The window was open just enough to let in the cool night air.
She quickly gripped the white frame of the window pane, and pulled it shut, wincing at the cracking sound it made when it slammed into place. Setting the latch to lock, she took a deep breath.
The crisp wind should have come as a reprieve, but it didn’t. Nothing could have cooled the heat she felt building in her chest.
She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over her body, meeting her chin. It’s not as if she needed the warmth, her skin felt like it was on fire, but the action gave her comfort.
Her flesh still tingled where he’d touched her. She began to rub gentle circles in the hollow of her neck to soothe herself. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the scent of his earthy cologne, and the peppermint on his breath.
Going there had been a mistake. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t naive.
She should have known better.
The way he had meant to coerce her into revealing such private desires was almost predatory. The way he gazed into her eyes, the soulful baritone of his voice, how his hand had rested so delicately on her back…She shuddered.
She pulled the covers higher over her eyes, and winced. “God, how many people saw?” she wondered. Complete strangers had witnessed the encounter.
Her anger began to resurface as she remembered how her best friend had reacted; how could she, her best friend, just laughed so callously? The betrayal was a cruel awakening that she could honestly trust no one.
She felt humiliated. Exposed. Ripped apart.
She lifted her knees to her chest. Curling up, she pressed the palms of her hands firmly against her eyes, attempting to block her welling tears.
This was it. This was the moment to end all moments. She couldn’t imagine any way to resolve her humiliation. How could she live with this: day after day, night after night, minute by minute?
She felt consumed. Depraved. Hopeless.
She wanted to die.
She replayed the scene in her head, hopefully for the last time.
Earlier that day…
She’d made the same descent down the polished escalator of the Galleria with her best friend hundreds of times before. It was rare they went anywhere without each other. They had always been very close.
Above them, aged speakers played familiar dated music.
Her friend grabbed her arm, “Look!” she squealed, “He’s usually not here this early. Seeing him makes my heart melt. Don’t you just love him?”
She looked up, and zeroed in on the person who would ruin her. Rip her life apart, and leave her soul bleeding.
Dozens of people were lined up, carefully positioned in rows lined by red velvet ropes.
As if he needed anymore stroking to his ego…
“We have to go,” her best friend pleaded, “Please, it will be hilarious!”
“We’re too old,” she replied, resisting her eagerness.
“You owe me,” she retorted, “For that thing last week.”
She cringed, recalling the episode, and it’s near disastrous aftermath. If they had been caught it would have resulted in some serious time. She was right. She was beholden to her beloved friend. She took a deep breath, “Okay.”
They took their place in the line, which had grown even longer in just the past few moments. The popularity of the subject was second to none. And she couldn’t deny there was a part of her that was genuinely aroused by the idea of something so wickedly whimsical.
They waited with a somber stillness unusual for their typical deportment. They didn’t want to be caught exposing their excitement aloud, they were far above that.
Finally, they made their way to the front of the line. This was it.
She took a deep breath, and nervously took a step forward. She could already smell the freshly polished leather of his boots.
“Would you like to have a seat?” he beckoned, motioning to his lap.
She paused, her nerves tightening. She knew it seemed inappropriate, but it also felt so deliciously devious, and without pause, she lowered herself gently onto his knees.
“Have you been a good girl this year?”
“Oh my god,” she thought. The nerve to ask something like that? And in front of all these people, watching and listening?
She shifted on his lap, and her mouth went dry, as she felt his hand approach her back, resting just below her spine.
“Um, yes. I think so,” she managed to spit out.
He moved his head in closer, his mouth inches away from her ear. She could feel his hot breath as he spoke to her, “And what do you want for Christmas?”
She went rigid in his arms. She still couldn’t believe she was taking this risk. What if one of her friends from school saw her sitting on Santa’s lap? She’d be ruined forever!
Sweat had started to bead on her forehead. She stole a look at her amused friend, who was now covering her mouth, trying not to make a scene with her shrill giggles.
Suddenly, she began to feel a warmth between her legs, could she be sweating there? She’d never experienced that in her twelve years.
Then, without warning, she felt a rush of liquid escape from her loins. “Oh dear God, this can’t be happening,” she thought. “Not today. Not now.”
It was definitely the one thing she had been wishing would happen for months, but this moment was definitely not what she had imagined.
And it was definitely not how the cast of multi-cultural pre-pubescent actresses assured her it would be like.
“I…” she began to sputter, “My period!” she whispered anxiously.
“What’s that young lady?” His voice was like a megaphone, “Did you say ‘period?’” He gave a hearty chuckle, “I don’t have that kind of influence, I’m afraid.”
The air was sucked in like a vacuum. Everyone looked up. She could hear a few patrons in line starting to snicker, and laugh. Her friend’s eyes looked like saucers, never having been forced open so wide.
“No,” she replied, leaping off his lap, “I mean, I think I just got my period!”
She looked down and spreading along the white fur trim lining his red velvet coat, were the brightest splotches of red there ever were.
In the world.
In the world, EVER.
“What the…?” Santa’s voice no longer carried its soothing sanguine tones, and the northern accent of the actor in the oversized wing-back chair resurfaced. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
FLASH!
A spark of light from the oversized camera captured the moment, in all its glory. The photographer must not have been paying attention, because when he looked into the preview display, he saw what he’d been missing, and his expression was conspicuous.
“Well, that’s definitely a moment to remember,” he mumbled to himself, trying not to smirk.
She covered her eyes, “I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry.”
This was it, this was how she would die.
“It’s alright, kid,” the kind Santa replied, “I have a daughter around your age. Do you know what just happened?”
Her face turned as red as the menstrual blood staining his suit, “Yes, yes I do. It’s just…unexpected.”
His face lit up, “Oh! Is this your first one? Congratulations!”
She couldn’t breathe, was a mall Santa just loudly congratulating her on getting her first period in front of hundreds of people in the mall?
She began to hear voices all around her, whispers and snickers from among the crowd:
“What happened?”
“Did you see?”
“Oh my God, I think that girl just got her period all over that guys lap!”
“Poor thing.”
She was eviscerated.
Her legs felt like they were glued to the floor, she couldn’t seem to move.
Her friend grabbed her shoulders, “We should go,” she kindly whispered.
They had begun to back away, when Santa spoke softly, “Well, merry early Christmas, I guess” and gave her a sympathetic wave.
She began to move past the crowd, and she felt a pressure on her chest. She looked up and saw the photographer pushing a folded card on her. “Memories,” he said, his eyes blurry with tears of laughter.
She wrapped her fingers around the card, “Thank you,” she muttered shamefully.
Her friend looked over her shoulder, as she opened the card, revealing the perfectly timed photo of her leaping frantically off his soiled lap.
“Well,” her friend said, shrugging her shoulders, “At least it’s not as bad as your yearbook photo.”
Makrosmic 