She wants me to be real.

“Merry Christmas, Riley,” Santa says. “Merry, merry Christmas.”

She pulls away, looks up at me, and says, with complete earnestness, “I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

“Sweet dreams,” Santa wishes her. Then I add another “Ho ho ho!” for good measure.

She returns to her room with the same careful footsteps as before. She wants to keep the secret from the rest of the house.

I watch her go, and wait until I hear the determined close of her door. Then I start to move the presents back under the tree. Within a minute, though, there’s another noise. It sounds like … clapping.

“Bravo, Santa,” a sarcastic voice says. “That must make you feel awesome, fooling little girls like that.”

Lana is in the doorway that leads to the kitchen. She’s got on a nightshirt and sweatpants, but doesn’t look like she’s slept yet tonight—she’s vampiric even on a full night’s sleep, so it’s hard to tell for sure.

“Hi, Lana,” I say quietly. I don’t want Riley to hear us.

“Hi, Santa.” She steps into the room and looks me over. I am not used to such scrutiny from a twelve-year-old. “I have no idea what sexual favors my brother promised you to do this, but really? You look like a dumbfuck asshat.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, too!” I chirp, and continue to put the presents back under the tree.

“What, no ‘ho ho ho’ for me? Is it because I’ve been a bad girl this year? It seems so entirely fair that an old white guy would get to judge that. Haven’t you at least brought me my lump of coal?”

“Shhh. She’ll hear you.”

“And that would be a bad thing why? I know Connor is a big fan of maintaining illusions, but I think that’s bullshit. I can’t believe he gave you that costume. He had no right to do that.”

I have not been dating Connor long enough to yell at his sister. I know this. Which is why I don’t answer her, don’t look at her. The presents are almost all under the tree by now. Then I can go.

“What … reindeer got your tongue?” Lana taunts. “Oh, I see how it is. Indulge Riley in whatever delusion you want. But you don’t have to pay attention to me. None of you do.”

“Lana, really. Keep your voice down, please.”

“Please! Santa, you’re so polite.” She’s coming closer now. “No wonder Connor likes you.”

Normally, it would make me really happy to hear that Connor likes me. But she says it like it’s an accusation.

“You know who always did this, right?” she goes on. “You know whose suit that is? You know that for years I was just as stupid as Riley, thinking that it was Santa, thinking that it would always be this way. But now I’m guessing Connor was the stupidest, if he thought he could just dress you up and make it like he wasn’t abandoned like the rest of us.”

I move the last present back into place.

“What? Aren’t you going to defend him? Aren’t you going to tell me that it makes sense? I’m dying to hear how you can justify being here. How you pretend this is normal when everything has completely fallen apart.”

I look at her in the eye for the first time. But the way she’s looking at me is so unfriendly that I have to look away.

“I’m here because he asked me to,” I say. “That’s all.”

“Awwww,” she says, as if I were a kitten video. “You’re in wuv.”

And this time I can’t stand it. This time I have to say something. So I look her in the eye again, and this time, unwavering, say, “Yes. I am. In love.”

For a second she is silent. For a second, I think this has placated her. For a second, I think she’ll understand. But her recovery is so smooth it doesn’t even seem like she’s recovering.

“I hate you,” she says.

Now I’m the one who’s stunned.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because you can’t have him. You can’t just start dating him and then have him. You can’t be this to him. You’re not important enough to be this.”

My natural inclination is to say I’m sorry. To apologize for being here. To apologize for tricking her sister into believing for one last year.

But I’m not really sorry, I find. So instead I say, “You’re so angry.”

“Duh! I think I have reason to be.”

“But not with me.”

As soon as I say it, I realize it’s the wrong thing to say. Because it’s not about me at all.

“It’s not because you’re gay,” Lana says. “You know that, right? I’d be just as pissed if you were a girl.”

It’s a strange concession to get.

“So what do you want for Christmas, little girl?” I resume in my Santa voice.

I figure she’ll give me shit for the little girl part. But instead she says, “I want it to not be you in that suit.”

I nod. I go back to my own voice. “I get that. But you’ve got to tell me something Santa can actually give you.”

“It’s not like you brought any presents.”

“I brought one.”

“For Riley? Oh, for Connor.”

“I hope you understand why I didn’t bring one for you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re always so goddamn fucking mean to me.”

She laughs out in surprise, then says, “Fair enough.”

We stand in silence for a moment. Then we both hear it.

A door opening. We stay silent.

Small footsteps.

“Shit,” Lana whispers.

Riley reappears, and only seems a little bothered to see that Lana’s with me.

“Are you getting him cookies?” the younger sister asks of the older. “I was going to sleep, but I remembered I didn’t give him any cookies.”

And the older sister, without missing a beat, replies, “I’ll go get them.”

She leaves for the kitchen. Riley, unable to help herself, stares at the presents under the tree. I remember doing the same thing with the presents around the menorah—trying to calculate which ones were for me, and what could be inside. My mother would often wrap things in boxes larger than they needed, just to throw me off.

“Where do you go next?” Riley asks me.

“Nebraska,” I reply.

She nods.

Lana comes out of the kitchen with some Pepperidge Farm cookies thrown on a plate and a glass of milk.