Christmas is chaotic, but so much fun in this job. That day he came in for the interview I could feel there was something special about him. He had an easy warmth, an open-ness, an energy that I couldn’t quite place. If I had to describe what I sensed, it was like watching a log on an open fire, fizzing and spitting. 

It’s the first week of December and the excitement is building. The shop sparkles with tinsel and fairy lights, and it’s packed with noisy excited children and less excited adults, but my eyes are on him. I catch him looking my way a lot. The parents and kids adore him because under the creepy costume they can see his twinkling green eyes and his humanity.

He’s inappropriately honest when he's around the other staff, so God only knows what he's saying to the customers; but he never truly offends. His child-like qualities always shine through. A child asks ‘How do I know if I’m on the good list or the naughty list?’ and he says that Santa is often on both lists.

It sounds authentic, the kid laughs and goes home content. He is goodness in spades and equal quantities of mischief. He craves attention and approval. Maybe that’s why this job is perfect for him. 

He is in good shape but pleasingly ample, and we had the suit altered for him, so it flatters his frame nicely. His hair is coming through grey. Up close, it’s a more complex mix of whites and browns and reds, whilst his neatly trimmed beard and moustache are a darker mix of the same. 

There is usually a wry smile, sometimes a guffaw, very seldom a frown. 

He’s cuddly, yes that’s the word. He has a vulnerable innocence that makes everyone want to hug him. He is the kind of man-child who might annoy you, but you could never be angry with him. He’s an entertainer, all the way down to his Christmas socks. Why is he wearing those, for God’s sake? That’s not part of the outfit.

By the middle of the month we are friends. He makes me laugh. Sometimes his attention seeking is a bit embarrassing, but I love it too. He flatters me constantly, telling people how good my ass looks in this suit. 

I say, ‘You can’t say that. I’m your boss.’ 

He bows his head and whimpers, ‘Sorry Sir. I want you to always be my boss.’ 

I’m starting to adore him, and it makes me wonder about the nature of adoration. It’s a very Christmassy word, isn’t it? The three wise men kneeling in front of the manger. It’s more than a simple love, more than desire, it implies a sacred vulnerability. It transforms. I feel a change in myself.

It’s Christmas Eve and we are closing early. He asks if we can go for a drink and I say yes. He says he’s going to change out of his suit. I look at him and gently lift the fake beard off his face. ‘No Santa, I want you as you are.’ He says, ‘Yes, Boss’. 

He takes me to his favourite basement cocktail bar. It’s classy in here, all velvet and soft amber lighting, and I think this is something I see in him, comfort. Comfortable seating, comforting soft music, comforting smooth cocktails. We look at the cocktail menu, and I smile when he selects the ‘Comfort and Joy’. I have the same. It is a blend of whisky and cream, sprinkled with Nutmeg. 

We pour ourselves into a tight sofa where it’s impossible not to brush against each other. The waiter puts the drinks on little black napkins on the black glass tabletop, and we exchange stories about what brought us to this point. It’s midnight and I lean in to him. We are both breathing quicker and he meets me half way. Our lips touch. The lightest of touches. Barely touching at all. 

Allan MacWilliam