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At sixteen, Maria still worked hard not to be on the naughty list. She would share her favorite cookie, take the blame for things she didn't do, help everyone she sees, and to top the list, she'd always let people get away with hurting her. When things like that happen, and I try to help, she'd run away saying I was going to be on the naughty list, and that annoyed the hell out of me.
"Maria, are you serious right now? These girls keep messing with you, and you won't retaliate. Today, they'll pull your hair, tomorrow they'll take your snacks, and it's not as if you can't beat them up, but you don't want your Santa Claus to add you to the naughty list. That doesn't even make sense."
"Santa Claus is real. I've heard him so many times in the living room on Christmas Eves. You used to love Santa, but you've changed, and I'm sure that's the reason you no longer get too many gifts from him." She said to me in response.
"I stopped getting too many gifts because I decided to grow up. It was my dad all along, so now I just let him get me the things he can get instead of boring him with too many candy wishes. I don't know what you heard in your living room, but that was definitely not Santa Claus." I tried to convince her, but she wouldn't budge.
"Blah! blah! blah! if Santa doesn't exist, why do we see him in movies and why do people spend time decorating Christmas trees?" She asked me.
"The movie is for entertainment, which you should've known already. And decorating Christmas trees is what families do because it's fun. Christmas is fun because it comes with a lot. There's holiday, there's the snow and the cold, and the movies. That doesn't mean that some power in the north pole did all of that." I was tired of trying to convince her as I realized that nothing I said would make her get back at those girls who were bullying her, so I let it be.
It was three days to Christmas eve when Maria's dad called my dad on phone. He said he had traveled, and the chances that he'd be home to drop gifts for Maria was very slim. Since he was a long time friend of my dad, he asked if my dad could play the Santa role, and drop gifts by the Christmas tree for Maria. When my dad told me, I bursted into laughter, and he asked why I laughed.
"Maria believes that it's truly Santa Claus that has been sending her those gifts, when all along, it was her dad. Very funny." I replied and laughed harder.
"You once believed too." He said.
"Well, I was a kid back then, but now we're grownups, and she was supposed to have snapped out of it. Anyway, I'm coming with you." I said.
On the eve of Christmas, I and my dad went to Maria's home when we were sure that she was asleep. Maria always slept early so Santa wouldn't worry to be seen by her, or so she said. We took the spare key from where her father said it'd be, and we went inside. I saw the cookie she kept on the table for Santa, and there was something else. I picked it up, and saw the letter she had written to Santa about me, begging him not to add me to the naughty list because I stopped believing in him. Seeing that, I laughed hard, and my dad tried to hush me, but Maria recognized that laughter, and she came running downstairs.
"Jane, what are you doing eating the cookie I left for Santa? Why are you here with your dad?" She asked me.
"Your dad asked me to deliver these gifts to you as he wouldn't be home early to drop them. I was supposed to do that quietly, but you know your friend." My dad explained to her.
Maria seemed lost for words. She checked the gifts, and saw that it matched with her wishlist, then she looked up and me, and caught me trying hard not to laugh.
"Are you telling me that my dad has been Santa all these while?" She asked me. Before we could respond, she whirled and ran up the stairs, crying.
My dad turned to me. "This is your fault. Won't you go and check on her?"
"Don't worry, Dad, she will be fine." I replied and sat back reading the letter over again. She came downstairs, took the letter from me, and tossed it into the fireplace, then she ran back to her room.
I felt bad seeing her that way, and I knew that her Christmas had been ruined, but all the same, I still knew that I had done the right thing. Maybe there's a force at the North pole that sends gifts to kids, and maybe Santa Claus and his elves and reindeers do exist, but I didn't want my soon to be adult friend to keep being as nutty as a fruitcake, living in her imaginations, and letting people hurt her all because she wants to avoid being on some naughty list that Santa Claus keeps.