This is the next to last installment of the story.

Enjoy!

“I want to know who Maggie Cornando is, not some hot aired response.  Give me the grit,”  Santa bit into his burger. 

“I’m um, well, how the hell do you know my name?” 

“I know everyone’s name.”

“But how do you know my name?  I don’t even do Christmas.”

“It was given to me.”  I attempt to eat a chip and feel as though I’m going to choke on the dry saltiness of it.  I chug down some beer. “I can’t explain how.  It’s too complicated.  Tell me what your deal is.  Why did you follow me here?  Were you hoping for some handout?”

“No, I was actually wondering where you go.  You come here every year.  This year I had no strings, so I followed you.”  Crazy lady was staring at us with a burger outstretched in an awkward gesture to point out the freak show transpiring at our table.  I bite my burger again, chew twenty three times, and then gulp some beer.  “It’s not like I have anywhere I have to be.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Santa murmers, spitting out bits of hamburger bun as he motions with his free hand for me to carry on.  Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been kidnapped by a shrink.

“What’s it to you anyway? I lost my job, I lost my home, I lost my family.  It’s a bad economy you know.”

“I was just curious.  I’ve never met anyone so angry before.”

“You haven’t met anyone whom has been crapped on by the giant monster known as life.”

“Cynical.  That’s a popular trait.”

“Yeah well…”

“Let me guess, it’s a bad economy.”  He’s mocking me.  The fat man wearing thick snow boots in the middle of summer is mocking me.  I feel everyone laughing.  I slam down my burger and stand up.

“I’m leaving.”

“But you haven’t eaten your food.”

“Big deal.”

“It’ll be a while before you eat like this again.  You should park yourself and eat.  No more questions, I promise.”  I stand, frozen in place, as though I were in the midst of some terrible science fiction film, with the whole of The Billy Goat Tavern staring at me.  Yes, even the chefs’ eyes were on me.  I put my weight on one foot and then the other, pacing back and forth in place.  The food did call to me.  I could always take it with me and eat it later. 

Something inside me calls me to sit down.  I feel my knees buckle under me and my behind slams against the wooden bench.  Santa smirks.  You think I’m joking?  Why would I?  I’ve admitted that I’m sitting and having lunch with some guy who doesn’t even exist who thinks that he knows me.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

TBC