July 5, 2003

The Cover-Up

published in the Fall 2003 edition of The First Line

“So, all of it was just a lie?”

The elf looked about nervously. How could he have forgotten about the girl! He wanted desperately to run, but the corner into which he had been forced offered not even a vent through which to crawl. His only hope was in yet more treachery.

“Well, not a lie, exactly. Just – a cover-up. ”

Heather was distraught. To think, all of those letters written to no one! All those silly greetings cards, those stuffed dolls, those pictures at the mall – all a sham! This was wretched news.

“What do you mean, a ‘cover-up’?” Her grip on the chimney poker tightened; the padded bottoms of her pajamas pressed firmly into the ground where she stood. This elf, if that’s what we really was, would not get past her. Not until she had some answers.

“Well, no one would really trust a pack of elves to come into their house, so we invented the fat guy as a cover-up. And look, here we are, with only you the wiser!”

He adjusted his belt back and forth, a nervous habit he’d developed during the stress of Christmas ’44 and had been unable to shake ever since. It had been improving in recent years, but now the whole game was at stake. What to do!?

“Now, if you’ll just let me by, I’ve still got miles to –”

“Oh, no you don’t! Not gonna get off the hook that easily. You’ve gone and messed up a great bit of my Christmas, and I expect some payback.”

To this, the elf gulped quite loudly as his belt shifted back and forth. He could feel the sweat on his fingers dampening his gloves.

“I’m thinking . . .” The girl scrunched her mouth to the side and squinted an eye. She looked the little man up and down: doesn’t look he’s good for much. “I’ve got it! A pony.”

“O, you’ve got to be kidding. I don’t have a pony in here!” The elf shook his bag at her.

“Well then, a crown. I want a crown! And a ballerina dress. And a pony!”

The elf groaned and took a look in his bag.

“You know, you’re taking presents from another little girl. And don’t think this won’t hurt your chances of getting on the ‘A’ List next year!”

The girl shook her poker at him, and he backed up into the corner. He attempted a quick smile before sticking his face into his bag. Without taking it out, he asked, “How about a book?”

“A book!?!,” she cried. “I can’t read, I’m still in primer!”

The elf looked up.

“That’s preposterous, a person your size and not able to read! Look at me, I come to your knee and even after a hard day at the shop I put in a good twenty pages!”

“Where’s my crown?,” Heather growled.

“Right, right, I’m looking.” He put his face back into the bag. He shifted it about a bit, made a grumbling noise and then reached in. Ah-ha! Miraculously, from the depths of his tiny green bag, he pulled a wonderful tiara. He lifted it, allowing its many tips to sparkle in the blinking lights of the nearby tree.

“There you are, my queen.”

“WOW!” She let the poker down. “How’d you do that?”

“Right, I already let the Santa thing slip, I can’t go and share the secrets of elf-magic with you! Now, you have your crown, let me –”

“AND my ballerina dress!”

The elf huffed. “Little one, I am a tinkerer, not a tailor. I cannot sew. And I now have fewer presents than I do houses to visit – how do you like that? Someone gets cut from the list because you think you’re special.”

“But I want another one!” She grabbed the crown from him and placed it on her head. It was a little big, but she’d grow into it.

“Well, I do have a little something I might be able to part with.”

“Give it! Give it!” She stamped on the floor.

“Shhhh!,” whispered the elf. “You absolutely can’t wake your parents! If I am seen by someone that doesn’t believe, I’ll turn into a doll!”

“Really?”

The elf attempted to appear quite sincere. “O, yes, most definitely. See, the last gift that I have to give is a secret, not a thing. It is most precious, and is treasured by the elves more than anything in my bag. Do you want to know what it is?”

“O, yes! Yes!”

“Will you let me go?” He was especially emphatic on the last word. O, how he’d hear about this when he got back up top!

“Ya, ya – what’s the secret!” Heather’s crown had begun to slip over her left eye. She held it on with her left hand.

“It is about the cover-up. And elves. And you’re precious Santa Claus.”

Heather’s eyes widened. She was giddy with excitement and grinned like the sun shines. Had she not lost her front teeth in an unfortunate incident with the coffee table, her buckteeth would be sticking out past her nose.

“You see, we elves came to realize that we were fighting a losing battle. Like all fairy tales, we depend on people believing in us in order for us to exist. If people stopped believing in us altogether, we’d disappear. So we had to find a way to get people to want to believe in us without actually being seen by any of those who don’t believe in us.”

“We pretty much lost the adult market after the Industrial Revolution – but the kids didn’t start to go until all the homes got wired. It’s late at night, you hear a bump, you turn on a light – oops, it’s just the cat, not an elf. Back in the day, an elf could make a pretty decent living off of fear alone. Now, we have to bribe kids to believe. All on the sly, of course. The Santa front gets us in the door, but the gifts keep the kids loyal.”

Heather was confused. “So, you mean, we don’t get gifts because we’ve been good?”

The elf had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. After regaining his composure, he continued: “If by ‘good’ you mean ‘deserving,’ then I cite this very robbery taking place in front of you as my answer.”

The girl was very disconcerted.

“Well, what if I stop believing?”

“O, that will be a very sad day indeed. I might disappear on that day.” He tried to look very sad at this thought.

“Hmph. Well, I don’t know if I’ll believe or not. I’ll think about it.”

“Well, your crown would disappear if you stopped.”

She grabbed for the crown, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was still there. “O, well then, I guess I’ll just always have to believe in you!”

“See, that’s why we have to keep up the gifts. It’s a very hard life, but it beats having no one believe in you.”

“I guess so,” said the girl. She put the poker back against the chimney. “OK, you can go now.”

“I thank you,” said the elf. He picked up his bag and scurried over to the chimney. Placing his bag on the (thankfully unlit) gas log, he turned around and offered a slight bow. “Merry Christmas, Heather.”

“Merry Christmas.”

The little man strapped his bag over his shoulder and quickly climbed up the bricks of the chimney. Up top, the other elves breathed a sigh of relief when they finally saw the point of his hat.

“Where have you been?”

“Did you go and eat all of the cookies yourself?”

“Do you know how late we are?!?”

Down the chimney, Heather placed her crown on the coffee table and sat on the couch. As the elves hopped along the roofs towards another house, the little girl dreamed of fields in which she would one day ride her pony. Soon, the heavy blinking of her tired eyes covered up even the blinking lights of the Christmas tree.