Santa, I have a wish!

Chapter 3; Climbing into a fairy tale

Only five days until Christmas.

I’ve been thinking about buying a gift for Molly and writing a little card “from Santa,” then sneaking it into her room at night while she sleeps.

Today, the new bed is being delivered—I’m SO HAPPY!!

I didn’t have to sleep on the sofa. Actually… I threw it out after work.

Now I’m officially that neighbor with a driveway full of junk. You know the one: cars stacked like a puzzle, broken furniture in every corner, an old tractor that hasn’t moved since the ’80s.

Last night, I slept on the floor. Cold. Uncomfortable. But infinitely better than that sofa.

I started unpacking boxes yesterday. That’s when I found four blankets. I layered them like armor, and somehow managed a few hours of sleep. I didn’t even bring pillows or anything else from the old house.

Yes, I said I wanted to “start fresh.”

But right now, I just want a hotel-sized pillow. Big. Soft. Luxurious.

Karl told me I could go out and buy anything the house needs instead of coming to the store.

Honestly, I think he’s just tired of having me around. I kind of like that. I want him to tell me what to do so he doesn’t have to climb ladders or move heavy boxes himself.

Karl is the only one in this town who has really built and maintained this magical toy store. Everyone else either has another job or is too old to climb ladders and reach the attic.

Sometimes, his son and daughter help with the trickier spots—but now his daughter has Molly, and his son is an electrician with constant overtime.

Molly will probably inherit this store someday, but until then, Karl needs help keeping the magic alive.

And it really is magical.

The store feels like an old library, with shelves climbing all the way to the ceiling. A sliding ladder stretches across the walls like it came straight out of a fairy tale. You could get lost for hours, just climbing, discovering hidden treasures.

I’m still learning where everything goes. It’s organized by Karl’s own logic—which makes no sense to me. Unicorns next to Spider-Man? Why?

“It just makes sense that they stand together,” he said, shrugging.

I see zero sense in it. But he’s adorable, and I can’t stay annoyed for long.

Karl loves his family. His wife comes every day at noon with homemade lunch and coffee from the little shop across the street. You can see how happy it makes him.

~

The house… the house still needs so much.

Right now, I’m grateful the Range Rover is huge, because I have no idea how long this is going to take.

I tried making a list. My friend Lisa helped over FaceTime, walking me through what she keeps in her huge house. Problem is, Lisa is a shopaholic. Her list is vague, with things missing or random.

Here’s what I have so far:

Kitchen: frying pan, cooking pot, knives, cutting board, glasses, coffee maker, coffee cups, +++

Bathroom: towels, soap, toilet paper, +++

Living room: a sofa that doesn’t feel like t*****e, pillows, TV, dining table and chairs

Bedroom: BED!! Pillows, pillow covers, sleeping stuff, condom

CONDOM?!

Who even writes that on a housewarming list? I don’t even have a bed yet… and now I’m apparently supposed to keep a c****m handy?

Sometimes it’s easier not to ask for help. And seriously—what is +++ supposed to mean?! Half a list doesn’t help at all.

~

The store is so big and have a lot on sale

One of the old ladies recommended to drive to the next city and bye bigger furniture and stuff to the house

New message:

“Hey, I’m delivering the new bed.”

FUCK—NOW?! I’m still twenty minutes away.

Okay… okay…

“Hey, put it on the porch. I’ll handle it later.”

“Ok.”

WHAT AM I DOING NOW?!

I can’t carry a bed alone. It’s big. The biggest one I could find, with extra space underneath. On sale, sure—but also probably heavier than my entire body combined. 200 x 200.

I don’t even know if it’ll fit inside.

I have to get home fast, get it inside, and figure out a plan… somehow.

~

The drive back takes forever.

The clouds changed while I was in the store. Now it’s snowing. Big, fat flakes. Fast. Just like my luck.

The bed is standing outside. And it’s snowing.

My car is packed with groceries, pillows, plates, random stuff I grabbed in a panic. I can barely see out the windshield. Stress is making my heart pound.

I just picked a dinner table, don’t ask me if it’s pretty or not.. i didn’t look much, i bought one of the designer chairs to the living room. I even pushed a mirror into the back seat of the car.

I’m panicking about the bed. How do I move it? How do I build it?

Oh God. I might have to call Dad.

It’s just a small problem or a big one to be honest

The problem is that they don’t know I’m divorced, that I moved to a small town, that I work in a toy store, and that I’ll be alone for Christmas.

Mom, Dad, Gramps… they’re going to freak. And Gramps? He’s going to lose it at my ex.

Three Christmases ago, Gramps had to be physically moved to the other side of the dining table because he tried to kick Mike under the table.

Gramps hated him.

He tried hitting him with a stick, throwing a chair, tripping him on the stairs… even sneaking medicine into his food so Mike nearly s**t himself… well, let’s just say it was not pretty.

Gramps said that his doctor wanted him to use it.. he won’t do that but Mike tok the whole bottle.

Now imagine Gramps finding out Mike cheated AND broke everything my grandmother made by hand.

That boy is finished.

Gramps has one more job before he dies—

and that is to make Mike pay.

He heard one fight between us some years ago, Mike said some stupid things and gramps dident like him. Mike was scared to sit at the same table after that.

But back to the chopping