TBC Pride Month Flash Fiction Challenge, 21 of 30

TBC Publishing Pride Month Flash Fiction Challenge, 21 of 30

Title: The Gate

Author: R. Scott Tyler

Genre: Mystery

Word count (500 max): 485

When I graduated from City College, I went into a spiraling depression. Everything was overwhelming. I was now a degree holder, and the prospect of ever being able to buy anything in the hometown of my family was next to impossible to even think about. I had an English degree, and all I’d ever written were journals. One after the other, stacked in my closet since grade school. My dating life was non-existent. I had just barely come to terms with being gay in the last year of school when I realized my heart felt broken because my best friend finally set a date to marry his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

After college, I was living off coffee in my parents’ basement and had just started a second job at Starbucks to get my insurance and add to my savings. My parents didn’t charge me rent and were not overly demanding of me while I lived there. But it was their house, and their rules held fast. Asian parents tend not to kick you out until after you get married, sometimes not even then. What they do is to needle their way into your finances and start payments back to them for raising you. At least that’s what mine did.

Mom was the first child, and Uncle Keith was the second in their family. Mom was driven and drove Dad constantly. He was used to it, and when he was at the end of his patience, he would get up and quietly leave for what generally turned into a weekend solo camping trip. His car trunk always held his tent, sleeping bag, and camping supplies. I sometimes wondered if Mom started these little arguments to get a free weekend as well.

Her brother, my uncle Keith, was laid-back, friendly, and loved nothing more than talking with neighbors and the people who frequented his shop. Often on these weekends, I’d retreat to his place, and even if I weren’t working the shop, I’d hang around and help out. I enjoyed the time I spent there and believe my uncle liked it too.

Keith’s shop had an ancient five-gallon coffee percolator that he would fill every day. If a customer wanted coffee, he would charge them fifty cents. They could have as many refills as they could stand that day. When I started making the coffee for him, I upgraded the grounds from a no-name brand to a household name brand and later to beans that I would buy from a local roaster and grind daily. He didn’t complain, but one day I saw the new sign he had put up by the coffee cups, stating that coffee was now one dollar and limited to one refill per day.

That same day, I found a note in the tip jar. “Meet me at the Gate tonight at Midnight.” That was all it said, and it was signed, Sandy.

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The Hierophant. Encouraging reflection and one’s relationship with tradition and authority.