Mischief Under The Mistletoe

by Maren Smith

  He wrapped his arms around her suddenly, so she couldn’t evade him. The Frosties fell to the floor and a few flakes of corn tumbled onto the carpet. Chloe stiffened, as if unsure. Bradley held her tightly and gently rubbed her back.

  “Tell me about it, little one,” he said. As if she’d needed his permission, she crumpled against his chest and began sobbing her heart out. He knew she needed him to be strong for her, so he put his concerns aside and held her reassuringly until she got a handle on what she was feeling.

  “Daddy!” she cried, but that was all she could manage, so Bradley kissed her on the top of her head and stroked her back while he hugged her.

  “Daddy,” she said again. There were several more minutes of tears as she seemed to be drowning under a tide of emotions. Bradley gently rocked her back and forth while he held her to his chest.

  “It’s all right, little one, everything is all right,” he reassured her. She seemed to settle down after a few more minutes, until she was quietly sniffling and her breathing was less hitched.

  “Daddy,” she tried a third time. He kissed her on the head again.

  “Yes, little one?” he prompted.

  “He threw all the Christmas crackers on the fire one year because I argued that I’d won the toy when he said I hadn’t. Then he threw a lot of other stuff on there, too. It was awful. He burned...” She began crying again and it took her another few minutes to be able to speak. “He burned his and mom’s wedding photo album. And... and my mom looked so destroyed, she sobbed and then ran upstairs, and I didn’t see her for two more days. Next time I saw her, it was like a light had gone out in her eyes. It was like she was a robot, not my mommy.” Chloe cried harder again. Bradley wanted to cry for her, too. He held her, and let her find her own center again.

  This whole Christmas plan had seemed like such a great idea, but was he doing more harm than good? Maybe he should have just gotten her to go back to her psychologist instead. Chloe had attended weekly sessions with her psychologist for about a year, and then she’d stopped, explaining that she didn’t feel like she needed to go anymore. Obviously, she still had dozens of hang-ups about little things, especially around Christmastime when everything set her off.

  Bradley originally thought she was in a good place to work through these issues, but now he was having second thoughts. He hadn’t been prepared for the strength of emotion some of these memories would bring with them. Had this whole idea been too ambitious? Or was this the darkness before dawn? He decided it would be best to call Chloe’s psychologist tomorrow, just to make sure Chloe was well enough to continue, and maybe take her downtown for therapy if it would help.

  Not for the first time, he was glad they had found a psychologist who was okay with talking about the kinky stuff.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BABY’S FIFTH CHRISTMAS

  “Ugh, but why do I have to talk to her today?” Chloe asked. “I want to watch Sesame Street!”

  “I need to make sure you’re in good enough shape to continue our Christmas roleplay, little one. You can be an adult or a little girl when we get to Dr. Dawnson’s office, but you’re going to talk to her either way,” he told her.

  Chloe huffed and folded her arms. She was fine. Okay, so yesterday had been pretty painful, but she thought the whole point of these twelve days was for her to work through her emotions, so why was Daddy making her see the psychologist instead of spending all day pretending it was Christmas? She just wanted to ignore the outside world today; especially since she’d sneaked a glance at her phone this morning and found a message on there that she didn’t want to deal with.

  In the early morning light, Bradley fastened Chloe’s safety belt then got into the driver’s seat and started the car. The drive into town took forever in the rush hour traffic, but eventually they drew into the lot for the psychologist’s office.

  Chloe had mixed feelings about going inside. It wasn’t that she disliked the psychologist, she just didn’t feel like she had anything to say to her today. She felt fine with everything, and didn’t understand why Bradley was being so insistent about this.

  When they reached the empty waiting area, Chloe knelt on the floor and played with the toys that had been left on a low table for children to use. She rolled the toy car over the flat surface then she got all the magazines for grown-ups, which had been left on a different table, and she arranged them into a big slide. She pushed the car down it, and watched it zoom across the waiting area. It was going at full speed when it ran into the neat leather boot that belonged to Dr. Dawnson. Chloe looked up and gulped in embarrassment.

  “Oops, sorry,” she said, coloring red. Scooping up all the magazines in her arms, she put them back on the table then went to retrieve the car. Dr. Dawnson had picked it up and was examining it.

  “Good choice,” she said with a smile.

  She handed the car back to Chloe, who hastily put it with the other toys before going into the psychologist’s office with Bradley. Chloe found his hand and squeezed it tight as they sat on the couch, then he explained to Dr. Dawnson about why he’d made a last-minute appointment.

  Dr. Dawnson listened to his concerns, then turned to Chloe.

  “How do you feel about everything?”

  “I keep getting upset, like, really upset, about things. But then I feel better. Like, better than before.”

  “And when you’re upset, can you describe that for me?”

  “I cry a lot and my heart feels sad. Sometimes angry, as well.”

  “You feel better after?”

  “Yeah.” Chloe nodded.

  “When do you start to feel better?”

  “When...” she glanced up at Bradley, slightly embarrassed about talking about this with someone else, even though she knew Dr. Dawnson was kink-friendly. But Bradley wouldn’t stop worrying, so Chloe knew she had to open up. “When Daddy holds me, and tells me it’s going to be all right, and kisses my hair or rubs my back, everything fades away, until nothing else is important. I don’t care about some stupid man who ruined Christmas year after year, even if his name is on my birth certificate, because my real daddy is right here and I love him and trust him, and he always knows how to make me feel better and he would never do anything to scare me. Well, ‘cept on accident maybe.”

  “Chloe, can you step outside for a moment, please? I need to talk to your daddy.”

  Chloe nodded and went outside. The toys were way more interesting than boring grown-up conversations, and soon she was making the car go through a tunnel of chair legs while she waited for her daddy to be done worrying about her.

  WHEN THEY GOT BACK to the house, Bradley felt more confident that he was doing all the right things. Talking to Dr. Dawnson had been helpful, even if she just confirmed that they were safe to continue. She had given him signs to look out for, and he had her cellphone number so he could call her any time if he needed urgent advice or to bring Chloe back. Generally, she had been supportive of what they were doing, so Bradley felt content that he was acting in Chloe’s best interests, which was all he ever wanted. Nothing but the best for his baby girl.

  Her fifth Christmas was going to be a wonderful Christmas dinner, with roast beef and all the trimmings. He’d put it in to cook before they went out, and he just knew that Chloe was going to love it.

  “Daddy? Can we eat out one day?” Chloe asked. Bradley’s heart fell a little. He’d gotten a wonderful dinner planned, and she wanted to go out. He thought for a moment before replying.

  “Today we’re going to stay home, but maybe the day after tomorrow we could go somewhere nice. Would you like that?”

  Chloe nodded. Bradley was a little relieved. He’d planned a different type of Christmas dinner for each different day now she was acting old enough to eat solid foods, and he was looking forward to helping her try goose, duck, and lamb on different days. His food schedule allowed for a little flexibility, however, and eating out might be a nice change of pace for them. As long as she wasn’t going t
o demand they did it today, everything would fall into place.

  While he prepared the rest of their meal, Bradley put Sesame Street on the TV and his heart soared when he watched Chloe sing along with Elmo. He loved her so much; he wanted her to only have happy memories of Christmas, and he had nothing but contempt for her parents. He was angry with her father, who had left her so traumatized, and with her mother, who had pretended everything was fine, turning a blind eye and leaving Chloe in the line of fire instead of doing the right thing and taking Chloe away from the horrific situation.

  To avoid ruminating on everything, Bradley talked himself through what he was doing, and soon food was ready on the table. He went to the living room and stroked Chloe’s hair.

  “Time for Christmas dinner, little one,” he told her. Her entire body seemed to light up, then she was on her feet and hurrying into the kitchen to take her place at the table.

  “Beef comes from moo cows!” Chloe declared knowledgably.

  Bradley chuckled to himself. “It sure does. Where does salmon come from?”

  “Fishies in the sea!” Chloe announced.

  “Would you like some salmon today?” Bradley asked.

  Chloe giggled and shook her head. “That’s not Christmas dinner!”

  “Would you like some... scrambled eggs?” he asked.

  She shrieked with laughter then shook her head again, apparently giggling too much to reply.

  “Oh, well in that case, you’ll just have to eat the same as Daddy. Do you want to pretend to be a grown-up today and eat grown-up food? You can have roast potatoes, roast beef, carrots, cauliflower, and spinach!”

  Chloe wrinkled her nose when he mentioned spinach. “Roasty ‘tatoes!” she requested.

  “All right, let me get your special princess plate.” Bradley turned to fetch Chloe’s Disney Princess plate and began putting food on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her hide something under the tablecloth. Deciding to wait and see what it was, he set her plate down on the table.

  It was adorable to watch her gobble down all the food he cooked. All was gone, except for the little spinach leaves, which remained to one side of her plate even after she declared, “Finished!”

  “You’ve missed a spot.” He pointed out the spinach.

  She shook her head. “Nuh-uh! Don’t like spinach!”

  “I know, little one, but it’s good for you.”

  “NO, IT’S NOT!” She screamed at the top of her voice. Startled, Bradley didn’t react for a couple of seconds because his first urge was to put his hands over his ears. He quickly switched into dominant mode.

  “Young lady, use your indoor voice to speak to your daddy,” he told her sternly.

  “Spinach isn’t real!” she said, folding her arms.

  “What do you mean? It’s right there on your plate.”

  “Yeah, but it’s fake. Stupid fake spinach!” She picked the spinach up and threw it with all her might at the trashcan. Unfortunately, it landed on the wall above, and splattered, then very slowly slid down to the floor, completely missing the garbage.

  Bradley decided this had gone too far.

  “Young lady, throwing food is never acceptable. You are to go upstairs to your room, and I expect you to apologize when I come up in a min—”

  “Shan’t!” She got to her feet and stomped one of them to show him she meant business. Her phone clattered to the ground and landed screen-down. Bradley stepped forward, watching the look of shock on her face as he scooped her up. Then, while she was over one of his shoulders in a fireman’s lift, he landed three hard swats on her bottom. His other hand firmly held down her legs, which she was trying to kick against him.

  “What is going on, Chloe?”

  Chloe refused to answer, so Bradley reached down for her phone, then carried her upstairs.

  “No! I won’t let you!” she shouted. Bradley paid her no mind as he carefully laid her down on the big double bed that they usually shared when she was in adult space. He turned around to find a paddle, and when he looked back Chloe had vanished.

  It took him a few seconds to figure out where she had gone, then he heard footsteps in the upstairs hallway. He followed, paddle still in hand, and arrived to see the attic hatch was open and the ladder was pulled down. Watching Chloe’s right foot disappear into the attic, Bradley sighed in disappointment, then he went after her.

  In the attic, it was dark. Bradley pulled the cord above the entrance hatch and the room was illuminated. Boxes of knick-knacks and old photos stood amongst pieces of furniture that didn’t seem to fit anywhere else. And behind an old table lamp shaped like an elephant, Chloe crouched with her eyes closed and tears streaming down her face.

  “Talk to me, little one. I need you to tell me what’s running through your mind right now,” Bradley said, forcing his voice to be gentle.

  “Angry,” she replied, still crying.

  “Chloe, why are you so angry at a poor vegetable?” Bradley asked, easing his way into the nook Chloe had crammed herself into. “And why is that turning into anger aimed at me?”

  “I hate spinach! I hate it! It’s all spinach’s fault!” she cried, then she crumpled against Bradley’s shoulder. He put his arms around her and held onto her while she cried. Somehow, the spinach had opened a very deep wound and he didn’t fully understand what the problem was. Instead of probing further, he waited. It took several minutes, but eventually she spoke.

  “Spinach is all fake,” she told him.

  “You said that earlier, and I didn’t understand what you meant. Can you explain it for Daddy? He’s lost his thinking cap!”

  “Like, you see spinach on Popeye, and it makes him all strong so he can fight off the bad man, but you eat it for real and it just makes your tummy feel icky. It doesn’t give you muscles to fight off bad grownups when they’re picking on you!” She began to cry again as Bradley realized the extent of the problem.

  “I ate spinach every day when I was little. I didn’t like it. I thought it was yucky, but I thought if I ate enough of it I could grow big and strong. My mom thought I loved spinach, because I always asked for it, but I hated it. Every day, I forced myself to eat it anyway. It made me feel sick but I kept eating it. I thought it was the only thing that might save me from my father. But it never worked.” When she looked up at him, the betrayal in her face was so profound that Bradley’s stomach lurched. He kissed her and snuggled her and shushed her, all the while getting angrier at her parents.

  “I used to watch Popeye on a DVD. It only had a few episodes on it. Every day, I’d watch it over and over. I was scouring every scene for information about how Popeye got the spinach to work. I couldn’t figure it out. I even got a marker pen and drew an anchor tattoo on one of my arms. When my dad saw it, he called me a filthy whore and he put my arm under really hot water, and scrubbed at it so hard with a scrubbing brush that it was red for days. I didn’t know what to do to make the spinach work.”

  “Do you think you were fixated on the spinach, and on Popeye, because they made you feel like you were in control?” Bradley asked gently. Chloe’s eyes widened then she nodded.

  “I never thought of it like that.”

  “It was a fictional TV show. There was no way it was ever going to really work like that.”

  “But it had to come from somewhere! Everyone always says spinach is good for you!”

  “Yes, because it gives you some of your daily value of vitamins, not because it turns you into Dwayne Johnson if you eat it the right way!”

  “Don’t be mean!” Chloe retorted. “I’m not stupid for thinking that!”

  As fresh tears fell, Bradley inwardly cursed himself for causing them. “I’m sorry, little one, I didn’t mean to imply that you were stupid for eating spinach. But you need to realize—now you’re an adult—that spinach didn’t lie to you or betray you.”

  “But I trusted it to help me,” Chloe whispered. When Bradley got a glance at her face, he saw that she was desola
te.

  “I know, little one. But if I trust a lamp post not to let me walk into it, then I walk into it with my own two legs, did the lamp post betray me?”

  She shook her head. “I guess not.”

  “So, if you trusted spinach to make you strong, and it didn’t work, should you be mad at the spinach?”

  “No, you’re right. I should be mad at myself!” She began tearing at her hair with her fists, and Bradley felt alarmed. He’d never seen anyone do this before.

  “Chloe, please stop,” he began, but she wasn’t listening.

  “Why am I always so stupid?” she yelled. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

  Without thinking, he got on top of her, sending the table with the elephant lamp flying across the attic with a crash and a smash, then pinned her arms against the small of her back. He landed some swats with the paddle and his cock began to harden when she yelped. He pushed his own feelings down and concentrated on getting Chloe back out of the pit she had tumbled into.

  “One. Spinach is an innocent vegetable.” He landed the paddle with a sharp swat and marveled at the noise it made, followed by Chloe’s squeak of pain as her sit spot began to redden.

  “Two. You are not stupid. You are traumatized and something set you off.” He landed the paddle again, and she growled into the floorboards beneath her.

  “Three. I really liked that elephant lamp, but I care about you more than anything else in this house. And all my best stuff is here. So, stop hurting yourself. Because I really hate buying new furniture.” He brought down the paddle on her sit spot, harder, and felt a sense of satisfaction when she squeaked. She’d come down from attacking herself, but she still needed more, so he decided to pepper the rest of her cheeks with paddle swats to ensure she stayed contrite for a while yet.