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“I don’t want you! I want grandma! Why isn’t grandma here?”
Lucy sighed inwardly while she tried to put on a smile for Amy, who was currently using every muscle fibre in her 7-year-old body to scream as loudly as she could in the middle of the crowded mall. Telling her daughter: ‘Well, grandma kind of lost her shit when I announced I didn’t want to take over the family slaughterhouse and also didn’t want to marry little Nicky Keynes from next door so now we had to flee to Texas,’ probably wasn’t advised in any existing parenting books, so instead she counted to ten.
“I hate you!”
To twenty.
“Hey little one, why so many tears?” Well, hello. A tall man had gotten down onto his haunches, flanked by a preteen, and was speaking to Amy. “Aren’t you excited to go see Santa?”
“You talk funny.” Kill her. Just have mercy, and kill her. Blushing, Lucy hissed: “Amy!” Tall and handsome just chuckled and got up from his crouched position.
“She’s right,” the preteen added. “Your accent is really weird, tata.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lucy muttered, staring at her feet.
“Don’t worry about it,” the man replied. An outstretched hand appeared in her field of vision. Shaking it, she finally dared look up into eyes that felt like they saw every corner of her soul. “I’m Flynn, and this ray of sunshine is Iris.”
“Lucy,” she mumbled back.
“First time here?” he asked, motioning to the spectacle surrounding them.
“How’d you know?” she replied.
“Because you look about as lost as a nun on a honeymoon!” Both adults turned at the exclamation, a subtle twang seasoning the words. “Both of y’all, actually,” the new stranger added. “And so David and I decided we needed to show you the way! Can’t have you missing Santa now, can we?” he asked, motioning his head towards the kindergartener sitting on his shoulders, small hands grasping his tousled hair. The boy giggled with glee as the man lowered him to the ground so he could properly introduce himself to Lucy and Flynn. “I’m Wyatt Logan. Welcome to San Antonio.” He grinned at them, and good Lord almighty, if that didn’t make a girl go weak-kneed she didn’t know what did. In fact, Lucy realised as she glanced to her left, Flynn seemed just as dumbstruck to be greeted by the smiling local. Great. Of course she fell for the gay ones; just her luck.
In the meantime, the three kids had huddled together, comparing jacket colours and favourite animals. Suddenly they turned towards the adults and Amy announced: “We’re a club.”
“Oh, are you now?” Flynn replied. “What kind of club?”
“The dead mothers club,” Iris stated without a sliver of sarcasm to her voice. The what? All three adults stared sheepishly at one another.
“Yeah, cause all our mommies went to Heaven!” David added. Flynn looked as white as a sheet while Wyatt looked like he was searching for the emergency exit. Lucy presumed she looked like a mix of the two.
“I…” she began, but she wasn’t even sure where she was going, so she snapped her mouth shut again.
“That's…” Wyatt added, helplessly. Before anyone could say anything else, Iris squealed: “Our turn!” She ushered both Amy and David towards the tired-looking Santa Claus.
“I suppose that makes us the…dead wives club?” Flynn offered.
“Sister,” Lucy corrected. “Amy’s technically my niece. She’s named after her.” Both men nodded in understanding. Turning towards the exhibit, they watched as Iris lifted David onto Santa’s lap and held Amy’s hand, who had suddenly decided that the big guy was a little scarier than she’d originally anticipated.
“So tell me, have you been good?” the Santa asked. David nodded enthusiastically, as did Amy from behind Iris’ legs. The preteen mumbled: “I gave it my best shot,” and Lucy couldn’t help but giggle. Flanked by the two men, she was finally starting to feel at ease in the new city, she realised.
“That’s all that matters,” Santa replied with a wink. “And what would you like for Christmas this year?”
“A mommy like Lucy!” David announced happily.
“Me too,” Iris concurred. Amy looked conflicted for a moment before deciding: “Daddies like Flynn and Wyatt.” Santa raised an eyebrow.
“You can’t have two daddies!” Iris told her.
“Why not? Jason in my class has two!”
Looking at the two men who had both turned as red as ripened tomatoes, Lucy winked and asked: “How about we start with some hot chocolate, and discuss polyamory later?” Walking over to the kids and one very confused Santa, she guided them over to the hot drinks stand nearby. The men took one quick look at each other before scrambling after her. Santa Claus took a deep breath.
“I’m getting too old for this.“