The Magic of Macy's

Santa’s workshop was packed to the brim. Not with screaming, boogery children. No, not yet. That didn’t start until the morning. But, the hundred-plus dead-inside employees were there, awaiting the yearly lecture from the pep captain, Dick Combs.

“Hello, hello, hello!” He clapped his hands together. The sound echoed in the large space. I slumped into the wooden chair that Ralph, our resident Santa, would be occupying tomorrow (and the day after that and the day after that until this nightmare called Christmas was over). I crossed my khaki-clad legs and peered around at the store in disgust. It looked like Chris Cringle had gobbled down paper angels, streamers, cookies, and every hideous ornament he could find, and then violently vomited the remains everywhere.

“Now as you all know,” Dick grinned widely, shaking in his Macy’s suit in excitement. “Tomorrow morning marks the beginning of our Christmas season: Black Friday!” He paused as if to wait for an applause that was never going to come from any of the exhausted employees. “It’s all very exciting and I am so pleased with how the decorations turned out this year. Thanks for your super, duper, Macy’s spirit!”

I blinked, picking at my chipped nails. I needed to repaint them. And get a new job.

“Now, you all know your jobs tomorrow, for those of you lucky ducks who are signed up for the all-day shift.” He winked, pulling out the papers that held the names of the ones unfortunate enough to work the Black Friday sale. “Ralph won’t be coming in until later, once the craziness of the morning sale wears off and folks start coming in with their kids.”

“Lucky Ralph.” I muttered, earning a snicker from my nearest companion.

“Don’t forget to be here by four-fifteen to make sure everything is perfect! I know you’ve all been given your super, duper special uniforms for tomorrow. And, Lucy,” Dick stopped in this middle of his pep talk, holding up a plastic bag with a green and red costume. “Don’t forget this. You conveniently left it in the dumpster.” He scolded, tossing it down from his podium to my lap, before putting that winning smile back on his face. “Now, go on folks! Get some rest and bring that Christmas cheer tomorrow! See you bright and squirrelly!”

And with that cheerful statement, we were dismissed.

“Trying to get out of the super, duper uniform?” The person who had snickered earlier questioned. I lazily glanced over from my throne and was met with a flame of hair.

“It’s a fucking elf costume, Sebastian. I’m not wearing it.” I mashed at the plastic angrily, knowing that I was going to wear it, and lose what little sanity and pride I had left in doing so.

“For the next four weeks you are. And you’re not the only one with a bullshit costume.” Sebastian smirked, nudging me to get up, “C’mon. Let’s head home.”

Sebastian and I lived together in a small two-bedroom flat in Kingsbridge. It was no Ritz but the rent was as cheap as we could safely allow. We took the subway to and from work almost every day. I had Tuesdays and Saturdays off to take a few courses online at the community college. Sebastian had the weekends off to do whatever. He flunked out of NYU his freshman year so school wasn’t exactly on his list of priorities anymore.

Originally the apartment had been Sebastian’s. When I ran off to New York in hopes of a clean start, I found his roommate request at a local Starbucks and the rest was history.

“How does two day old Chinese food sound?” Sebastian asked from the fridge the moment we walked through the door.

“Marvelous.” I muttered sarcastically, plopping myself on the couch and flipping on the television. A page came up instead of the usual news and I shouted from my spot, “Did you forget to pay the bill again?”

“It was your turn.” He replied, sniffing the white box of noodles.

“Oh, fuck. It was, wasn’t it.” I turned off the screen and stretched out. “Care for some internet porn?”

Sebastian snorted and tossed the box away. “Let’s order in, shall we?”

“Marvelous.” I repeated. He picked up his cell and pressed the third number in his speed dial. The first was his mother’s. The second was me.

I ripped open the plastic casing around my costume and let it topple out onto the pleather couch riddled in holes. With pure disgust on my face, I picked up the pointy shoes with bells with my thumb and index finger. “Seb,” I cried urgently, “Seb, c’mere, quick!”

He hurried over at the urgency of my voice. His phone was on his chest as he peered over the couch to what was causing me such agony. Sebastian took one look at the shoe and burst into a cacophony of laughter. He held the phone to me, signaling that he was no longer in a condition to order dinner.

“Go fuck yourself.” I muttered, taking the phone, “Mr. Wong? Yeah, we’ll have the usual.” The usual. I felt so poor and ghetto when I said that to anyone in the neighborhood.

“Oh, god,” Sebastian wiped the tears from his eyes as he gradually calmed down. “You can’t just do things like that to me, Luce. It’s bad for my health.”

“Yeah, well because you laughed at my hell for the next four weeks, you’re paying for dinner.” I crossed my arms childishly.

He snorted, red-face, rolling his hazel eyes, "When don't I pay?"