{"sf1_id":796627,"sf2_id":"J1Oo0GX1","title":"Christmas at Joe's","author":"Chipotle","words":1382,"posted_at":"2014-12-17T06:21:00.000Z","tags":["Canine","Christmas","Collie","Multiple Species","Short Story"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/796627-christmas-at-joe-s","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/J1Oo0GX1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/0e/54/0e5467a8-8ab8-49b5-a66c-07f1a08f3672","description":"Jean the collie has worked at Joe's Diner for years, but this Christmas Eve is going to be the last -- Joe's is closing on New Year's Eve. Unless a miracle happens.\n(A vignette written a few years ago. While it's not religious, a no-prize to anyone who figures out why Jean is a collie.)","content":"The bell on the diner's door jangled, stilled, jangled again spasmodically as a blast of cool air came in from the mostly-empty city street outside. \"Hi, Frank,\" Jean said. She hadn't looked up from the counter, cleaning rag still in hand; she just knew it'd be him, somehow. She could do that with all the regulars.\n\nHe could have looked worse, but he was an hour and three coffees away from looking sober. As he fumbled his way past the door, the tiger waved grandly. \"Merry Christmas!\" He managed a credibly straight line to a seat at the counter right in front of the collie; she was setting down a full cup of coffee-one sugar, two creams-as he thumped heavily into place.\n\n\"Merry Christmas, Frank.\" She glanced over at the clock. Eleven-thirty. \"Shouldn't you be in bed dreaming about dancing sugar plums?\"\n\n\"Feh.\" Frank reached up to straighten his collar, instead just mangling it more. She leaned forward to straighten it for him as he kept speaking. \"No Christmas bonus this year, you know. Bastards.\"\n\nShe knew. His office hadn't given him a bonus for the last eight years and she heard about it every year in late December. But he'd only been in Joe's on Christmas Eve once before, though, five years ago when Gracey and he had separated. They'd gotten back together by the next Easter. She wondered what tragedy had brought him _this_ Christmas Eve.\n\nHis brow furrowed. \"What the hell is a sugar plum, anyway?\"\n\n\"An old-fashioned candy.\"\n\n\"You're so _smart,_\" Frank said, with the dopey sincerity of a professional drinker. \"But this is the last Christmas Eve I can spend at Joe's. Gracey's pissed, but I hadda spend at least part of it here.\"\n\nOh. It wasn't his tragedy that brought him here, it was hers. She hadn't needed the reminder that Joe's was closing for good in six days. \"Thanks, Frank. I'll get you a breakfast going.\" She put in the tiger's usual order and headed over to one of the few other occupied tables with the coffee pot.\n\nNick, the wolf sitting there, straightened out of his own slouch as she approached. \"Thank you kindly.\" He'd finished his own dinner an hour ago, and a pie slice on top of that. Now he just sat with a coffee and a cigarette. This was one of the few eateries you could still smoke at, grandfathered in with some obscure legal loophole. Maybe the last one in the city. He was a jazz player, another regular; the gig he'd been expecting to be at tonight had been cancelled.\n\n\"You're always welcome,\" she said, smiling. \"Weren't you supposed to give up smoking this year?\"\n\n\"I'm working up to it.\"\n\nShe crossed her arms, looking disapproving. \"You said that last year, and the year before that.\"\n\n\"I work slow.\" He set the cigarette down on the edge of the ashtray and took a sip of the coffee. \"We know why I'm here and why Frank's here, and I bet _you_ know why....\" He turned and motioned with his cup toward an older otter woman sitting in the corner booth clipping out coupons.\n\n\"Ella,\" she said. \"With her husband dead and the kids on the other side of the country...\" The collie shrugged.\n\n\"And I bet you know everybody else's story here, too. Why they're here tonight.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Not everyone's.\"\n\n\"But most of 'em. The mystery is why are _you_ in a diner on Christmas Eve, Jean?\"\n\nShe paused, tail curling down. The question seemed absurd. \"It's what I do for a living.\"\n\n\"Sure, but you don't have to work _tonight._ You just always do. Least every time I've ended up here.\" He took a drag on the cigarette, then waved it in an arc, the tip tracing a dimly glowing line. \"Everybody else here-'cept the ones who want to see the place off, I guess-is here 'cause they got nowhere else to go. You don't seem like that kinda type.\"\n\nJean considered, looking around. The diner was far from bustling, just eight customers-two couples and four loners. She knew all of them by name. \"People with nowhere to go still end up _somewhere,_ Nick. The way I see it, somebody's got to be wherever they are, and it might as well be me.\"\n\nBlinding white light suddenly flooded the diner, overwhelming the old incandescents inside and the blue neon that normally shone through the window. Jean turned toward the plate glass windows, shielding her eyes. She thought she could make a figure out in the light walking toward the door.\n\nThe door opened, and they could hear the sound of a truck engine running. A fox stepped inside. He stood tall, over six feet, and he wore a white business suit, expertly tailored. After a moment, the truck engine and the light went off, and two more foxes stepped in, shorter but just as dapper, flanking him. It felt disturbingly like the start of a scene in a TV gangster movie that would end with them all whipping out submachine guns.\n\nInstead, though, the fox just clasped his hands in front of him. \"Happy Christmas, Jean.\"\n\nThe collie squinted, frowning. \"Do I know you?\"\n\n\"No, you don't. Not really.\" He smiled, and stepped forward. \"But you're indirect family to me-just like you've been to hundreds of people who've come through here late at night.\"\n\n\"Right,\" she said, cautiously. \"Can I get you and your friends anything?\"\n\n\"I can't be here for long. I've got a lot of places to be tonight.\"\n\nShe put a hand on her hip. \"You're not exactly what I picture when I think of Santa.\"\n\n\"No, I'd think not.\" He laughed, and the other two foxes smirked. \"But if I _could_ bring you any gift, Jean, what would it be?\"\n\n\"Can I say world peace?\"\n\n\"You can, but that's a tough one.\"\n\n\"Well. There's so much.\" She hadn't had a working car for nearly a decade. She'd never been able to afford more than a studio flat in a drafty old building. She'd never traveled. A couple times she thought she'd been in love, but she'd spent most of the eighteen years she'd worked here secretly hoping her Prince Charming would just wander into Joe's and order biscuits.\n\nSighing, the collie shook her head. \"You know what? I'd just keep Joe's open.\"\n\nHe nodded slowly, as if he'd expected that answer. \"It's been here, what is it, fifty-eight years. My father spent a lot of time here. He used to say you saved his life.\"\n\n\"_I_ saved his life.\" She wracked her brain. Did she know any older foxes who used to be regulars? Dozens, maybe. \"I appreciate the thought. I've never saved _anyone's_ life, unless you count keeping Mrs. Abernathy from swallowing a chicken bone twelve years ago.\"\n\nFrank cleared his throat. \"You've probably saved mine three times now.\"\n\nJean stared at him.\n\n\"Pies can be a bright spot,\" the tiger said, suddenly sounding self-conscious. He looked away.\n\nThe collie ran a hand through her hair.\n\n\"You mighta done that for me by some measures,\" Nick chimed in with a soft grin. \"You make this somewhere to be.\"\n\nElla the otter stood up. \"You make this place home, Jean.\"\n\nSomeone-she didn't see who-started clapping. Then everyone else joined in. Jean's ears flattened; she had no idea what to do, and she ended up looking at the coffee-stained carpet until the applause died down.\n\nThe white-suited fox leaned forward and tilted her head up gently. Before she could react, he gave her a soft kiss on the nose. \"Thank you.\"\n\nThe collie's eyes widened. She felt like she should slap him, but she didn't.\n\nThe lights and truck engine came on outside again. \"You'll see me again after New Year's,\" the fox said.\n\n\"But... Joe's will be closed then.\"\n\nHe shook his head with a slight smile. \"Have faith, Jean. I'll be back for biscuits.\" He stepped back outside.\n\nShe blinked, twice, as the lights receded.\n\nNick broke the silence by striking a match for a new cigarette. \"Well, wasn't that mysterious. Christmas angel, or Christmas fruitcake?\"\n\n\"For now, I'm going with angel,\" Jean said after a moment.\n\n\"Order up!\" the unseen cook called. She headed behind the counter to pick up Frank's plate.\n\n  \n  \n\n"}