Continued from “Going Postal, I.”
Little Charli Andersen loved to watch the world from her front window.
On Garbage Day, the garbage truck came. On Not-Preschool Days, her big brother’s carpool pulled up and honked. And, every day, Santa Claus parked his white pickup truck at their street’s mailbox.
At least, she thought he was Santa Claus. He was old and had white hair and sometimes brought presents to the porch. Her mother didn’t show Charli what the present-boxes had inside, but she knew they must be something happy. Almost every box had a smile on the side.
Today was no exception. *Ding* beeped her touchscreen game. *Snip* *snip* went her mother’s scissors. *Oh, I know, Honey* said the lady in the haircut chair.
A blink of white from beyond the window reflected onto Charli’s game. Santa was at the mailbox again! She watched him ease out of his truck and shuffle to the back. Her hand hung poised over the screen as she saw him pull out a large present, heft it to a new position, and stagger toward her house.
Charli saw the usual smile on the package’s side. She had to know what Santa brought this time, before her mother took it. Glancing up to confirm that her mother was busy working, Charli set the tablet down and snuck to the front door. She opened it just as Santa arrived at the top of their porch stairs, huffing.
“Well, hi, little girl!” he said, smiling. He set the box down near the edge and leaned against the railing.
Charli smiled and looked at her feet. She didn’t know what to say, now that she’d finally met him.
Santa scratched his face. He didn’t have a beard. “Didja like the rain we got yesterday?” he asked.
She nodded, still looking down.
“Didja see the rainbow?”
She jerked her head up in surprise. He still smiled kindly at her. She saw his eyes were the color of the sky. “No,” she said.
He gave her a sympathetic frown. “That’s alright. You can see one next time it rains.”
Another nod. She ground a bare toe into the doorstep in a twirl. “What’s in the present?” she managed to ask.
“Hm? Present?” He looked confused, Then, his attention turned to the large box at his feet. “Oh! Well! …This isn’t a present-”
Charlie’s face fell.
“-Not this time!” he added, holding up a reassuring hand.
Her expression lightened, curious.
“Yep,” Santa said, “Looks like this big box is some fancy food storage for your big family.” He gave a soft chuckle.
Her mouth puckered and she scowled.
He laughed outright. “Ha! This’s some high-quality stuff. ‘Time’ll come, some people’ll kill for this stuff! -Now, run on inside and tell your mommy about it so no one takes it. ”
She nodded again, and scuttled back inside. Her mother liked knowing about packages. She didn’t like when Charli opened the door without asking.
Continued at “Going Postal, III.”
©2020 Chelsea Owens