Trumpet Christmas

Snow fell softly outside the windows, a warm glow from the sinking evening light as the sun wandered slowly down on Christmas eve. Johnny was the last person working the diner. His dad had opened the place over twenty years ago, and had sent home all the other employees to spend Christmas with their families because he actually cared about them. Johnny's mother had had passed away a few years after Johnny had started going to school. He had come home one day to find his dad sitting at the kitchen table with his head between his hands, a bottle between his lips, and an empty space between his ribs where his heart used to be.

Johnny sauntered over to the window and flipped a switch that lit a neon "OPEN" sign, watching it flicker a few times, then beam its bright neon declaration into the descending darkness. Johnny walked back behind the counter and poured himself another cup of coffee, and the top half of a nip of peppermint schnapps. The nice thing about this job is that he could always drink as much coffee as he wanted, so long as his dad didn't catch him, which he rarely did, on account of hardly being able to be bothered to work anymore these days. He mostly sat at home and paid the bills for the diner, cut the checks for the employees, watched TV, and drank. Johnny took a long pull of his coffee and wondered why they celebrated Christmas at all, since they didn't believe in Jesus. He thought for a bit, then started on wondering why he also celebrated valentine's day since he knew no one loved him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the bell tied to the door, and in walked an old man. He was rather stout, broad of hip and shoulder, and had a great big white beard that blended into the cascade of white hair from the peripheries of his balding head. Johnny figured that he just got off a shift working as a mall Santa, but decided not to ask. People can be touchy about this kind of thing.

"What can I get for you?" Johnny asked.

"Coffee, and steak and eggs." The man replied. Johnny figured he'd seen the BREAKFAST ALL DAY sign posted outside.

Johnny poured out a cup of coffee and put it on the bar counter. "Sure thing, set yourself down anywhere you'd like. I'll be a minute."

A few minutes later, Johnny emerged from the kitchen with a heaping plate of eggs and a few thin strips of cheap steak that had been seared up on the same girdle. He slid it in front of the man and wandered down the counter a few steps. He figured if the man looked to be wanting to eat alone, he'd just wander out around the register, but if he wanted to talk he'd be close enough to hear. The man picked up the salt and pepper and seasoned the eggs. Johnny watched as black flakes drifted through the air and came to a rest on a bed of fluffy yellow unborn chicken.

The man looked up and said "I'm a mall Santa".

Johnny hoped it wasn't because he was caught staring. "I was wondering about that."

"Everyone always is." The man replied.

"Why aren't you working tonight?" Johnny asked. It seemed to him this ought to be his busiest night.

"Because I'm Santa". The man replied.

"Well I know that. But shouldn't you be making some last minute orders on Christmas Eve?" Johnny asked.

"No, I'm him. I'm the real Santa" Santa said.

"Oh. I see." Johnny said. He didn't see. But he figured he'd drop it. Plenty of weird folk wash through this diner. It's best to just leave them be.

"I never stopped at your house because your father asked me not to" said Santa.

"And why did he do that?" Johnny asked.

"Because he didn't think anything was good enough for you" said Santa. 

"That's some bullshit" Johnny muttered.

"He didn't think there was anything good enough for you after your mother died" said Santa.

Johnny straightened up. he felt a little sweat appear in his shirt. He didn't know what to say. 

"She was the best thing that happened to him, and you were the best thing that happened to her" Santa continued. "When she died, he was afraid that if you came to love anything like you loved her, you'd see how broken everything is."

"That's a shit reason for Christmas to not come at all" Johnny spat.

"It came once, remember?" said Santa, not really asking. "In the 6th grade."

"I remember. I got a trumpet" said Johnny.

"Yeah. What happened to it?" Santa asked.

"I stopped playing in high school. They were going to make us march and I figured if I was going to stand out in the sun all day and get yelled at I might as well get paid for it." said Johnny.

"You were pretty good" said Santa.

"I was pretty good for an 8th grader" Johnny corrected.

"Your father was pretty proud of you. I know he never said anything. Hell, he never even came to your concerts, but he heard you practicing."

"So how did he figure the trumpet was good enough for me?" Johnny demanded.

"Remember when your mom used to sing?" Santa asked.

"Yeah" said Johnny, below his breath

"That used to be one of his favorite things about her. He'd stay up all night listening to her sing you to sleep." said Santa

"So what, he wanted me to take her place? Isn't that some sort of fucked up" Johnny muttered.

"No, he saw that you were a quiet kid, just shutting yourself up all the time. He knew how much you loved your mama and wanted you to have a voice to speak with that he knew he could understand" said Santa.

By now the plate and coffee were cold, and Johnny and Santa stared at each other in the diner. Johnny knew now why his dad acted the way he did when he told him he was quitting the band, and that he was disappointed in himself, not in Johnny. Santa stuffed a forkful of lukewarm eggs into his mouth and chewed slowly. He took a sip of coffee and swallowed it all together. 

Johnny thought of the trumpet now, sitting in a battered case in the corner of his room, collecting dust. "Is it too late? Is it too late to still learn to really play?" He asked.

"No. It's never too late" said Santa.

"Is it too late for him to want to listen?" Johnny asked.

Santa paused for a moment.

"No, it's never too late for that either" said Santa. 

Santa scooped the last of the steak and eggs into his mouth, stood up, and put his coat on. He reached into his pocket and put a twenty dollar bill onto the counter, then turned around and walked out the door. 

Johnny stood there at the counter, watching the snow drift in big, fat flakes that danced wordlessly in the navy blue night. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, wanting to think on everything but not knowing where to start. His thoughts were interrupted by the bell on the door ringing its bright, brassy announcement. He looked up and his father stood in the doorway. They stared at each other, and Johnny saw that his father's eyes were bloodshot. He'd been drinking. And from the keys in his hand, he'd been driving. His father walked over to the "OPEN" sign and turned it off. Johnny understood. he grabbed is coat and followed his father out the door, taking the keys from his hand. He opened the passenger side door of the car, and shut it behind his father. As he walked back to lock the door of the diner, he caught his reflection in the glass of the window, and saw the snow falling in the light of the moon. As the latch of the lock threw, the bell on the door jingled a little, and Johnny knew that this would be a Christmas unlike one he'd had in a very, very long time.