[This story mentions suicide. If you're struggling, please seek professional assistance from your local suicide prevention service. This is also set near the end of the pandemic, if that's at all triggering. Additionally, this contains inter-species lesbian sex. Other than that, completely normal!]
Jessica Winters slammed the door of her dingy apartment so hard, the picture of a covered bridge in the snow rattled on the water stained wall. She slipped the chain on and walked through the sitting area to the kitchen bar, setting her treasure on it.
She slipped off her coat and let the snow pile on the already creaky wooden floor. The coat ended up there, too. She wasted little time in grabbing a juice glass from the drainer and pouring it full from the bottle of cheap whiskey she'd just bought with most of her last cash.
She took her glass and the bottle and sat down at a small writing desk. The envelopes and papers she cleared to the floor with one whisk of her arm. Bills from the power company, late notices from the hospital, her severance letter from the station, the manila envelope containing her temporary divorce orders; all on the floor.
Jessica opened the top drawer and took out a sheet of writing paper, an envelope, and an old black ink pen. She took a swig of the whiskey and surveyed her apartment, all she had left. An old fake Christmas tree stood in the corner, three decorations were on it. The stupid Elf on the Ledge her aunt gave her sat on the mantle above the gas heater. The rest of the furniture was second-hand / garage sale chic. In other words, trash.
She opened the lower desk draw and stared at the handgun her mother gave her just before she moved to the city for her new job. It seemed like a lifetime ago. But it would all be over soon. She refilled her glass and wrote: "November 15, 2020...Dear Santa..."
*****
"Here's the new batch," Tannivh said as he dumped a full sack next to Symylythianity's desk. The thud resounded in the nearly empty room. The Customer Relations department was on half-day shifts until the Covid crisis calmed down. As it was, her shift was reduced in staff due to the quarantining of 20 of her co-workers who thought it would be fun to play a real version of Chutes and Ladders in the Warehouse with the packing crew. Now both are working short-staffed and the pressure from The Big Guy was tremendous.
"Thanks, Tann," she said as she leaned back in her chair and stretched her 4'3" frame. She adjusted her black rimmed glasses and ran her thin fingers through her long blonde hair before digging her hand into the sack. Bringing out a handful of letters, she piled them on the desk in front of her. "Can I help you with anything else?" she asked her elven visitor.
"Smitty? How do you do it? I mean," he scratched his left ear, the one that bent out instead of up, "how can you stand to read all of these letters? Aren't they just whimpy-whiney-needy...." his question trailed off.
"Tann, I love my work. For a lot of these kids, this is their only hope and I like to think that I can be a part of the work that makes them smile, if only for a day." She rooted through the new stack and found a letter. Holding it up, she continued, "Take this one, Jessica Winters." She stared at the envelope and made a mental note of the address change. "Jessica has been writing to us since she was four. She's twenty-eight now, and still writing." Smitty smiled. Jessica had become a friend, of sorts; a one-way pen pal. She was very curious to read her latest missive.
Tann placed his hands on her desk and leaned forward. "Wouldn't you like to take a break and, maybe, have little elven fun?"
Smitty scowled. "Six feet, please. And, no. Is that all you elves think about?" She didn't allow, or want, an answer. "Before you go, take these." She handed a stack of letters over the desk. "These are all adult toy requests. I'm sure you'll have some fun with the elveens down there."
Tann's face lit up. "Wow. Thanks, Smitty!" Tann turned and left so quickly that his glitter aura hung for a moment before falling to the floor. Smitty sighed and shook her head. It must be nice to be two hundred years old.
She checked the clock. All four hands indicated that her shift was nearly over. She placed Jessica's letter to one side and read through the rest of the stack of thirty-four. Five minutes later, she had them sorted and ready for their respective pick-ups. A bell softly chimed.
Smitty picked-up Jessica's letter and slipped it into a pocket inside her red jacket behind the label that read 'Symylythianity Thingol: CR'. It was in violation of company policy to take mail from the mail room, but this was Jessica, a friend, and she wanted, no, needed to read it, alone.
She stepped into the teleporter at the end of the room, pressed in a few numbers and was soon whisked off, appearing within seconds inside her own apartment. She slipped her jacket off, retrieved the letter, and hung the jacket over a nearby chair, the left side one of a pair that faced her fireplace. She placed the letter on the small table that sat between the chairs and snapped her fingers, causing the fireplace to erupt in a warm glow.
She smiled and walked to her small bedroom. A short shower washed the work away and she slipped into her nightclothes, a silky red teddy with reindeer slippers. Elves are nearly always barefoot. But Smitty loved her reindeer slippers. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a plate of cheese from the refrigerator along with a bottle of wine and a glass. All of this she took to the sitting area.
Soon, she was feeling relaxed, warm, and ready to hear from Jessica. She looked at the return address, unusual for a letter to Santa, but normal for Jessica. Her earliest letters were from an address in Nebraska. She looked it up once and found that she lived on a farm. Somewhere along the way, she moved to an address in Phoenix, Arizona. Those letters reflected Jessica's separation from her father, the pain, but also the growth that came along with it.
For four years in a row, the letters came from Tempe, as Jessica was in college at ASU. Those were full of hope and excitement. She told Santa about her dreams, her loves, eventually, the loves of her life, especially Brian.
Over the past six years, Jessica had found her dream job in broadcasting and gotten married to her college sweetheart. Smitty fingered the letter with a smile. She knew that she was living another life through Jessica, but wasn't an elf allowed some pleasantries? She slid her finger under the seal and pulled the letter out.
"Dear Santa," The letter began the same, but there was something different. Jessica always wrote her letters by hand. The hand that wrote this was shaky. The ink strokes were hard and blotted. Smitty continued reading, "I guess this will be my last letter to you. In all the years that I've written, you have never let me down. I know that I didn't get everything I asked for, but you always found a way to provide me with what I needed. You can't help me now."
Smitty felt a pang of fear in the words; fear and hopelessness. She leaned forward in her chair and read on. "Nine months ago, Brian and I found out that we were expecting. The joy I felt at that moment cannot compare with the agony I feel now. Within a week, Brian left me. A month after that, my Mom died in an accident. Three months later, I miscarried the baby. I couldn't work, so they laid me off. Just this week, I received my severance, they hired a 'fresh face' to replace mine. I have bills I can't pay.
"Santa, thank you for all that you have done. I wish you could help me, but I know that even your magic can't fix this, can't fix me. By the time you read this, I'll be dead. Maybe I'll see you around? Jessica"
Smitty stared at the letter and read it eighteen more times. She couldn't. She can't. Smitty darted up and over to a call box. Pressing a few buttons, a voice answered,
"Tannivh Myrin."
"Tann, it's Smitty. I need your help."
"So, you ARE ready for some reindeer games, huh?"
"Tann! No, this is serious, okay?"
"Wow, Smitty, yeah, sure. What can I do?"
Smitty ran a plan through her mind; a crazy, hazardous plan. "Your brother works in the Transportation Department, right?"
"Yeah. He made third shift manager last month."
"Great. I need you to get me transported to an address in the past." Smitty fingered the envelope in her hand.
"Smitty," the elven voice sounded suspicious, "what's this all about?"
"I can't tell you, Tann. If I do I'll get us both in trouble."
