The Seven Days of Christmas

1

The first day

“They outdid themselves!”

Trey frowned, keeping his attention on the book he was reading while doing his best to ignore whoever was babbling. It was Thursday evening, a week before Christmas, and he was trying to unwind at his local bar before going home.

“I mean look at all this. The wreath and fairy lights on the back bar mirror, the decorations, the snowflakes hanging everywhere, hell, there’s even Christmas candles on the tables.” The woman swept her hand around, almost hitting Trey. “Sorry,” she said, “but you gotta admit they did a great job. You can feel the Christmas spirit.”

“You’re definitely feeling the spirits, but I’ve got the feeling they come from a gin bottle,” Trey grumbled, turning his back to her after getting a whiff of her boozy breath.

“I’m just trying to be friendly.” She reached around him to tap his book. “Is this good?”

“I wouldn’t be reading it if it wasn’t.” He closed it, using one finger to mark his place, picked up his beer, and moved down to the end of the bar.

“What’s with him?” she asked, loudly enough to be heard from where Trey had found a new seat. “I was just trying—”

“To be friendly,” the woman next to her said, laughing. “Guess he’s not in a Christmas mood.”

“No shit,” Trey muttered under his breath.

“Not your thing?”

Trey sighed, looking up to see Marty, the bartender. “Nope, not really. Especially today.”

“Oh boy, what happened?”

“You do not want to know.”

Marty chuckled. “But you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Nan, she’s my assistant at the shop, got a call this morning.” Trey shook his head, continuing bleakly, “Her father had a massive heart attack. He…her parents live on the other side of the state. Of course I told her to get out there to be with him.”

“Damn. I mean, okay, that has to suck for her, especially with Christmas right around the corner.”

“Yeah. She flew out late this afternoon, leaving me high-and-dry except for Carol, the temp I hired for the holiday. Any other time I wouldn’t care but it’s right in the middle of our second busiest season. How the hell am I going to deal with all the customers waiting until the last minute, hoping to get Santa costumes—which have been rented for weeks now—to say the least of elves, and carolers, and fuck all? Maybe I’ll close the shop and take off for somewhere where they don’t know what the hell Christmas is.”

“Which would be where?” Marty asked, then said, “Hold that thought,” before moving down the bar to see to a man who had waved to get his attention.

“I wish I knew.” Trey sighed, taking a long pull on his beer. “Whoever invented Christmas should be shot.”

“I loveChristmas,” the woman who had accosted him said, squeezing in between Trey and the man seated next to him.

“You’re back,” Trey said scathingly. “Go bother someone else. You’re not my flavor du jour.”

“Huh?”

“Du jour. Of the day, or in my case, ever.”

“But…”

The woman’s friend appeared beside her, saying, “He means he’s into men, Pattie, so give it up.”

“Well, he could have said so to start with.” Pattie gulped down the last of her drink then held up her glass, waving it at Marty, who was now waiting on another customer.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Pattie’s friend said.

“But…”

“Her word du jour?” Trey asked, smirking.

Neither woman replied as Pattie’s friend took her arm, steering her toward the exit.

“Looks like you girlfriend took off without you,” Marty said when he returned, grinning at the disgusted look Trey gave him. “You want another one?” He pointed to Trey’s empty bottle.

“Naw. I should leave, too, before all this glitz and glitter gives me a stomach ache.”

“You’re a grump, or should that be a Grinch?”

“Both?” Trey replied, bookmarking his page before closing the book and getting up. “I’ll see you…hell, who knows when. First I have to survive the next week without strangling some middle-aged Santa and his gold-digging, elf wannabe girlfriend.”

Marty laughed. “Breathe deeply, smile, and remember what you make on rentals pays the bills for the next three months.”

“The only reason I’m willing to tolerate the damned season,” Trey replied, waving over his shoulder as he headed to the exit.

He knew he wasn’t upset with Nan, per se. She could hardly ignore the fact her father might be dying. It was having to handle things without her able assistance that was exacerbating his dislike of the season.