Page 27 of Daily Grind
“We like it here,” Ev had said. “You accept us. Accept me.” Ev had, earlier in the year, shakily explained to Brian that zie was gender fluid and preferred to be calledEvand had chosen different pronouns.
“All right,” Brian had replied. “I can do that.” And he had, endearing himself to the group.
Tonight he watched them with a lump in his throat. Back when he’d been their age, he’d barely heard the wordbisexualin school. Part of him was envious of these kids; the other part said a little prayer of thanks to God for the change that allowed them to be who they were.
A little while later, Miranda came in for her shift. She inspected him as she walked past and around to the work side of the counter. “Dude, you gotta go home.”
“That bad?”
“Truthfully, you look like ass.” No malice in those words, just heaps of concern.
“I need to do the ordering,” he said. “Couldn’t concentrate hard enough earlier and keep the customers happy.” He glanced out the windows. “Though I suppose I could take it home.”
Miranda wrapped an apron around her waist and washed her hands. “Don’t. Right now, that’s the last thing you need to do.”
True. He snagged the laptop from the back and plopped down at the counter.
“Something wrong with the ordering?” she asked. “You don’t usually stress over it.”
“Eh, the prices changed. Some of the items, too. I need to figure it out.” The shop still had a decent amount in its rainy-day fund, but with the line between black and red becoming thinner and thinner, the sickening sense of dread in his gut grew every day. “I also need to write up a job posting. And post it.” And hope they got even one decent candidate.
“Yeah, you need to get someone else in here.”
“I know,” he snapped. “I’m working on it. I interviewed someone on Tuesday.”
She held up her hands. “Bri.”
God, he was doing it again. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Sorry. I’ve been a bear lately.”
Her mouth twisted into a grin before she turned away.
“What?” There was a bit of a whine in his voice, but that was better than anger.
She looked back. “You aresonot a bear.”
“What do you—” His brain caught up and he stuttered to a stop. Oh.Thatkind of bear. “I— Uh.”
She snorted. “You should see your face.”
One of the high schoolers—Dan—came up for a refill. “Just black, nothing fancy.”
Miranda took the soiled cup and poured him a fresh one while Dan eyed him. “You do know what a bear is, right?”
Miranda snickered.
Oh for crying out loud. “Of course I do. Bears have been around longer than me.” He paused. “And I’m not that old.” Even if he did picture himself shaking his fist and telling the kids to get off his lawn.
Dan didn’t flinch. “Does that mean you’re into guys?”
Goose bumps spread over his arms. “Yeah. I am. Women, too.” He shifted his gaze to the street again. “I suppose people in general.”
Dan nodded. “Cool.” He took his coffee. “She’s right, though. You’re not a bear.” He returned to his friends.
“I know I’m not a bear,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Miranda coughed something that sounded suspiciously liketwink.
He huffed and woke his laptop up. If anything, he was a fucking artist. He’d turned into a businessman along the way, but the art was still there, under that. Somewhere.
