I very much doubted her story when we first met. But as it turned out, she was right.
Despite my initial protestations, we’ve grown close during our time at the North Pole. And after finding out the hard way that Kristal’s answers to my questions often leave me more confused than when I first asked, I’ve learned to turn to Marian first when the elves start doing something odd.
But this time, she looks at me like I’m the crazy one for asking. “What are they counting down to? Why Christmas of course! Santa just finished dropping off all his presents.”
“What?” I nearly drop the eggnog Kristal handed me to toast Santa’s leaving. “But we just sent him off a few minutes ago.”
Marian winks. “Time works a little differently in the North Pole. Santa has actually been delivering gifts all night. And now it’s time for us to return to the third dimension.”
I narrow my eyes, still finding it hard to believe that—
But then, as if to prove Marian’s point, the elves push open the workshops' huge barn house doors and spill out onto the San Francisco pier I haven’t seen since the sixth of January. In the distance, I spy a crowd of former elves. Krista and Hugh are in the very front, waving wildly.
“Hayato?” Kristal tugs on my arm from behind.
I turn to face her, expecting her to rush me toward the door so that she can greet her friends and family. She’s been eager to get started with our real life in the real world—and of course, she’s dying to read the last twelve months of People magazine.
But I freeze when I see her for the first time since she began counting down, seemingly out of nowhere.
She’s now sporting a huge pregnant belly.
“Congratulations! You’re having a baby on New Year’s Eve!!” Marian screeches beside me, jumping up and down like a little girl despite her advanced age. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to keep that a secret.”
I shake my head, dizzy with shock. But how? I distinctly remember Kristal telling me we did not have to use protection because the workshop was magicked with birth control.
Kristal slaps a hand over her eyes. “We didn’t use a condom in the real world that one time. Remember New Year’s Eve?”
I shake my head again, not because I don’t remember that night. But because, “That was over a year ago.”
“Like I said, time works differently than the North Pole,” Marian informs me with another sly wink. “You see, you’re not the first elf to get pregnant during Bacchanoel. And the rule is all pregnancies are put on hold until the next twelve days of Christmas. Then, whatever day the baby was conceived is the day it will be born. Do you want to know the gender?”
I don’t answer. I can’t answer. My heart is a drum inside my chest.
“We’re going to have a baby?” I asked Kristal. “We’re really going to have a baby in one week?”
Kristal winces, her eyes soft and apologetic. “Yeah, I guess your twelve months of Kristal included nine months of baby. Are you…upset? We never talked about this step when we were making plans for returning to the third dimension. And now it’s way, way too late to do anything about it.”
I realized my answer at the same time that I say it. “No, I’m not upset. You’ve made me the happiest man on earth. In this dimension and in whatever the North Pole is.”
Kristal’s wary expression melts, and she opens her mouth to answer.
But then Marian cries, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy! Sorry, I just couldn’t hold it any longer.”
Kristal and I look at her. Then we look at each other. Then we burst out laughing. Together.
Funny, I used to be so serious. But over the last twelve months, I’ve gotten used to laughing all the time.
“Just remember,” Marian warns as we laugh. “Pregnancy doesn’t erase your gift from Santa. It only changes it.”
“So did Marian tell who Santa will be naming us as replacement?” Hugh asks me that night at the party after Krista and Kristal go off with someone named Kristopher to harangue the DJ into playing some early Tina Turner. Kristal’s been obsessed with her “California Rock” years ever since I mentioned she put out a few hits during her and Jae-Hyun’s favorite era of music too.
Hugh is holding his one-year-old daughter Moira in his arms. It’s hard to reconcile how big she is now, given she was a newborn when I saw her last. She has long brown curly hair, a cute button nose, and slightly elfin features that remind me of Krista. But without the nonstop energy. In fact, the little girl appears close to falling asleep.
Hugh isn’t the first person to ask me whether Marian has told me the name of Santa’s replacement. Ever since Santa made the surprise announcement at the beginning of the party that he had decided to retire and would name his replacement at the end of the twelve days of Christmas, a string of elves have been trying to get the dirt. But Hugh is the first human to inquire.
I tell him the same thing I told all the elves. “She doesn’t know. And it’s driving her a bit crazy. Apparently, no ghosts have shown up to give her any spoilers. But she’s hoping now that she’s back in the third dimension, she’ll find out before the twelve days of Christmas are up.”
He sways with Moira on his hip, lulling her deeper into sleep. But his expression looks rather consternated. “The word amongst the elves is that it could be anybody. You, me—anybody!”
That is true. I’ve spent enough time with Marian in the library to know that the Santa selection process is top-secret. There’s not even a record of his appointment in the Book of Elves. And the Santa before this one was apparently chosen before the advent of written language. No one knows if any of the Santas were originally elves or spirits or even something from outside this third-dimensional world.
Santa is usually very indulgent with Marian, up to agreeing to retire rather than start the elf orphan adoption program again. But he refuses to tell her his origin story until what he calls “the right time.”
But I tell Hugh, “I doubt it will be me. If that were the case, Santa probably would’ve used the last twelve months to train me. And if it was you, your future ghost probably would’ve come back to let Marian know. I’m thinking it’s someone neither of us knows.”
Hugh nods thoughtfully. “A wildcard. That would be dramatic indeed.”
I nod in agreement. If there’s one thing I’ve learned after twelve months at the North Pole, reading through all the stories of how Santa has interfered in elves' lives in one way or another, it’s that, “Santa likes drama.”
Hugh lets out a wry chuckle. “That, he does. He and Marian really are a perfect match.”
We sip on our drinks while looking around the party. This year it’s only elves and just a smattering of humans.
“Let me tell you, you chose the right year to take a sabbatical,” Hugh says as we take in the much smaller Christmas party. “Not to sound too much like an American, but 2020 truly was the worst.”
I have no doubt about that. Elves are incredibly social creatures, so being stuck inside for much of the year under quarantine couldn’t have sat well with any of them.
“Krista and I haven’t had a dinner party since March,” Hugh tells me. “It’s fine for elves. They can’t get sick. But most of the Kringles we know are in relationships with humans, so it wouldn’t have been safe. Also, two of our dearest friends, Edith and Abe, are getting on in years. And we haven’t been able to see them since the first wave.”