Krampus and the Kolaches

by J. D. Douwes

  “We must make haste.” He guides me along the walkway.

  We spend the next few minutes practically running through the second floor of the mall. When we’re finally done, we trot down the stairs to the first floor.

  “Look, I need to get to the competition. I know you want to find the kid. Please come with me. It won’t make sense if you’re not there. Our dark music is mostly about Krampus and stuff like that, remember?”

  He shakes his head, looking confused.

  Had he never read the lyrics? I mean, his costume should have given him a clue. “Okay. Whatever. But can we take a break from our search and get the competition out of the way?”

  What I want him to say is, “Let’s just go. He’ll show up.” Because that’s legit what I’m thinking. The thing is, we’re due at space J in fifteen minutes, and I need to get my kolaches cookies to the bake sale before everything begins.

  “Regrettably, I must find the child. The list cannot wait.”

  “Enough of the method acting, bud.” My anger flares back up. Why doesn’t he ever put me first? “I’m done looking for him.” I’m trying to look him in the eye, but he’s so tall.

  “I cannot go, but you must not miss your competition. I’ll carry on. We shall meet again,” Harry says.

  Kinda a fancy way to say, ‘meet you at our space,’ but I’ll take it. My gaze falls on a blob of icing on his neck. How can he be so clean he has to shower before and after sex but not even notice that he’s got food on his neck? Well, costume, but still.

  “You’ve got a little icing in your fur,” I say. There are cupcake crumbs all over the fur on his neck and chest too. “Here, let me wipe this off for you.”

  He crouches just enough that I can reach easier, turning his gaze to me. His eye color morphs from brown to hazel as he puts his hand on mine. “Thank you, my lady.”

  I grab a napkin out of my bag to wipe him off. “No problem.” He’s giving me butterflies standing this close, his breath so sweet. It’s hard to be mad at him.

  “You are different than the other women in this time,” he says in a soft voice.

  I brush his neck with the back of my fingers, and he leans into my touch, his eyes closed. I’m so caught up in the moment that I’m almost cooing when the motor-purr starts again. “That’s the problem.” I suppress the urge to kiss the remaining crumbs away.

  “You are one of a kind.” He takes my hand and kisses the palm.

  His lips on my hand send chills down my spine. My phone pings over and over again. I glance at it, seeing a flood of group messages, the most recent, variations of —We’re at our spot, no Fred.—

  “Well, maybe I have time for one more search.”

  Chapter 4

  Harry pushes the door open for us, allowing me to go first. Such a gentleman. This isn’t like him. Maybe he’s caught up in the regal attitude that the Krampus costume demands. Either way, we walk into the cold early evening, our breaths pluming out in front of us. Holiday music plays over the loudspeakers, and at least two people dressed in choir robes walk by doing scales and making strange throat sounds as they warm up their voices.

  Harry sniffs the air. “The weather is turning afoul. Snow is destined to fall.” He looks wistfully up into the night’s sky as if he hopes it will start dumping piles of the stuff.

  My weather app agrees: Flurries are expected throughout the night. “Great. This is going to be so much fun,” I say through gritted teeth. I prefer the fall. The weather is always either blustery with leaves floating about or warm and crystal clear. Add in Halloween, and you have the perfect time of year. Frozen is not my thing.

  Visions of singing off-key with my group, shaking from the freezing temperature, and people booing at us fill my thoughts. I stare after a cheerful group of people that brush past us. I don’t remember ever being that happy.

  “We could look for him on the way to our Figgy Pudding spot, where the crew waits for us.”

  Harry nods. “Good.”

  “I think our spot is that way.” I point in the direction of the group who just went by.

  Harry pulls me along with the flow of the crowd, and I reach up to link arms with him. It’s funny how out here, no one even notices he looks different than everyone else. There are no screams, no one trying to back away. One person even stops us and asks for a selfie with him. Out here, you can be anyone you want to be. I spare another glance at my phone to read the messages in more depth. Scrolling through them, I notice that not a single message is from Harry telling us he’d be late.

  “Hey.” I elbow him to get his attention.

  He looks down at me. “Hey.”

  “Why didn’t you answer any of the texts or messages we sent you?”

  He shakes his head, eyes narrowed. “You attempted to reach me?”

  I nod. “For two days. Where’s your phone?” I ask, tilting my head.

  “I don’t use modern contraptions. They just get in the way.”

  “Since when? You just messaged me for a booty call not two nights ago.” We stop to let a little kid dash by to his mom, waiting on the other side.

  “I don’t know of this booty call you speak of.” He frowns.

  “Ugh! Are you serious?” Why does he have to be so sexy and maddening all at the same time?

  “I have upset you, my lady. I meant no disrespect.” His body is warm by my side, and I can swear electricity zaps between us.

  I sigh. Is he losing his mind? “Whatever.”

  He pauses, puts his hand over mine, and we continue strolling along. “I know not of this indiscretion you speak of, but I shall make it up to you.”

  My head feels better, but my stomach churns, and I’m a little woozy in fear of missing the competition. I try to distract myself by reciting the lyrics to our carols without looking at the song folder shoved in my bag. Karol of the Bells is the first song that comes to mind. I start to sing under my breath to try and keep calm. Harry does his head turning-ear cocking-nose sniffing thing as we go.

  His head snaps to the left as he focuses on something in the distance. “The child’s scent is strong in the air.” He pulls me with him as he walks faster.

  An orange head ducks into the coffee shop. What twelve year old’s mother would let him have caffeine at five in the evening? Fred’s satisfied grin floats into my mind. Will it ever go away?

  But that fits.

  “Follow me,” Harry says. He must have seen him too.

  Hope rises in my chest, burning like vomit. We’re going to make it back in time for the competition!

  I yawn, opening the back of my throat like my vocal coach taught me, and do scales as we walk. The notes are quiet inside my head, but Harry’s glance sideways at me proves otherwise. He smiles softly and doesn’t say a word, just patiently drags me through the crowded sidewalk.

  Encouraged by his smile, I switch to a different key. I might be imagining it, but I can swear that the people walking past are squinting at me in confusion. One child looks at me in outright disgust, covering their ears. And then it hits me. Maybe I don’t sound as good out loud as I do inside my head. I snap my mouth closed and stop humming. My cheeks tingle, and my chest constricts as embarrassment floods my body, that hope slowly sinking.

  ****

  The next thing I know, we’re standing in front of the coffee shop. Harry pulls the door open and holds it ajar so I can enter first. A wall of bodies prevents us from going too far into the store. The warm smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts toward us seductively. We’re stuck at the back of the room. Good thing Harry is so tall.

  A woosh of cold air from behind us whirls around the entryway.

  “There you are,” a familiar voice says.

  I glance behind me, and there’s Cindy. Her nose is red from the cold, her curls back in pristine order. She shoves me aside, my right breast smashing up against an embarrassed-looking teenager. Betcha he never dreamt he’d get to second base at a coffee shop tonight.

  I carefully tur
n around so I’m not pleasuring the teen without consent and forget why we’re here. Because Cindy is pressing her chest against Harry, that look on her face. I’m not dumb. I’ve seen how Harry flirts with her at parties and how she responds.

  “Have you found Fred?” she asks, her grimace widening. I know that look: that’s Cindy’s evil grin. She has a million shades of grimaces in her arsenal, but not even one is a kind smile.

  “Thought I saw him come in here.” I narrow my eyes. Harry’s mine, I think. “Hey, I have an idea,” I say out loud, leaning toward the two. “You should go look somewhere else.” Like Canada. “We’ve got this covered.”

  I can’t tell what Harry thinks about Cindy’s advances, being I’m only at chest level. I lean back to see his face. Wonder of wonders, he’s panning the room in search of the kid as if he’s immune to Cindy’s feminine wiles. The knot in my stomach loosens a little.

  I tap Harry on the arm. “We need to hurry. Do you see Fred?”

  The kid I just squished my breasts against looks back at me, shrinking away.

  Harry’s eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. “No, he’s not here.”

  “Bossing him around?” Cindy asks. “You’re sure full of yourself.”

  I return her glare. “I’m politely asking Harry a question.” I move forward as space opens up. “That’s a lot different from ordering someone around. You should try it sometime.”

  Cindy stands on tiptoe and whispers in Harry’s ear. He leans away from her, his upper lip curled in disgust. “Why do you touch me?”

  With a shift of her weight, she giggles and rubs her face against Harry’s chest, breathing in before straightening up. “You’re silly. I’ll meet you back at the space.”

  What the hell? That bitch is trying to make a move on my man––in front of me. For the love of all that’s Christmas, she’s married!

  Cindy pushes her way through the newcomers to the door. A swish and a breeze later, and we’re alone in the crowded cafe.

  Reeling from Harry’s reaction to Cindy, I can’t help but smile. He just dissed her. He’s never done that before. “Let’s go?” I turn as best I can to propel Harry to the exit.

  He nods and gently slides past me to open the door, ducking his head to get ready to exit.

  Sounds from the street outside sneak through the cracked open door; people talk and laugh, the carol ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ is on at full volume. Harry pushes harder with shouts of “ouch,” and “hey,” from the other side. Apparently, he’s shoving a group of people jammed up against the door out of the way. A pair of twenty-something hipsters are our victims, one of them rubbing their nose. Who stands with their nose pressed against the entrance of a coffee shop? That’s just asking for trouble.

  “Sorry about that.” I slip through an opening in the crowd, leaving Harry behind. I need a little space to think. What the hell is up with Cindy? Where did the kid go? Am I going to destroy the lyrics and sing off-key, sparking a social media frenzy?

  I risk a glance behind me when I make it to the corner, but I can’t see Harry anywhere. What if he doesn’t make it in time for the performance? I’m shaking; my coat pulled tight around my body. Another wave of dizziness takes over, but I shove it down, taking slow, deep breaths. Harry’s an adult. He knows where we’re meeting; he can figure it out.

  An elf slams into me, and my muscles melt, my body sliding in slow motion to the ground.

  Guess you can’t shove down dizzy spells.

  Chapter 5

  We’re in the middle of a crowded street corner when we collide. Their boxes fly into the air. The lights sparkle around us, their twinkle turning into blurred dots.

  There’s a moment where I swear time freezes––like we’re in the space between two notes of a song playing over the loudspeaker. The elf’s hands shoot out impossibly fast, catching me, somehow grabbing this box and that in our soundless bubble. The elf winks at me, and everything seems to go back to normal, the music blaring and people talking all around us.

  “Gosh, I’m sorry,” the elf says, helping me to stand. “You need to drink some water.” Their hat jingles as they catch the last tumbling boxes with ease. “Easy to get dehydrated in this weather.” The elf holds me with their stare until I return their look. “Don’t be afraid to change course. It will all work out.” They hurry off.

  What just happened there? As the people around me stop spinning, I become aware of my surroundings. This looks like the heart of the caroling area, fully packed with booths, carolers, and shoppers. The information booth is to my left: an arrangement of tables under a canopy. There are so many people around me I don’t see Harry anywhere. I’m kicking myself for not holding on to him when we left the coffee shop.

  I might be imagining things, but it sounds like Marion and June are nearby. Following their voices, I can see them standing in the middle of a group of people at the information booth, their costumes making them stand out.

  “Khalie! We found Fred!” Marion calls, her back rigid against the cold. My app says it’s dropped to twenty-five degrees.

  Anger simmers inside of me as I shove through carolers and people dressed in thick jackets and gloves. “Great,” I say, finally making it to the table. I feel like crap, yet I still wasted an hour of my life looking for that kid. I’ve called in sick to work for less! Never mind the fact that Fred and his mom have taken away my practice time.

  “Can I help you?” A slack-jawed woman in a Santa hat and jacket asks.

  “I have cookies for the bake sale,” I say over the music on the loudspeakers and the people talking around us. “Where should I bring them?” The wind blows through my thin trench coat. I wish I had a warmer coat.

  She picks up the paper and points to a letter. “Go over there. See where that person with the Santa hat is sitting?”

  “Oh yeah.” I nod.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Thank you.” I turn and leave with June and Marion.

  “We’re this way,” June says, guiding us. A lazy snowflake drifts by.

  I reach out to try and catch it, my fingers as cold as popsicles. “Would you look at that? Harry was right.”

  June stops, forcing the stream of foot traffic to reroute around us amid loud complaints. She tilts her head back, mouth open to try and catch another one, but Marion tugs on us to get us moving.

  Our breath forms a cloud around the three of us as we plow our way through the crowded intersection. The realization that the competition is going to happen, whether I’m ready or not, is sinking in. My thoughts turn to Cindy, making my stomach roll. Who does she think she is moving in on my man? I can’t stop replaying the way she pressed her face into Harry’s chest and whispered in his ear at the coffee shop.

  “Are we close?” My nose is numb.

  June nods. “Yes.” She points through the packed street up ahead.

  “Who are those people talking to Dina and Fred?” A surge of adrenaline shoots to my icy toes. A string bean man and a short woman with spiky grey hair hold out a donation jar to them.

  “That’s the gal running the whole thing.” Marion speeds up.

  My insides seize up. “They’re judges?” My voice squeaks on the last syllable. It’s like I’m in high school trying to get the choir leader’s approval all over again.

  I walk faster.

  “Yes, I think they’re half of the team that judges,” June says.

  They are walking to the next group when we arrive. June goes to her bag resting at Harry’s feet. Well shit. So that’s where he went.

  He’s sitting on her cooler, mask off, peering at his phone. He looks like a little boy who just woke from a nap, cheeks rosy, the Krampus costume pooling around him. That’s weird. I could swear he was wearing makeup earlier. What’s that about? The flaccid mask and taloned gloves that lay on his lap look even more disturbing than when he wore them.

  “Khalie! Where on earth did you go?” I turn, and there’s Cindy, with Dina and Fred to her left.
A guy and two girls walk up and start talking to June. I crane to hear what they’re saying, but there is too much going on around us.

  “We kept texting you saying Harry found Fred, but you never answered,” Dina says as loud as she can. Is it me, or does she say everything in a snotty voice?

  June’s laughter catches my attention. She’s saying something about our ghost hunting group.

  A kid dashes past me, bumping into everyone they go by as I pull my phone out. I scowl and look at the chat. Sure enough, there are twenty-two missed group messages, all coming in about the time we left the coffee shop. “Sorry, I’ve been trying not to use my phone to save battery.” I mean, partial truth, I do need to save my battery.

  Marion adjusts her chignon and sighs. “We need to work on our communication.”

  “Hey Harry.” I wave at him.

  “Hey.” His face is slack with disinterest. Music wafts up; he’s watching videos for the songs we’re going to sing tonight.

  Oh God, he didn’t practice already? For the past month, our group got together twice a week to practice our songs. By now, we have the harmony nailed, but he hadn’t made it to any practices.

  Fred crouches on the ground playing with an old handheld video game, long coat wrapped around his thighs. I flick his ear. “Where have you been? I can’t believe I wasted an hour looking for you even though you set me on fire. I should have called the cops.”

  It looks like he’s trying to melt into the ground. Maybe he feels terrible about maiming me and ruining my costume.

  “I didn’t do it.” He’s absorbed in his game.

  Yeah, maybe not. The trio walks off, leaving the seven of us alone in the middle of the crowded intersection.

  Cindy puts an arm around Harry, rubbing his short brown hair. She calls out to me, “Harry was stuck in traffic when we were trying to reach him. He found the kid on his way over here.” Her voice is loud and clear over the murmur of conversation and music.