The Santa Claus suit drooped from Clive’s bony arms. It fit him like adult clothing does a twelve-year-old. He pulled a needle from his arm and placed it with the others. Mold and dust sat beneath his Christmas tree, still left out from the previous year. He picked up the neon T-Rex he bought for his boy and wobbled to his car.

In the rare moments Clive managed to leave the tattered mattress on his floor, he failed to make conversation with others. Drugs and booze distorted his words. You have nice shoes came out as I want your shoes. Anytime he tried to do something good, he made his life worse. He went to see his boy play baseball, but he passed out in the stands and spent the night in jail. After his wife kicked him out, he bought her roses, but a week passed before he could get out of bed, and the flowers he left on her doorstep were dead.

Maybe it was the drugs talking, but this Christmas he would not forget to give Chris a present. He drove to his wife’s house, his car acquiring a few new nicks on the way. The fake Santa beard made his face itch, but at least it kept out some of the rain. Clive still stepped in a puddle on the way to the door. When she opened it, it took a moment before she realized it was him wearing the suit and started screaming. He wanted to explain he’d be gone in a few seconds, but words once again escaped him.

“You piece of shit,” she said. “I told you not to come here.”

“I’ve got a present for Chris,” he said. He hoped she’d understand. In back of his head, a part of him knew he probably should have called first. But he had made it to the house. And he did have the gift. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

His son ran to the door.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Clive said. “Merry Christmas, Chris.”

She grabbed his suit. “You motherfucker. Are you high right now? Gary! Clive is here. Beat the shit out of him.”

Clive shut out her screams. Focused on Chris and kneeled down to be level with him. “Merry Christmas, buddy. Here’s a present.” He handed Chris the T-Rex.

“Gary! Get out here now, and beat the shit out of him,” she yelled.

“I love you, Chris,” Clive said.

“I love you too, daddy,” said Chris before running back inside.

Gary appeared behind her with a baseball bat. “We told you, man. Leave now or you’re gonna feel it.”

Clive walked backwards to his car. “Merry Christmas, Chris. Your daddy loves you.”

He smiled at Gary and drove home to celebrate.