More of a flash story as deadlines and commitments persist thus limiting my keyboard time.
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Marty Robbins: "Love can't be explained, can't be controlled. One day it's warm, next day it's cold."
= = = =
Growing up I was the youngest of three boys in my family. I take after my mom while my older brothers take after my dad. My father was abusive to my mother. Although I never saw him strike her, his berating and shouting often wiped the joy off of her face. My brothers figured if dad could belittle my mom, then then could make my life a living hell.
Why my mother is still with my father is beyond me. Since leaving for college, I've only spoken to my father and brothers when absolutely necessary. I'm determined to live my life without those who thrive on abusing others, be it mentally or physically.
Where the other males in my family find it beneath themselves to help others, I volunteer where needed. It's actually how I met the loves of my life. Volunteering cemented my desire to have my own children. I aim to prove that the cycle of abuse can be stopped. My children will always have a loving family.
In a very perverse way, I've completed one of life's strange circles. My name is Jeff Foster and I like to play Santa. What I don't like, is for people to know about it. I'll admit it's probably some kind of mental defect, but so what. I'm very self-conscious about my appearance and being known as a jolly old fat man just doesn't mesh. Although outwardly standoffish, I really do have a playful side.
Playing that fun but scary man did put me in a position to meet my wife. At an event where I was ho-ho-ho-ing, she was herding the children, as one of Santa's helpers. All I knew was her first name, but her personality chimed my bells. After the event, I made an effort to track her down. Without letting her know that I was the Santa, we were introduced. Cassie was reluctant to go on a date, but when her friend suggested a double date, I had my foot in the door.
Turning on the charm, and acting a little richer that I was at the time, our romance got off the starting blocks. After one more double date, we started single dating. Cassie was in no hurry to settle down, but I was patient. After six months, we decided to be exclusive. A year later, we wed. We've yet to start a family, but as we approach that magic age of thirty, the subject has come up a few times recently.
+ + + +
Being known as a humorless, straight and narrow kind of guy, I was never very high on people's party guest lists. The crickets and I watched many a company event from the sidelines. Cassie bounced around having fun, but I spent most of my time people watching.
We'd been married four years when Cassie began suggesting that I didn't need to attend her company parties. I ignored her and attended anyway. That was also when I started keeping better track of who she spent time with. I watched how they acted both when they were together, and when they were apart.
As the holiday season approached, I contacted the Santa supplier, who rattled off a list of available gigs. One that immediately caught my attention was on a Saturday at the Five Seasons hotel. The upscale hotels are my favorite. They tip really well. I eagerly accepted that assignment. My coordinator emailed me the details and my scope of duties. The only thing out of the ordinary, other than kids on laps and handing out presents, was to mingle with the guests. That never seems to work, but I'd do it. There was another gig, at a senior living center, three hours before the hotel gig so I took it as well.
It was after I locked those in that I realized the company paying for Santa's appearance at the hotel was none other than Cassie's company, Mauldin Enterprises. Funny, she hadn't mentioned anything about a party, and it was two weeks away. Not that it mattered, as I had already committed to being their Santa, but I got an uneasy feeling about it.
Our normal Saturday night schedule is dinner out and then a movie or play. I waited as long as I could. It was the Thursday night before her party.
"Cassie, let's do dinner and a movie tomorrow night. I'm going to be tied up with a project Saturday afternoon and evening."
"You'll miss my company's holiday party."
"First I've heard of it."
"I'm sure I've told you, probably on multiple occasions. I distinctly remember mentioning it last weekend. You don't listen to me. Not that you missing the party is a great loss. You have to admit that you aren't much of a party animal."
Lies, lies, and more lies. You're thinking Cassie said this with a look of disappointment? Not hardly. More like hard to contain her glee. She at least tried to act sad. Tried, but I underscored that mental note to watch her closely.
+ + + +
They don't normally go around introducing Santa to the attendees. This gig was no different. I'd met almost all of the management team at prior events. Although I may be quiet and shy, I have an excellent memory where faces and names are concerned. Only a few of the attendees gave me a second look. In the back of their minds, something about me was familiar. Eyes have a way of making an impression subconsciously. Thankfully, no one blew my cover.
The owner, John Mauldin, was glad handing all of his employees and their families. Between lap bouncers, some scared shitless, some crying, and some laying out thousands of dollars of gifts they were due, I caught sight of John with Cassie. Although I couldn't hear their conversation, Cassie's body language indicated she was acting as if she had tried everything in her power to get me to attend. John's probably heard it dozens of times, as his body language was anything but cordial.
It was when John turned away from Cassie that I caught sight of her making eyes with one of the salesmen. Pat Stillman was probably ten years our senior with a wife and a few children. At least that's what I remember about him at the summer BBQ. Perhaps Mrs. Stillman was playing Santa somewhere tonight? I'm going to go with Pat's divorced or he figured out a way to get rid of the missus for the evening. Cassie raising her eyebrows and smiling at him bothered me.
Every forty minutes earned me a ten minute break. After using the restroom, I hid in the shadows. This hotel brings out a dark mesh screen for Santa to hide behind. You can see through it, kind of.
On the dance floor, Cassie and Pat were grinding to a slow one. Her head floated softly down to his shoulder. My stomach tightened when I saw Cassie palm Pat's hand and guide it to her side boob. I know that move as I've enjoyed it on more than a few occasions. Quickly finding my phone, I reached around the screen and took several pictures.
I sent the best 'failing the spouse test' photo to Cassie.
'Look at the photo someone sent me. The next photo better show you slapping the shit out of this guy. Isn't that Pat Stillman?'
Cassie must not have felt my message buzz, or perhaps her phone was at her seat.
On a lark, I called the hotel and asked to be connected to Cassie Foster. No such person registered. How about Pat Stillman. They transferred me. Nobody answered, but the smarmy asshole had a room. So, I decided to send the picture to John Mauldin.
'Do you encourage your married employees to cheat at these parties? A party I wasn't invited to I might add. Odd that Pat has a room booked at this hotel, isn't it? Jeff Foster.'
Back at the table of honor, I saw John glance at his phone. He then started watching the same couple I was watching. Turning towards the official photographer, he wiggled his fingers. John and the photographer chatted for a few seconds. The photographer nodded and then resumed mingling, and also taking pictures of Cassie and Pat.
When the second slow dance was over, after a quick peck on the lips, Cassie and Pat went their separate ways. Not a big surprise that, after heading in different directions, they ended up sitting next to each other. I'd noticed name cards on each table, so it was assigned seating. How convenient.
It was time for me to go sit in my Santa throne. I've always wondered why the mothers of these kids flirt with Santa. What's up with that? Do they think I have an 'in' with the big guy? Don't get me wrong as I really don't mind when a woman goes out of her way to make sure I notice her cleavage. I always smile and wink back at them.
As the anxious children spilled their guts, I caught sight of Cassie looking at her phone. Her reaction was comical. She pushed away from Pat and scanned the room to see if she could spot who could have taken that picture. Pat tried to put his arm around her but she slapped it away, talking sternly to him. He repeated Cassie's room scan. Between kids, I look a quick picture of the pair, with one looking left, and the other looking right.
At my next break I'd send it to Cassie. 'Twas a good thing my phone was on vibrate. Cassie fled to the hallway, alone, with phone in hand. As my phone vibrated, I saw Cassie pacing back and forth occasionally taking her phone away from her ear and looking at it, as if somehow that would convince me to answer her call. Of course, I let it go to messages.
When the food lines opened, my thirty minute dinner break started.
I took the opportunity to send Cassie that 'busted' photo.
'That looks more like a 'We've been caught picture'. Don't bother coming home.'
A few seconds later, Cassie glanced at her phone and looked very distraught. With thumbs flying, she sent her reply.
'It's not what you think. This is a complete misunderstanding.'
At least I've disrupted her planned night of bliss. Problem is, I doubt that I was lucky enough to catch her affair before it began. If Pat is separated or divorced, I wonder if Cassie is the reason why?
It was time to mingle with the guests. I felt more like a clown than Santa. Turns out people don't know how to have an adult conversation with Santa. Pat was nervously scanning the crowd, looking for the snitch. Cassie was keeping her distance from everyone and then headed towards the restrooms.
Like a trapped squirrel, Pat wasn't sure where to turn when Mauldin marched towards him. After a brief conversation, Pat's shoulders slumped and he headed for the exit. That was about the time that Cassie re-entered the party area. She was all smiles as Mauldin caught her attention. You should have seen that smile flee the scene. The absolute look of fear and panic on Cassie's face warmed my heart. Wiping away a tear, Cassie gathered her stuff and left the party.
That strange circle was now complete. While playing Santa I'd become smitten with Cassie, and now I've become disgusted with her.
+ + + +
After my post-dinner sitting with the children, I took another break. Cassie had left several voice and text messages.
I responded with 'My snitch tells me you and Pat were sent home. Did you stop off at his hotel room again? Perhaps you got a little action before the party, and a little after the party?'
'Jeff it's not what you think. I didn't do any of that. I wasn't feeling well so I left. I went straight home and that's where I am now. Alone! When will you be home?'
'Seems like I told you to not come home. Guess I'll get a room for the evening. You disgust me.'
'Jeff, don't say that. Come home. Let me explain things so that you understand.'
'Nothing to understand. You wear an outfit I've never seen before and are pressing his hand into your boob. Bet you two had sloppy plans for the evening. No wonder you didn't want me to attend. Where were his wife and kids?'
'They're getting a divorce.'
'So you're a homewrecker too? What a slut.'
Cassie called, but I couldn't answer. Santa's break was over. One last session and then I packed up. Normally I spend my tips buying nice gifts for Cassie. If she gets anything from me this year, it won't even be as nice as a lump of coal.
Now dressed as myself, I tracked John Mauldin down.
"Hi John, Jeff Foster" as I extended my hand.
"Jeff, I sent Cassie home. No, we don't encourage that kind of behavior. She and Pat have meetings with HR first thing on Monday. Not that it matters, but how did you get that photo?"
"You're right. It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're addressing the issue. If we never meet again, just know that I appreciate you taking a stand. Hope the holidays are kind to you."
John slapped me on the back as I turned to leave. It has to take a toll being a father like figure to a bunch of miscreants.
Turning my phone off, I found a cheap motel by the interstate. Emotionally, more than physically, I was exhausted. After a long hot shower, the reality of my situation finally hit me. I won't say I cried myself to sleep, but I might not deny it either.
