Here's a cute piece that I wrote for my Writing Survey class. It was a quick piece and it's a subtle glimpse into a torn holiday. Enjoy.

-Wateryes

All I want for Christmas

The snow flakes were falling outside. It was dark, but they fell fast, like when I fell from the tree last summer, but even faster. The window was getting foggy as I breathed harder waiting. I decided to draw a smiley face even though momma would be mad, but I had been a good kid all year. I saw lights coming to the house, big bright ones lighting up the snow flakes.

"Momma, momma, he's here." I jumped off my bed and grabbed Mr. Tubbytills my teddy bear.

The snow storm was getting harder as I drove along the highway. I shouldn't have taken that extra shift, but I wanted to buy my little boy that race car he wanted. He had been begging me, clinging onto my leg every morning asking if Santa was going to bring him his car. My wife only scoffed at him telling him he needed to grow up. Every morning, I would pick him up and whisper into his ear that his momma was just bitter because Santa told me she was getting a lump of cole this year. He laughed, but I knew why she was bitter. It was the same reason I was. It was over and we both knew it.

I pulled up into the blanketed driveway, my car stalling just a little. The hum of the engine shaking the entire thing. I grabbed my tattered coat, the elbows nearly showing, the threads of the buttons now loose ready to give out any day. The once black coat, now a dull smokey grey, was the last gift that woman ever gave me. She said that I needed to look presentable, that a man should look like a man and not a bum that peddles on the street. I walked towards the house. Dreading to see what state this woman would be in.

I had just gotten to the door when it was swung open, banging against the wall.

"Daddy, daddy you're home. You're home." My son jump into my arms.

My back cracked under his weight. He was getting bigger, but he was always going to be my little boy. I would fight for him.

"Yes, yes Jacob. I'm home and you should be in bed. Santa comes next week and you don't want to get in trouble before he comes now do you."

I could feel him shake his head, "No daddy, no I'll be good."

I kissed his head and set him down. "Now you go back up onto bed and in the morning I maybe I'll let you watch some cartoons."

He ran up the stairs, running into his momma who was staggering down. Her hair in disarray.

"Watch where you go boy." Her eyes were unfocused, her lipstick smeared on her chin.

"Are you drinking Martha?"

"Oh I been drinking Howard. Where were you?"

I put my coat and hat on the rack. I was used to this Every night for the past few months she would be drunk when I walked in.

"I was at work like I told you."

"Work, ha. Do you think I'm an idiot. You were sleeping around. If you work so much where is that money?"

"It'll come—"

"Oh it'll always come. You fucking liar. My mother was right." She got close to my face. I could smell the vodka and tequila on her breath. Her once fragrant perfume was masked by the ever present smell of alcohol.

"Martha, don't start again."

She walked away into the kitchen. I followed along. I didn't want her yelling in the house and waking up Jacob. He didn't need to see us fighting, not so close to Christmas.

"Don't start what Howard? You can't take the truth."

"I work hard for you. I make good money."

"Good money? Oh please Howard. You're an assistant. You make nothing. Mother told me to marry rich. Told me you would be a disappointment."

"Martha please. It's the holiday season. Must you fight?"

She grabbed a bottle of scotch and took a swig from it. "Yes, yes I must fight. I'm sick of this life. I'm sick of you not giving me what I want. What I deserve."

"I work—"

"No, no you don't. I'm tired of the excuses. The economy is down. People don't have jobs. I deserve a good life and you won't give it to me."

Her voice was getting louder. I was afraid that she would wake up Jacob. I walked over to her hoping that she would settle. Her eyes grew a little and her mouth trembled. She kept shouting and complaining. I knew it was going to end, but for the sake of my son, I wanted him to have one last happy Christmas that he could remember.

"Get away from me Howard," I felt a sting on my cheek where she had made contact, "Get out of my house. Until you can give me the life I want, I want you out."

She threw the bottle of scotch at me, but it barely missed as I retreated from the kitchen.

"Get out! Get out!"

I grabbed my coat and walked outside. This was not going well at all. I wanted to work things out with her. Sure, I couldn't feel the love I had in her in me, but I still cared about her. She was the mother of my son and as long as that was true, I would do anything to keep him happy.

I woke up in the morning, Mr. Tubbytills lying on the floor. I grabbed him and ran downstairs. Daddy said I was gonna get to watch cartoons. He promised and he never broke his promise, never ever. I slid on the tile floor in my toy story pj's and bumped into momma who was sitting at the table drinking from her special juice. I tried to touch it once, but she hit me and said that that was for her and daddy.

"Watch where you're going."

"I'm sorry momma. Where's daddy?"

"Your father left us last night. He said that you were being a naughty boy and he couldn't be here anymore." She picked up her cup and drank from it. She hiccuped and rubbed her hand over her mouth.

"I'm naughty?"

"Yes, now get away from me."

I grabbed onto Mr. Tubbytills and ran up to my room. I closed the door and jumped onto my bed. I cried and held onto my teddy bear harder. Daddy said I was a good boy. He said that I wasn't supposed to be naughty.

It'd been almost a week since she had kicked me out of the house. It was Christmas Eve and she wouldn't even let me back in. No, she said she was done. She had moved on and was going to find herself someone else. I real man who could take care of her. I tried my hardest to compromise with her, but she wouldn't budge.

The snow was now falling harder. I had reached the house, but I could barely make out the windows. My feet forced their way through the layers of snow. Each step becoming more difficult then the one before. I gripped onto the wrapped up race car to help myself balance and I made my way to the door. I turned the key and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't give. I pushed a little harder and finally with one more push of my shoulder the door burst open.

I fumbled a little and the present landed on the ground. I quickly picked it up and dusted myself off. I took off the tattered coat revealing my red outfit. I had dressed up as Santa Claus just in case Jacob walked in on me putting the present under the tree. I hoped that this would make him happy until I was able to come back for him. It was all that I could afford now that I had to pay for a motel room. This would have to do.

I made my way to the living room where I found the tree still bare. I was going to decorate that night, but it never got done. As I got closer to the dying tree, I saw a little shivering ball holding onto a teddy bear.

I kneeled down in front of it and I could feel my son's breath on my hand. "Jacob, what are you doing down here?"

I stirred a little and rubbed his eyes before looking at me. "Santa, is that you?"

I stepped back a little forgetting that I had dressed up as the man himself.

"Why yes it is. You're supposed to be in bed son."

"No Santa, I had to wait for you."

"Jacob, good little boys are supposed to be tucked into their beds so I can leave them their presents." I held up the wrapped car so that he could see.

"That's what I wanted to tell you."

"What's the problem Jacob?" I placed the car down and picked him up bringing him with me to the couch and setting him down.

"I know I asked you for the car—"

"Yes, and you've been a good boy this year."

"But, now, all I want for Christmas is my daddy to come back home."

I could feel a tear fall down my cheek into the white fluff on my face. I grabbed Jacob and held him tight around me.

"Don't worry Jacob, you've been a good boy. You'll get what you want for Christmas. Santa promises."