December 2024
It's December, and this month, I have a new story to share. It's a short, easy read set during the holiday season. You can read it below or download the ebook or pdf to view on your reading device if you prefer.
It's called Oh Hole'y Night - A Christmas Story
Jessie stood behind the counter at the donut shop she had worked in for the past two years. It was December, and the place was speckled with a few dollar-store holiday decorations. The radio station was playing the same 20 classic Christmas songs on rotation and would be for the next two weeks.
The night shift was her shift, and the night people were her people. It was late for some of the regulars but too early for the bar crowd—one of the few quiet times in the night. Just a little after midnight, she looked out the window as a car pulled into the parking lot, and she wiped the worn tan laminate countertop with a wet rag as she waited for them to figure out what they were doing and come inside. It was useless to start anything new because they were right there. It wasn't a car she recognized either. It was dark; it could have been burgundy or dark blue, and maybe it was an Oldsmobile. She didn't know cars, though. Never could afford one.
She watched them pull themselves out, the parking lot light highlighting their face for a moment. She still didn't recognize them. It could be someone driving through or staying with someone at the hospital across the street. Being up late with a loved one is a good enough reason for a cup of coffee.
Jessie tightened her dark ponytail sticking out of her grey visor and put on a big, Welcome to Gerry's Donuts smile. She didn't have to say it. The smile did all the work.
"It's a late night. What can I get, cha?" She said sometimes she would give folks nicknames, but the man who walked in was not a nick-name-looking person.
He took a deep breath. A lot of people did that when they walked in. It was the smell of fresh coffee and sugar from all the donuts. Initially, it was invigorating, but it could be a bit much like drinking too much coffee over an eight-hour shift. His eyes were dark, and he looked tired. His puffy navy color coat was unzipped, and his t-shirt looked like he'd been wearing it for a couple of days.
"Medium, Cream and Sugar." He said, and Jessie scooped two perfect spoons of sugar into the bottom of the styrofoam cup, followed by two perfect presses of the cream. It was fresh because she had just cleaned the machine.
"From the fresh pot." He said, pointing toward the coffee makers.
"It's been slow, and I just made both of these fresh," Jessie said, pouring the coffee and pressing the plastic lid firmly onto the cup. Making coffee was a simple thing, but it was also easy to mess it up. Too much sugar, too much cream, or not enough of each.
"Anything else?"
"That's it." He said, and he handed her a few dollars to pay for it. "Keep the change."
Jessie gladly kept the change because this job paid the bills, but barely, and she had two boys at home, and they were growing. Change adds up.
"Thank you."
The man went and sat at the back corner table in the back of the dining room by the bathroom. Jessie wiped up the few granules of sugar she spilled, making the coffee, and the bell over the door jingled.
She looked up and saw one of her favorite customers walk through the door with a smile.
"Buzzy!" She said, giving him a real smile, not the Welcome to Gerry's Donuts smile she reserved for people she didn't know. "It's cold out. Where's your jacket."
Buzzy was a regular. Out of all of them, he really was one of her favorites. He came in around midnight almost every night. He was a small guy, old but not busted. He said he'd retired years ago and liked the company at Gerry's Donuts. She liked him too.
"This is a jacket," Buzzy said, holding the dark flannel shirt open so she could see it. "See, it's got pockets inside."
"That's a shirt, Buzz; it's like 20 degrees out there," Jessie said, pouring a small decaf coffee into the paper cup reserved for small coffees.
"I'm a warm-blooded guy; what can I say? How's the shop tonight, Jessie?" He said, standing up to the counter and waiting for his order.
Because Buzzy was a regular, Jessie knew his order, and he was a good regular and never changed his order: small black decaf coffee and glazed chocolate cruller.
"One sec, I'll get a fresh one from out back," Jessie said and slid the coffee towards him, returning seconds later with the promised fresh cruller. Those were the donuts the overnight baker was making out back for the morning crowd. Jessie took care of her regulars.
"How's the family?" he asked, taking the plastic lid off the paper cup and sliding it back toward Jessie. He never used the lid, but she had to give everyone a lid.
"The boys are good." Jessie said. "a bit rambunctious tonight, but my mom's got a good handle on em."
"I bet she does. Are they excited for Christmas?" he asked.
"They're kids, so yeah. Still trying to figure out what to get them." Jessie said. "It's a balance between that and the rent sometimes."
"You're a good Mom, Jess. You'll find the balance. This whole Christmas thing with the gifts these days. It's lost its soul."
"Ya think?"
"I remember that I would get an orange in my stocking and be happy to get it." He said. He took a small piece off the end of his cruller and popped it into his mouth. "Now it's donuts."
He winked at her, but it wasn't a creepy wink; it was an old man who let you in on a joke kind of wink. Then he took his coffee and donut over to his regular spot, waving to the man at the back of the diner before sitting down. His regular spot was a table by the front door that allowed him to see who was coming in without being in the way, and he could still have an across-the-room conversation with Jessie without yelling.
The bar crowd began stumbling in, but Jessie was ready for them. She had extra coffee brewed and a few English muffins sliced for breakfast sandwiches. The donuts on the shelves from earlier in the day would be decimated just in time for the new ones to start coming out from the back. The bar crowd didn't care if the donuts were old; they needed coffee and snacks and their visit gave them a little time not drinking to prepare them for the drive home.
Sprinkled in the bar crowd were a few regulars who all seemed to wish they had planned their arrival to avoid the crowd, but what could they do? Phil worked for the city, scraping up dead animals and trash from the side of the road. He was a big guy, and if he needed lunch in the middle of the bar rush, then he needed lunch. Phil's usual order was two sandwiches with extra bacon and a large regular. Jessie expected him to sit with Buzzy, but the man from the back of the diner had taken the empty seat at Buzzy's table, and they looked deep in conversation. Phil walked past, giving Buzzy a friendly nod, and took a seat a few tables back.
The man sitting with Buzzy had the beginnings of a smile on his face. She could not help but think about her boys when they were babies, everyone claiming their first smile was just gas. Maybe the man chatting it up with Buzzy was just a little gassy.
Phil left with a wave, and the bar crowd fell off after an hour. Jessie was ready for the break. She wiped down her coffee station, Dumped the remainder of the coffee at the bottom of the pots, and made fresh ones. The man sitting with Buzzy stood up, and he was smiling; it was a real joy-filled smile and not the gassy smile she had seen earlier. He shook Buzzy's hand and walked out the front door, a much different person than the one she had met when he came in. Buzzy was a great guy, but Jessie could not imagine what he might have said that would have that kind of impact on someone's mood.
"What was that all about?" Jessie asked as Buzzy folded a piece of paper and tucked it into the inside pocket of his dark flannel shirt. Jessie
"He was a nice guy," Buzzy said. "He just needed to be told everything was going to be ok. His wife is at the hospital, you know."
"I didn't know that, but good. Glad you made a friend. What did he give you?" She asked, pointing to where Buzzy had put the folded paper." Jessie said. She knew she was being nosy but didn't care. Gerry's at night was her domain, and she liked knowing what was going on.
"His soul, to keep it safe." He said and smiled.
"Yeah, and what did you give him," Jesse asked. Buzzy liked to joke around. It was why she liked him.
"I just told him everything was going to be ok," he said.
"And that was worth his soul?"
"I guess. You'd be surprised what some folks would give up their soul for." Buzzy said, his smile growing on his face. "You know what?"
"What?" Jesse asked.
"I bet you could get some of these people that come in here an old donut, and they would sign away their soul. I'll make you a deal. Tomorrow night, I'll buy a dozen donuts, and you can give one to any customer who signs away their soul." Buzzy said.
"Buzz, that's so stupid. No one's gonna do that," Jessie said, staring at him, waiting for the punch line for him to say he was kidding. While still smiling, the look on his face was serious, though.
"Let's try it he said. And I'll give you something for those boys of yours to buy Christmas presents." He said. "It'll be fun."
"I bet that not a single person does it. Worst case, you have a dozen donuts." Jessie said. "I'm in."
"Excellent," he said, his smile even more prominent. "Well, I better be going home for the night." he placed his half-eaten cruller on the counter with the nearly empty cup of coffee. "I'll save you a trip to clean up the table."
"Thanks, Buzz," she said, grabbing the trash; the little coffee at the bottom of the cup still seemed warm.
"See you tomorrow." He said.
"I'll be here," Jessie said. "Be safe and have a good night."
Jessie poured Buzzy's warm coffee into the sink and threw the paper cup in the trash.
The next day, Buzzy was there just after midnight and bought a dozen donuts, just as he said he would. He also brought twelve pieces of paper—one for each donut.
"You ready?" He asked, laughing a little.
"I can't believe we are doing this," Jessie said.
"You're not going to get in trouble for this, will you?" he asked.
"It's a donut shop, Buzz. I'm giving away the donuts you paid for. Anyone asks it's a customer's request." Jessie said as she wiped the counter where she would put the dozen donuts, the contracts, and one of the pens she used to write people's names on the coffee cups.
"The person that had this shift before sold drugs out back for over a year without getting fired. I think I'll be ok." She said, laughing. The bell above the front door rang, and Phil walked in.
"Phil," Jessie greeted him, "You're a little early. What can I get ya."
"My usual, dear." He said, leaning on the counter next to Buzzy. "What are you two up to?"
Jessie started slicing the English muffins to run them through the toaster for Phil's sandwiches.
"Buzzy thinks people will sign away their souls for a donut," she said.
"Like the Simpsons?" Phil asked.
"Like the what?" she asked.
"Like the Simpsons. The show, with Homer, Marge, and Bart and all that. Homer sold his soul for a donut."
"And I'm going to give her a little something to help her get stuff for her boys for Christmas," Buzzy said.
Phil laughed and slapped the counter with his big, meaty hands.
"Ha! I love it. You are a weird old man. Are these the donuts?" Phil asked.
"Yup," Jessie said, sliding his large regular coffee in the styrofoam cup over to him.
Phil already had the pen in his hand and was signing his name on the paper.
"I love a donut for a good cause." He said, putting the pen down and grabbing a chocolate frosted donut from the box. "I'm a big guy. I bet I got at least two or three souls in here."
"One per customer," Buzzy said, taking the paper with Phil's signature.
"Did you seriously just sign that?" Jessie asked. "Your damn soul for a donut."
"Now it's my Damned soul for a donut." He said, putting fifteen dollars on the counter and grabbing his sandwiches. "I'll try to get that back from Buzzy at some point."
"Never gonna happen, Phil," Buzzy said from his table by the door. "A deal's, a deal."
"Not much of a deal, though," Jessie said. "I give both of you donuts for free all the time."
It felt a little wrong that Phil was the first person to trade their soul for a donut. It was a joke when it was drunk strangers, but Phil was a regular and a nice guy. Maybe he did it for the free donut, but maybe he did it to help her and the boys.
Phil sat down with Buzzy, both of them laughing when the first of the bar crowd started stumbling in. The following eleven customers placed their orders, and each signed their name on the contract, giving away their souls for a donut. Buzzy was right; people would sell their souls for almost anything.
Buzzy sat and monitored the diner as the last of the bar crowd left, and Jessie wiped the countertops and cleaned the coffee stations.
"You were right, Buzz," Jessie said. "I couldn't sell donuts faster than that at half price."
"I bet the high cost of a soul made them taste better," Buzzy said, standing up and walking up to the counter with his empty coffee cup and the paper plate she had served his cruller on.
"Those drunks were not tasting anything," Jessie said, flipping through the eleven pages with people's names scribbled on them. "I can't believe they did that."
"I can. People are dumb." He said.
"Just drunk and hungry and making bad decisions." She said, picking up the stack of paper and evening it out on the counter.
"I'll take those," Buzzy said, reaching out.
"Not so fast, old man," Jessie said, pulling them just out of reach. "I'll trade you."
"Trade me for what?" he said, his smile leaving his face for a moment. It was not long, but Jessie noticed.
"Trade you for Phil's," She said.
"What do you want with Phil's contract?" He asked, his smile returning.
"What do you want with Phil's contract," Jessie asked.
Buzzy laughed, "You got me there."
He reached into his pocket and took out the paper he had folded, just like the one from the night before. Buzzy set it gently on the counter and slid it over to Jessie.
"Deal," He said.
"Deal," Jessie said, handing him the stack.
She picked up Phil's contract and folded it open. Phil's signature sat at the bottom, big, like his personality.
Buzzy started folding each of the contracts in half and creating a stack twice as high.
"What are you going to do with those?" Jessie asked.
"Gonna keep 'em," Buzzy said, putting the stack inside the pocket of his dark flannel shirt. "They were not going to take good care of them anyway."
Reaching into his side pocket, he produced two crisp hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the counter.
"For the boys." He said.
"Buzzy, that's too much," Jessie said, her eyes watering up. It was too much. She had never gotten a break, and this old guy who lived on social security and had a fixed budget gave her more than anyone had before. She hadn't really done anything but play along with a stupid game an old man wanted to play.
"Merry Christmas," he said, smiling.
"Merry Christmas, Buzz," Jessie said.
"See you tomorrow," he said, walking toward the door.
"See you tomorrow," Jessie said, tucking the two hundred dollars into her pocket, thinking about what she was going to buy the boys. Whatever it was, they were going to be excited.
Then Buzzy stopped and said. "Phil's contract."
"What about it?"
"You gotta burn it." He said. "it's the only way to get that back to him."
He winked and left. Jessie's eyes followed him as he walked across the parking lot and down the sidewalk toward what she assumed was his apartment. Then she went out back and borrowed the night baker's lighter. She held open the side door to the outside, lit the lighter, and phils contract burned so fast and so bright she saw spots for a few minutes after.
Copyright © 2024 by Shawn Patrick White
All rights reserved.
No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
That's for December.
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