how old were you when you stopped believing in santa? i know i was like, nine? ten? when i did. little me stopped to contemplate my brand-new copy of pokemon black, and i wondered if santa's workshop had an official license from nintendo to make copies of their games. 

...it was easier to accept the nonexistence of santa claus than to think about the legal ramifications of that. 

so that's my story. but my best friend's is a lot more interesting. we were well into seventh grade and she was still a firm believer in santa. middle school being middle school, it made her a prime target for our resident tormentors who fancied themselves popular. i always made sure to offer a date with my fists if they ever said a word about her. 

(not that i knew how to use my fists to begin with; it's the message that matters, y'know?)

fortunately, my best friend never let them get to her. come christmas, their heckling fell on deaf ears, and she was certain that santa would continue his correspondence with her. she was very hopeful that way. i think those people were just jealous of that, in hindsight. 

we've known each other practically our whole lives, and her wishes to santa were always... unique, so to speak. in second grade, she asked him if he could end world hunger. santa replied with a wad of cash and a slip of paper that had an address printed on it. it turned out to be the address for our local soup kitchen, and she and i spent that christmas helping them out. fourth grade, she didn't really ask for much except an explanation for all the crazy things she'd been seeing in the news, and what she got from santa's whimsical north pole workshop, lovingly crafted by his silly little elves, was a book i'll charitably dub "baby's first political science textbook". she loved it. we were playing with my brand-new my little pony dolls and she was getting twilight sparkle to establish a democratic system of government in equestria. more power to her, i guess. 

so you can imagine that, by seventh grade, i was mentally preparing myself for whatever outlandish request she'd ask of jolly ol' saint nicholas. what would it be this time? the presidency? homes for the homeless? a public transportation system that didn't break down every hour? 

"okay, how about this? 'dear santa, i really want to spend time with dad this christmas. it's been a long time since we could celebrate the holidays together, and i hope you can do some of your christmas magic and bring him home this time. yours truly, den-den.' you think that sounds good?" 

i had to pause for a moment. you know how i stopped believing in santa at age nine? well. i figured over the years since then that her gifts from santa had to come from somewhere. someone. someone working overtime across the ocean from us.

"sure, den. it does sound good."

i wondered how santa would figure this one out.

i'd known den-den for eight out of twelve years of my life at that point, and i think i only ever saw her dad like, twice in that time span. it's sadly nothing special around here; there's more money to be made abroad after all. you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who DIDN'T have a relative working overseas than otherwise. it's normal. but when it's your best friend, it just hits different, yeah? i hated seeing her turn away during family days at school, when all the dads would be called to join their kids in a race or something. i hated to see her skip report card day because she only had one parent to bring. but the worst of it?

"i wish i had your dad, alec," she'd say.

"you don't, dude," i'd tell her in return. "he makes the kitchen look like a typhoon passed by when he's done cooking."

she'd giggle for a bit, at least, before her expression turned morose once more.

"but at least he's there."

i hated it when she said that the most, because it hurts to see your best friend give up. den-den is first and foremost a hopeful person, and when she says that, it means she's almost ready to lose that hope.

the keyword is almost.

christmas break came and went that year without hearing from her throughout the entire week. usually we'd chat nonstop over e-mail during the holidays and weekends. this was especially troubling to me. was she heartbroken? maybe she was sad and lonely when it was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. i spammed her inbox, over and over, asking if she was okay, if everything was alright, if there was anything i could do for her. i was shaking with nerves when i finally decided to give up and call her landline. the ringtone blared through the speakers. i tapped my fingers against the dresser. it felt like eons before my call finally went through. i took in a deep breath to spout out all the worry that had been building up in me the past few days, and...

"good evening, who am i speaking to?"

it was her mom who picked up the phone. my heart sank. i gripped the phone tighter in my hands. 

"um. hi, auntie. it's me, alec. may i speak to den-den?"

"oh! alec! sure thing, let me hand her the phone," her mom said, leaving me to anticipate the worst. i heard her footfalls down the flight of stairs, every step in time with the hammering of my pulse. clinking glass and silverware rang into my ear as den-den's mom approached their dining room. and there was laughter.

laughter?

"den-den, it's alec," her mom said, handing her the phone. well, this was it. the moment of truth. 

den put the phone to her ear. 

"d-den? are you alright?" i said. you could hear the fear in my voice. 

"alec! what's wrong? i should be asking YOU that," she said. 
 
"i just wanted to check up on you. i didn't hear from you at all! i was worried that--"

i was cut off by the distant boom of a deep, baritone voice through the telephone.

"is that alec? it's been a long time! tell her she should come visit now that i'm here!" 

den giggled. all the worry and anxiety that was in me dissipated in a flash. i couldn't believe it.

"--nevermind," i said, heaving out a sigh of relief. "santa pulled through again with your impossible wishes, huh?"

even though i couldn't see her face through the phone, den definitely had the biggest smile on her face at that moment.

"yeah. he always does."

did she know the whole time? 

i had to smile, too, either way.

"i guess that's that, then. merry christmas, den."

"merry christmas to you too, alec!"

i was nine? ten? when i stopped believing in santa. that was when i realized that there was no fat man in red delivering toys to all the children. but my best friend kept hoping and believing in a santa who gave her much more than that. her santa gave her wisdom, and taught her values, and guided her the best he could while he was miles and miles away from the most important child in the world to him.

she stopped sending letters to santa after seventh grade. there was just no more need to. that christmas, santa gave her more than she could have ever asked for. 

every time i came to visit her house after that, her dad was always there to greet me with a smile.

