Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him.
“There were tears, Mr. Mills. Phone calls.”
Adam sighed.
“Yeah, I get it. My kid made your life harder by being a kid. But Gus isn’t who your problem is with. It’s with the parents who are bothering you. It is up to all of them what they tell their kids and when. But it’s not up to Gus—an eight-year-old—to manage that for them. Part of living in the world is that people are different and believe different things. It’s not bad for those kids to learn that lesson, even if their parents apparently haven’t.”
“Mr. Mills,” she began, placatingly. “If August could just tell the other children that she was joking—”
Sometimes Adam forgot, because he was an adult now, and in charge of his life, but he was back in Garnet Run. Back in the town that he’d spent eighteen years of his life in. Back in the town where his classmates had tormented him for being different, for being sensitive, for having the gall to want a life beyond its borders. He knew this place, even if it had been over a decade since he’d left. And there was no way he was having his child go through what he had.
“I’m sorry, but no. I grew up in Garnet Run. I know what it’s like. But you are a public school. Those kids’ parents can teach them whatever they want at home, but so can I. I’m sorry that you’re having to deal with these parents, but I imagine if it wasn’t about Gus, they’d be calling you about something else. I am absolutely not going to ask my daughter to lie. Period. I don’t see this conversation bringing about any more useful solutions, so I’m going to end it.”
Adam hung up the phone, wishing his cell phone was a landline so he could’ve slammed it for emphasis.
“Small-minded piece of shit conservative fu—”
Adam cut himself off when he saw Gus standing wide-eyed in the doorway. Her face was blotchy and tear streaked.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked timidly, and crept into the living room.
“No way,” Adam said fiercely. “But we did talk about how it’s unkind to tell other kids that Santa isn’t real if they’re still enjoying the magic of him. I know we say no lying. But make believe isn’t the same as lying. And sometimes we choose to believe things because they bring us joy or comfort.”
Gus hung her head.
“The truth is important. But kindness is important too. And taking away someone’s joy or comfort isn’t kind.”
“I know.”
“Why’d you do it, then?”
Gus sulked her way to the couch.
“Tommy VanderHaag said Santa was bringing him a new mom for Christmas cuz his dad’s getting married. I told him that wasn’t Santa, that was a wedding. And he said...” She scowled. “He said, what did I know cuz I didn’t even have a mom.”
Adam’s heart broke for her, but Gus went on.
“So I said, of course I have a mom, I just live with my dad and what did he know because Santa didn’t even exist. It just slipped out! And then a lot of other kids came over and they started saying Santa was real and I got mad, so I told them the evidence.”
Adam surreptitiously rubbed at his temples where the headache had spread.
Just then, a text came from Wes: You guys okay over there?
Adam’s eyes went wide.
How’d you know something was up?
What’s wrong?! Do you need help??
Then Wes added, It’s the first day Gus hasn’t turned the lights on the second she got home from school.
Tears stung Adam’s eyes. Wes paid attention. Wes cared.
It’s okay. Gus just had a hard day, Adam wrote. She got in trouble at school and it’s UNJUST.
Wes sent a quizzical face emoji. I’m here if you need me.
Adam sent a heart and wrote, I’ll tell you everything in a bit.
“Is that Wes?”
“Yeah.”
“Wes would agree with me.”
“That Santa isn’t real? I’m sure he would.” Gus looked triumphant. “The thing is, sweetie... Here, come in the kitchen while I make dinner.”
Adam rubbed his head harder, trying to think of how to say this.
“There’s science-y real and then there’s the other kind of real. A story can be real, even a fantasy story, because it lets you understand things that strictly real reality doesn’t.”
“Like what?” Gus asked, of course, because Adam didn’t have an answer.
“Um, like...like what happens after we die. No one really knows. But stories that explore different possibilities can be useful and comforting, even if they’re just things to think about.”
Adam rummaged through the cabinets trying to find where Wes had filed the rice, because it wasn’t under R. He found it under B, for basmati.
“The point is that sometimes there are things that aren’t true, but truth isn’t the point of them. And Santa Claus is one of those things. It’s like a...a collective story that we participate in because it can be fun and magical. Like, what makes Christmas so great? The feeling, right? It feels cozy and exciting and special because it’s about family and love. When we give someone a gift, it shows we’re thinking about them and what they would like. When we share a special meal or a ritual, it’s creating something that’s just for our family or friends. Something that brings us closer together. That feels good.” Gus nodded reluctantly. “Sometimes,” Adam said, tipping her chin up and kissing her forehead, “feeling cozy and loved and together is more important than scientific truth.”