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The Christmas Gift
Fiction
By Ryan B.
eBook: Yes
Dedicated to my wife, without whom I wouldn't have a reason to write!
The television was awash with pictures of snowy forests,
gaily lit houses, roaring fire places, and everything else that could possibly
turn Thomas’ stomach. He was certain that if he bothered to watch it any
further he might see a happy family unwrapping presents between the various
television advertisements for department stores and specialty shops.
“You want
another?” Christy asked from across the bar. She was leaning against the liquor
shelf with a cigarette in her mouth, watching the rain blat away against the
painted windows of her corner bar.
“Yeah, why the
hell not?” Thomas answered, as he leaned back on his stool and fished in his
jacket pocket for his own pack of smokes.
“I warned you once
already tonight, Thom,” Christy chided sternly from behind the taps as she
pulled a fresh mug of light beer for him. “You ain’t allowed to swear in here
any more than I am, dammit.” She grinned as she slid the octagonal mug across
the bar mat to him, and grabbed a foil packet of peanuts from behind the bar.
“I didn’t order
that crap,” Thomas groused as he watched her open the package of Beer Nuts and
dump it into a shallow bowl.
“Merry Christmas
from one schlub to another,” Christy offered as she shoved the plastic
container to her friend.
“Now you’ve
wounded me!” Thomas exclaimed with false modesty. He was unrepentant about
accepting her gift, though, and crammed a handful of peanuts into his mouth
before raising his glass in a mock toast. “To Jesus! May he envy that which you
charge me a buck for!”
“Hear, hear!”
bellowed a voice from the doorway. The reply caught Thomas off his guard, and
he nearly spilled his mug in his lap before he recovered and turned to face the
intrusion on his quiet night nearly alone.
“Eddy!” Christy
exclaimed with genuine surprise, her matted, greying hair bouncing as she
whipped her head towards the newcomer. “I thought you was gonna be in Cali with
your wife?”
“I was,” the
grizzled man in threadbare denim and leather answered as he leaned over the
elbow of the bar and delt a soft kiss to the bartender’s cheek. “Problem is,
they ain’t my family and I’ve been disinvited. Pretty sure there’s a divorce in
the works.” He sat down, his soggy boots squishing as he planted his feet on
the rails down below.
“What for?” Thomas
asked, glad of the diversion from the achingly sappy Christmas special on the
television. The bar was devoid of customers, save himself and his off-and-on
drinking pal.
“She says I drink
too much,” Eddy replied as he received his customary boiler maker and an extra
shot. Looking up from under his driving cap, he grimaced. “I didn’t ask for
this, Christy.”
“T’is the Season,”
she offered, as she stubbed her ultra-light cigarette in the ash tray she and
Thomas had been sharing. “Sorry for your loss, bud.”
“No matter,” Eddy
said, slapping a pair of worn bank notes down on the battered wood of the bar.
“Tommy here-“
“Don’t call me
that!” Thomas replied, as per their ritual.
“Tommy here,” Eddy
resumed without missing a beat, “He and I are gonna have a few drinks and keep
you in business, and for once, you’re going to join us. Call it a real
Christmas present.”
Christy stared at
the pair of ten dollar bills on her counter, and then shrugged before fishing
her pack of cigarettes out of her stained apron. Both men watched her
apprehensively; they had seen her eject life-long patrons for less, and Thomas
suspected that Eddy was just as unhappy with the idea of having to leave the
warm bar as he was.
“Oh, what the
hell,” Christy said, as she grabbed a mug from the hidden shelves below the bar
and went to the taps. “Call it a present to a dear friend.”
Really enjoyed the pictures your words painted!
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