Tracy woke up the way he did almost every day, dark and early with a smile on his face. His arm clock read 3:29 AM, and by the time it had ticked over to 3:30 he was already on his feet, ready to brush his teeth to his favorite Christmas cssic, “Jingle Bell Rock,”as it bred from the tinny speaker. He let the song py all the way through before shutting the arm off; he felt it was important to always start the day in a good mood and there’s no better way to do that than listening to festive music.
He headed back to the bathroom for the most important part of his morning routine, brushing his long blonde hair. His hair had been his proudest feature for as long as he could remember. One of his oldest memories was of sobbing, begging his mother not to cut it short like the other boys had. He smiled at the memory of his mother bending down to promise him that she wouldn’t, she was just cutting the ends off to make it healthier, and that she’d teach him how to take good care of his hair like she did. She kept her promise, and he’d prized his “fxen mane,” as his mom described it, ever since.
He finished up in the bathroom with his morning makeup, some concealer, blush, and some bck mascara that no one ever seemed to notice despite his hair and eyebrows not matching.
He slipped off his silk pajamas and his smile leapt right back onto his face as he realized that it was Wednesday. Not only did that mean that Christmas was only a week away, it meant he got to wear his Wednesday outfit to work. Tracy liked to be prepared, so he had a work outfit for every day of the week, and Wednesday’s was his favorite to make up for being smack in the middle of the week. He excitedly pulled on his pink button-up and khaki chinos. He wasn’t quite so excited about his shoes, despite matching colorwise, his brown running shoes weren’t quite as nice as the rest of his clothes, but he was on his feet all day at the coffee shop so he didn’t want to wear anything too nice that would leave him sore.
He glided into the kitchen for a quick breakfast of a hard-boiled egg and a yogurt parfait. He then hurried back to the bathroom to put on his favorite pink lipstick, and then wiped most of it off to leave only the barest hint of color, and finally checked the time. Good, he thought, 3:50 AM, he had plenty of time. He headed back to the kitchen and filled a pot with bird seed. His duplex neighbor Eine filled their yard with heated birdhouses, baths, and feeders so that there could be birds around all year. Tracy volunteered himself to fill the feeders for her, since in her old age she was too frail to carry much.
He slipped on his coat, did his very brief shift as birdseed deliveryman, returned his pot to his kitchen, and headed off to work.
Schmoe's Joe was located in what passed for downtown, which meant that the road narrowed to two nes, and the frightful concentration of hotels on the way into town gave way. The town’s main street was a long thoroughfare filled up with sweet little bakeries, diners, souvenir shops, ski rentals, and, of course, Schmoe’s Joe. Tracy had to do a bit of a loop to get to the employee parking behind the store, but he wasn’t in a hurry.
After parking, he grabbed his set of store keys from the glovebox and headed inside. The building was cozy, deliberately contrasting itself with some modern design trends by filling the space with comfortable leather chairs, wooden tables with some cssic board and card games, and even a firepce. Joe, the proprietor of Schmoe’s Joe, said that the cssic vibe and comfortable feel made the shop more memorable, and encouraged visiting families to spend more time (and order more coffee and snacks) than they otherwise would. Regardless of rationale, Tracy loved the space; sometimes after his shift ended he would hang around and chat or py cards with locals coming by on their lunch breaks. It was part of why he never looked for another job. Joe paid him fairly well, but he could probably find a better job if he tried, even with his general ck of skills and higher education. The one thing no one else could offer was the joy Tracy took in his work; helping townsfolk start their days, greeting visitors and hearing about their trips, and chatting with regurs all made Tracy feel like he mattered, like he was part of the community.
He started some of the machines on his way to the break-room to leave his coat. He wasn’t technically on the clock yet, but he wanted to make himself a drink before his shift started. Even if he was used to it, waking up so early for the opening shift left him a bit sluggish. Back behind the counter he got started on his drink, a peppermint mocha frappe. Joe used to make fun of him for it, but after six years it was clear that getting Tracy to appreciate bck coffee was a lost cause.
Tracy had about ten minutes left to enjoy his frappe before he’d be busy opening up and then making coffee for what felt like half the town, so he sat down. His thoughts began to turn into reminiscing.
He was happy, generally, and didn’t have any real regrets, despite the turns his life had taken. He and his BFF, Jack, had gone off to college together, her for criminal justice, him for theater. They had both loved it there, even if Jack was more interested in chasing skirts than school. Between making time to hang out with him and her various girlfriends (who Tracy had made a promise to himself to not get jealous of back in high school, a promise he sometimes even managed to keep) Tracy had wondered how Jack made the time for school. It turned out she didn’t, and she was put on academic probation after only one semester. He heard she got her act together after that, but he hadn’t gotten to see it. His mother had gotten cancer in her right tibia, and she and his father needed his college fund to pay for treatment. He went home, got a job at Schmoe’s Joe, and worked to help save his mother’s life.
He didn’t regret it, how could he? But he sometimes wondered about what might have been. Sometimes wondered if he would have found what he was looking for in college, the little missing piece that sometimes kept him up at night. The thing that ate away at him when he dated, that told him he was lying to the poor girl about something, and that she would leave heartbroken and hating him when she found out… whatever it was. That was the worst part, the ignorance, the fact that he didn’t understand what he was even afraid of. He felt it to lesser extents in other situations too. It was another reason he loved the coffee shop. The sense of community and appreciation made that part of him go quiet.
He looked up at the clock right as the minute ticked over to 4:40. Drat, he thought, he was te. He’d have to rush to rush to open in time. The rest of his morning was a blur.
***
Tracy’s shift ended at 12:30 in the afternoon, by which point his mood had been fully restored by chats with customers and coworkers. Still, he didn’t particurly feel like lingering and he wanted to get some of he and Eine’s Christmas decorating done, so he made himself another frappe (which Joe refused to let him pay for) and set off for home.
He was just stepping into his car when his phone started randomly pying a song. It was the chorus of Lithium by Nirvana, his old best friend Jack’s favorite song, but why was his phone pying it, and why just the chorus. He betedly realized that it was his ringtone for her, and rushed to answer, barely believing it. They hadn’t spoken in almost two years! He hoped she was alright. They lost touch right around when she’d started a new retionship, and while he had been hurt then, time had left the pain forgotten, and a decade of memories of friendship had taken back the center stage of his mind.
When he did push the little green button it sounded like she was in a car. “Hi Jack! What’s up? How are you doing? Are you and uhhhhhh Kacey still getting along?” He said, trying and failing to hide his excitement to speak with her again.
He wasn’t expecting her to sound just as excited when she answered, but there was an almost giddy quality to her voice as she replied, “Well, work is bringing me back home for a week or so, and at this time of year all the hotels are going to packed full of sweaty tourists. So I wanted to ask if I could stay with you for a few days. Kacey and I aren’t together anymore so you don’t have to worry…” She trailed off with an uncharacteristic giggle that brought out one of his own. He wasn’t quite sure where she was going with that, but was too eted at the news to ask questions. It was a dark kind of excitement though. He hated how he felt hearing about Jack’s retionships; it was his worst trait, the way he got jealous of the girls, and it made him feel like a homophobe and a misogynist. He and Jack had only dated for a few months in high school, for goodness sake! It's not as if she owed him any commitment for that, regardless of the fact that she was gay and he was… y’know… he was… well… a man.
“Of course you can stay over!” He said, “I’ll pull out the couch for you to sleep on and take a couple days off so we can catch up, well, if you have time with work and stuff that is” he said with a slight wince. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it. He couldn’t wait to see her, but worried that she might have picked up how he sounded when she mentioned her break-up. He really didn’t want to ruin his chance to catch up after so long.
“That would be great! Thanks so much for–” She was interrupted by a police siren. “God fucking damnit!” She shouted, causing Tracy to wince, “A cop saw me on my phone. I’ll be there in about four hours.” She quieted for a moment, though Tracy could still hear the police siren. “I really missed you Tracy, bye.” The phone beeped out the call end sound.
Tears started to pool in Tracy’s eyes. He was going to get to see his best friend again. The one person in his whole life he never felt like he was lying to. The one person he could truly, deeply, be himself around was coming to town.
He was nervous too, of course, about seeing her after so long. But if there’s one thing Tracy knew in his whole life, it’s that he trusted Jack with all his heart.
