pretty damn disappointed when you're not under the tree. And what am I supposed to tell him, then, huh, Jackie? That Santa lied? That his mother would rather work than be with him?"

"Steven, that's not true and you know it!" Jackie nearly dropped the phone, her heart breaking left all of her limbs weak and almost useless. "Baby, please…"

"That's how it feels, Jackie." A pause. "Look, I gotta go. We're going sledding with the others and I need to get my son ready."

Her body trembled violently, and the thought of saying goodbye to her husband petrified her. "I love you, Steven." He said nothing, and her heart cracked even more. "Steven? Please tell me you love me, too. Please."

"Whatever. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up, and Jackie, moving in cold slow motion, set the phone down. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, trying to remind herself that Steven did love her. That the only reason he didn't say so was because he was angry, and his favorite way to punish her was to act like he didn't care.

She stood and walked to the bathroom to stare at herself in the mirror.

To her horror, instead of her own face, she saw her mother's face.

"No," she whispered. "No. I cannot be becoming her." Her stomach dropped to her feet.

"Mommy, I miss you. Will you please come home?"

The beep of a timer sounded, and she gasped. She looked down at the plastic stick she'd laid on the sink before calling her family, and slowly reached for it. She looked at it, and smiled, though her tears became even heavier in her eyes, on her cheeks.

"Merry Christmas, Steven."

She stood still, and out in her room, she heard Karen Carpenter singing.

"Merry Christmas, Darling. We're apart, that's true. But I can dream and in my dreams, I'm Christmasing with you."

She held the stick to her heart, her eyes closed, and she thought of her family at home. Dreams were only dreams until they came true. Dreams only tortured until they became reality.

Jackie opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She smiled at herself in the mirror.

There was only one thing to do.