“No,” she says from the doorway.“You punch mirrors.”
Trina has a whole bag of tricks.Hurtful reminders are her weapons.“Only when I catch my wife in bed with Santa...On Christmas.”
“How long you gonna sulk on that.Poor Humbug.Get over it.Come home.After all the women you were with… You can’t forgive me?I was drunk.The office Christmas party’s to blame.Just like you blaming the parties here at the clubhouse all those times.”
“Before.All the women I was with was before you became my Ol’ Lady.”
“I’m still your Ol’ Lady, Jack.You were never home at Christmas...I was lonely.”
“You knew I hated Christmas.I’m fucking, Humbug, for God’s sake… Shouldn’t be an excuse for my Ol’ Lady to turn whore.You’ve made me nothin’ but a joke in this club.”
She crosses her arms.“So, it’s about them.It’s always about your brothers.”
“No, look, I’m not doing this today.Fucking leave, Trina, before I throw your ass out.”
The door swings shut, and the silence after feels final.I stare at my reflection in the chromed primary cover.I’m the one asking for a divorce.The word tastes like copper.A mouth full of blood.I should feel relief.But I feel flayed.
I put my head down and find something broken I can fix that isn’t me.
In the afternoon, I’m back at the clubhouse, and it’s just coming to life around me.The coffee pot chirping, someone cussing about a dead battery, the jukebox hiccupping awake to a Waylon song.
All the losers who aren’t home on Christmas turn their heads when I walk in.I ignore them, pour black coffee, kill it, pour another.
Although, I know she’s gone, I check my room anyway.If Carol hadn’t split, Trina would’ve dragged the girl to me by her peppermint scented hair.
Rednose sidles up, big grin, bad timing.“So, hero,” he says, bumping my shoulder like we’re friends.“That little bartender as pretty up close as she is from the security footage?”
I turn my head slow.“What footage?”
He blinks.“Sheriff’s got some.Posted it.”He winks.“Big eyes, pouty lips.Makes a man wanna unzip…”
“Stop talking,” I growl.
Rednose laughs until he realizes I’m not.He lifts both hands.“Easy, brother.Respect.”
“Then show some.”I set the mug down, too hard.Coffee trembles like a threat.“You go near that bar, you keep your hands to yourself.”
Frost’s at the far table, watching.Brother always has my back.
“Everyone’s sayin’ she clocked a brother with an ashtray,” Rednose adds.“Feisty.Bet she puts up a good fight.”
I move before I think.Not far.Just a step that steals his thunder.“One more word about her, and I’ll help you remember how to chew.”
He swallows, some of the stupid leaving his face.“Copy.”He backs away, palms up, grin gone.The room exhales.Frost meets my eye and the corner of his mouth twitches, not a smile.Approval.Warning.
I'm not sticking around to be the main attraction.
I take my coffee to the side door, the one that opens to a narrow strip of world, chain-link fence, snowdrifts, trees bowed under white.
My bike waits under a tarp like a promise I ain’t sure I can keep.I need air.Motion.Noise I own.I pull my cut over the flannel, slip my arms in my jacket, snap the collar up.
Tarp off, leg over, I hit the starter button.The engine bucks to life with that first angry thunder that shakes everything back into place.I roll out past the guard shack.The kid on watch gives a salute.I pretend not to see it.
Evervale is a postcard someone dropped in the gutter.Lights still twinkle, snow still glows, but it is melting fast.Tracks are messy.Magic smudged.
Real Christmas means the doors are locked and the elves that run this town have the day off.
I idle down Main, past the square where the spruce is all dressed up.A mother drags a kid in a red snowsuit across the crosswalk.He points at my bike like I’m a parade float and waves.
