Thanksgiving wasn’t as difficult as Cat thought it might be. With a day focused on gratitude, it was hard to stay in a sour mood for long. All she had to do was look at the group text from her family, where they took turns exchanging things they were thankful for.
That my babies are alive and healthy.
That my beautiful wife gave me two, wonderful children.
That my sister murdered a turtle to stay alive. What a little bastard, phrasing it that way!
Gabe should be thankful that he’s 600 miles away or I’d smack him in the back of the head, Cat wrote back.
Catherine should be thankful she is an adult so her mother can’t ground her.
I’m thankful I muted the family group chat so I can actually get some housework done. At least her dad was consistent.
Though working at the crack of dawn, alone, in a silent and nearly empty coffee shop certainly tried her patience. If she heard, “Oooh, you have to work on Thanksgiving? Oh, that sucks!” by a customer that was buying coffee on Thanksgiving, she was going to lose it.
Eight AM rolled around. She knew that every Monday, Peter got coffee at eight AM, but she didn’t know if it was an every weekday thing. When he showed up in regular jeans and a tee, she almost dropped the rag she was holding. He gave her a toothless smile as he approached.
“You’re the only one in?” he asked while she grabbed for his normal cup. Cat nodded.
“I’m not even a manager and they let me open and close by myself.” She didn’t bother writing his order on the cup, just went to the coffee machine to start grinding. Before she pulled the lever she said, “I’d feel honored if it wasn’t because everyone else was got to go home.” After a minute of the awful crashing sound of the machine grinding the coffee into bits and spitting it into a cup, she set it on the counter and handed Peter a lid. He had cash in his hand, but she found herself shaking her head.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. Peter raised a brow, hesitating.
“You don’t want me to pay?”
“I haven’t made anyone pay,” she lied. “If they wanted this place to at least break even on a holiday, they shouldn’t have staffed me.” As Peter laughed, she silently scolded herself--at first, for lying for no reason, and secondly for not thinking of doing this sooner. Forcing the store to go in the negative would incentivise the company to close for the holidays.
“You could get fired,” he warned with a crooked smile. She could tell it was genuine, not just from a sparkle in his eye but from his dimples. His hand slid to his back pocket to put his cash away, and she shrugged.
“Are you gunna narc on me?”
“No.”
“Do you see any cameras in here?”
“Hmmm…. No, I guess there aren’t.” Peter’s smile widened. Laugh lines formed on the sides of his eyes.
“Then you get free coffee and I get to be petty.”
“That is your default setting….” He took a sip from his coffee without blowing on it, and she waved at him to leave, rolling her eyes.
“Pft. Leave before I change my mind.”
“If you wanted to be extra non-compliant, you’d just take the money and pocket it,” he said without moving. Cat made a face.
“It’s Thanksgiving. The point is to give free coffee, not get arrested for embezzling.”
Peter considered things for a moment, shrugging. “I thought the point was to deliver deadly disease and displace hundreds of thousands of indigeonous--”
“Oh my God, I didn’t sign up for a repeat of high school history,” she said through a groan. “No need to main-splain, Squant-a-wannabe.” Peter gave her a dry laugh.
“Whatever. And you called me privileged.” He looked like he was about to turn around, but Cat hadn’t given her final word yet.
“You are.” She didn’t explain herself, but watched the coffee cup in Peter’s hand contract a little bit. Peter’s dimples were long gone when he sighed.
“Seriously?” His tone made her heart skip a beat. Was this it? Was this the one comment to get him to switch back to normal?
“What?” she asked. Peter didn’t look at her.
“I thought--I thought we were past that.”
“Past what?” The arguing? But that was what they did….
“You just being so judgmental--you know me.” He wasn’t angry enough. He sounded--disappointed, almost. That wasn’t what she was going for. Cat grabbed a rag from the other side of the counter and began to fold it very carefully, shrugging without looking at him.
“You can have a shitty life and still have privilege.” Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to talk about. This wasn’t going to get the reaction she wanted...but it was too late.
“No, Cat,” he said, emphasizing her name, “you weren’t actually talking about that. What you’re doing is erasing my culture and ignoring my experiences. You can’t claim ignorance to that anymore.” Erasing his culture? Ignoring his experiences? Cat looked up to him now, her face twisted in exasperation. He set his cup on the counter and leaned against the granite, braced to try and beat her in this argument. She glared.
“I literally just acknowledged your experiences,” she spat. “The outside world doesn’t know what you’re going through. They just see a white guy with designer jeans, also known as a Poor People Costume. Are you going to tell me your entire family worked doubles for a full year to pay for this semester’s tuition?”
“You’re just going to glaze right past the fact that you called my clothes a costume.” His arms were crossed, now; she was meant to stop there, to stop on the bit that he focused on, but she shook her head.
“You’re talking about different things. I’m talking about the fact that you’re privileged, you’re complaining that I’m not addressing your shit life.”
“But the thing is….” She watched one of his hands turn to a fist. “You’re sitting there acting like you get to see me that way, like a stranger, but you don’t get to. You aren’t some outside person that gets to pass sweeping judgments about me anymore--”
“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t--”
“You’re actively ignoring--okay, this is what I don’t get--” Peter fidgeted, agitated, as he held up his hand to make a point. “Why would you hide everything--everything about me from our friends when I just asked you not to tell anyone--and, by the way, I’m fairly certain I was just talking about the antidepressants--”
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“And I didn’t tell anyone!” she added.
“But when it comes to just you, you get to make the snap decision to just pretend you don’t know everything?”
“Isn’t that what you’d prefer?” Cat snapped. “That I didn’t coddle you just because you’ve had a rough year? You’re not some damsel in the woods needing protecting.”
“There’s a difference between coddling, respecting someone’s privacy, and just erasing their identity so you can be a--” Cat raised a brow at him, wondering for a split second if he was going to say what she thought, but after a moment’s hesitation, Peter’s chosen words were: “a horrible person.” She’d almost prefer he’d just called her a bitch.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she snapped, eyes wide. This seemed to frustrate him most, of anything she said. His cheeks were red, now, and he gestured like she said something incredibly stupid.
“How about you act like a decent person? Or a normal person, for that matter! The fact is you’re not a stranger, and you should at least be a slightly better friend than you are--”
“We’re not friends,” she spat quickly, maybe too fast. The words tasted like vomit, but clamping her mouth shut didn’t stop them from pouring out. It shocked Peter into silence, his lips still parted to finish the thought that long flew out of his mind. A full second passed by before he seemed to register what she said; and in that second, he managed to straighten his shoulders back, drop his arms to his side, and suck in a breath.
“Fine. Whatever.” The way those words hit her was unlike any other. There was something final about it; something harsh and that felt way too similar to when she’d gotten caught sneaking out of the house as a teenager, like she was doing something she’d later regret. She watched him swallow thickly, like he took a drink of molasses. “Fine. Forget this conversation ever happened.” He looked like he had so much more to say, but he waved his hand dismissively and twisted around, empty-handed. He was nearly halfway to the door when Cat said, “Your coffee--”
Peter looked over his shoulder, but continued his leave. “Free coffee is for friends. And we’re not friends, so I know exactly what that is--and I’m not interested in your charity.”
It took a long while of Cat standing at the counter, alone, watching the steam dissipate from Peter’s coffee before she could bring herself to move again. She white-knuckled the dirty rag, still tried to stop herself from speaking to Peter from an hour ago, but no matter how many times she replayed the conversation, she said what she did.
He was just bothered she knew as much as she did, she finally told herself. He was mad that she knew details he only wanted his friends to know about--and she wasn’t his friend. Because friends didn’t...enjoy arguing with each other. Or literally only ever spend time together due to someone else forcing them to. And that was the only reason they saw each other outside of class and work, because Cam and Kelsey and Hannah wanted to be around both of them. That’s all. Peter was just trying to convince himself there was anything more to it. Two people could spend a lot of time together without being friends.
As Cat dumped his coffee in the sink, her hands shook. That’s what this was, she convinced herself. Peter was mad--about the coffee. That’s what started this whole thing. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut. Why did she lie in the first place? She hadn’t been giving out free coffee at all, and yet she just felt the urge to let him walk out with it--
It wasn’t charity, Cat thought bitterly as she returned to cleaning the grinder. If giving him free coffee was charity, then that made her a hypocrite for getting upset when he offered to pay for her Health Center copay when she couldn’t afford it--but they weren’t friends. She, apparently, just made that abundantly clear. But she didn’t just have the urge to give him free coffee out of pity for his dead bio-dad and awful step-dad….
Cat finished her shift with minimal conversation with anyone, leaving her to stew alone in her thoughts for far too long. Eventually, it was settled: dirty dreams, forced time together be damned. She wasn’t friends with Peter because he was just impossible to get along with; she obviously felt subconsciously bad for his Thanksgiving situation. She was a hypocrite. And something about that thought, as awful as it made her feel, offered the tiniest bit of relief.
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Video-chatting her family while they ate their usual traditional dinner at four PM was really quite nice. She got to see some cousins, a few neighbors and their families as her brother passed around the phone. Just like normal, she didn’t get to talk to any one person too much, just endured surface conversation and answered, “How’s school going?” and “What do you want to do when you graduate?” too many times. But when it came down to close the conversation, Cat found herself grasping at straws to come up with reasons to stay on the phone.
“Any time off work, Dad?” she asked again.
“No rest for the wicked, sweetie,” he answered briefly, glancing at the camera for just a moment to answer. “Looks like people are gearing up to head out. You okay? You seem….” His attention was split, but he kept trying to return to facing the phone.
“I, what? Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” she stammered as she slapped on a false smile. “Lots to do. Lots of...homework and stuff. Studying. Oh, and laundry.” Though her laundry was fine.
“Alright, kidd-o. We’ll let you go, then.” As her dad held out his hand to pan the camera to the people behind him, Cat gave a little wave to the extended family and friends she only ever saw once or twice a year. Up until this time, she’d never really been all that excited to see anyone. It was just part of a routine and she never quite missed anyone unless they didn’t show. But this time, as her father panned around the dozen or so guests in her home, her heart sank a bit.
“Hope I get to see you guys soon,” she called a little louder. She couldn’t make out what any one person was saying, but she assumed they all gave some form of agreement or well wishes that distant family and friends always did when it was time to say goodbye.
As the screen of her phone faded to black, Cat frowned at herself in the reflection of her phone. Now that everything was quiet, she found herself slumping into the back of her desk chair, wondering what on Earth she should do next. Something to keep her occupied, maybe. Something productive. Or maybe find a way to start a tradition for herself...? No, that just sounded pathetic. It wasn’t like she had someone to celebrate with, like a Friendsgiv….
Before her own thoughts could finish, Cat sighed and pulled out her agenda from her messenger bag to flip through it. The professors weren’t all that demonic this year, didn’t assign all that much work to be done during the break. She could do some reading, could do some practice problems for her math test....
Her phone blipped. PumpkinKing has created a thread! her phone read. Smiling to herself, she decided that talking to him would be a much better alternative than getting any work done. He was always a great distraction: a great conversationalist, realistic and witty. He was more like a friend than--
Cat clicked on her notification to see what he said.
Excuses to avoid people during the holidays? was his prompt.
Cat immediately began to type: Syphilis and pressed SEND.
PumpkinKing replied quickly with, Syphilitic Insanity.
Someone broke the beginning of their chain by submitting an actually viable idea of pretending to be sick and applying blush to your eyelids so you look like you have pink eye, an idea Cat had to store for later. Instead of replying, she decided to message Pumpkin,
Looking for an excuse to avoid people? she asked.
No, normally I’m pretty good at that. Just bored. Do you have Syphilis? She awarded him with a laughing reaction.
No STIs here. The insanity part, though....
I already had that part figured out. Oooh! Cat giggled and glanced around her room, almost instinctively. Hannah wasn’t there, wasn’t going to sit there and taunt her for laughing at some faceless guy on the Internet. She could laugh and respond as much as she wanted without fear of being judged, or the fear of someone reading over her shoulder.
Cat hopped out of her desk chair and onto her bed, deciding to get comfortable for this. He was responding quickly, so maybe his family was done celebrating and he was looking to fill the time, too. They hadn’t had a good, lengthy conversation in a while; in a way, it made her wonder if he was losing interest. But it took almost no time for them to return to their usual banter, this time themed around how to make the colonizers pay for what they did to all of the indigenous people they murdered.
It was almost an hour of consistent replies before Cat’s phone alarm went off. Eight PM. She should get a nap in before she had to open for Black Friday.
I’ve got to get a nap in before I open for work, she typed regrettably. But if you plan on being awake late, I doubt I’ll actually have any customers.
I’ll be celebrating Black Friday by staring at the back of my eyelids, actually. Shame you have to go so soon...but message me when you’re off work, maybe?
Cat’s heart slammed hard against her chest. She gave him a thumbs-up emoji, grinning stupidly to herself as she clutched her phone. Maybe it was just because she was by herself, or maybe because she’d been kind of lonely for a while--but the more she spoke to Pumpkin (or, rather, typed), the more her stomach twisted in knots whenever she got a notification about him. But as fun as it was, she thought as she lay down on her bed and plugged in her phone, she doubted it would go any further. The Internet was full of random, crazy people.... Not crazy, she thought to herself, laughing, people with Syphilitic Insanity.
The rest of the weekend, including her Black Friday shift, was immensely forgettable. The only notable thing was that come eight AM, Peter didn’t show up like she thought he might, and she couldn’t figure out if it was because it was a Friday or because he knew she was working and didn’t want to deal with her. In her mind, this was just another reason that supported that they weren’t friends. If one argument pissed him off that much, they never had a chance.