Page 97 of Possibly Texas

And I always would be.

“Don’ forget to swab the decks, matey!” Starbuck boomed from the check-out counter. “I likes ter keep a tight ship!”

Looking up from my place at the back of the pirate ship-slash-coffee shop, I gripped the mop handle tightly as I gave Starbuck a smile and a nod.

“That’s what I’m doing, captain,” I said, chuckling with amusement.

“Aye. That yer are. Carry on, matey!”

Starbuck turned away too quickly to catch the small salute I gave him. Since my employer decided to get back to cleaning the coffee creation station—his name for it, not mine—I went back to swabbing the decks. The mop glided effortlessly over the planks of Starbuck’s coffee shop. He’d kept the place so clean that Starbuck had practically made linoleum out of the wooden plank flooring. In fact, I would have gone so far as to say that someone could eat directly off of the floor. Not that I would ever recommend it to a customer. Rules are in place for a reason, and I didn’t want to sweep up any mess a customer left anyway.

Besides, why sit on the hard floor when there were plenty of tables and chairs waiting to be utilized? If nothing else, customers could go outside and enjoy their coffee and treats in the Possibilian summertime sun; feel the breeze from Susurrus Creek. Then again, summer had officially settled in for a stay in Possibly, so the tables and chairs inside were probably the best bet.

July had slithered away like a humid fog, pulling August, arid and fiery, along to replace it. I’d lived in and visited many places where August was completely intolerable. Places so hot and humid that walking outside would take a person’s breath away. Possibly wasn’t that bad, mostly because the perpetual breeze that came off of the creek seemed to keep things a few degrees cooler than would be typical of a tiny little town in Texas. However, out of all of the summer months, August was proving to be an absolute sizzler compared to June and July.

Luckily, I spent most of my days inside with air conditioning, so Possibly hadn’t managed to defeat me all summer long. Swamp butt was unavoidable when I walked to Starbuck’s each day to start my shift, but it wasn’t too bad. It only took a few minutes to get from Jack’s place to work, so the damage was minimal.

“Arrr, I’m gon’ whip up a frappe, matey!” Starbuck’s barked. “Wouldjer like one fer yer walk home?”

“Sounds great, captain,” I said. “Thanks.”

Halfway through July, after finding out that help—in the form of my mom and her car—was not coming, and finding that I didn’t have a friend in the world, I had gone looking for a job in town. The first place I stopped was Starbuck’s because a teenage kid wanting to earn cash and a coffee shop just seemed to go hand in hand. Though he usually managed to run the shop just fine on his own, Starbuck said he’d be glad to have help during the morning hours. So, he hired me on the spot.

Each week day morning, I’d walk over to Starbuck’s and start my shift at eight o’clock. Until noon I’d sweep and mop, wipe down surfaces, take out trash, or do any chore Starbuck needed me to complete. It wasn’t the most thrilling work, but it put some spending money in my pocket.

Not that there was a lot to spend money on in Possibly. Without the use of a car, I couldn’t really go anywhere else to spend money, either. Jack, I had found out, didn’t even have a car. Most people in Possibly didn’t—because they didn’t go anywhere. They thought of their little town as an island. Anything they needed could be found within walking distance.

Groceries could be delivered from the store out on the highway leading out of the north end of town or purchased in the small grocery and dry goods stores on Liberty Lane. Coffee and treats could be found at Starbuck’s. Samuel’s Soda Spray had drinks and ice cream and the occasional hot dog and hamburger day. Grandy’s Auto picked up the slack. It was an odd concept to me, being perfectly happy living within the same square mile, day in and day out, but Possibilians were some of the most content people I’d ever met.

After my fights with Jack and Auggie, I still hadn’t had a reckoning about my new hometown. Frustration and annoyance seemed to be how I dealt with my feelings about the tiny little berg, but I was beginning to slough those feelings off as time went by. It was probably the heat. It’s hard to be angry when it’s hot outside. A guy has to reserve his energy for more important things—like getting everywhere on foot in August.

“Comin’ righ’ up!” Starbuck announced, his statement punctuated by the sound of the blender kicking to life.

Quickly, I finished swabbing the decks and plopped the mop into the wheely bucket. By the time I had pushed it into the backroom, dumped out the old water, rinsed the mop in the industrial sink, and washed my hands, Starbuck had my frappe waiting for me at the check-out counter. He gave me a toothy grin and a wink from the eye not covered by a patch as I slid it from the counter into my hand. I grabbed a straw from the cup on the counter and saluted my boss again.

“Thanks, captain,” I said.

“Aye,” he growled happily. “See ya’ t’morrow?”

“Like always,” I replied.

Starbuck propped himself up on the counter to enjoy his drink as I made my way out. By the time I was pushing through the front door and out into the sizzling summer heat, I had stuffed my straw in my cup and slid the paper into my pocket. I’d toss it in the trash at home.

Levi Lee was outside of Starbuck’s, as was usual, but he was back to the green-screen suit. He still hadn’t added a pair of shorts to his getup, so I struggled to avert my eyes. He was pressed up against the hull of the pirate ship to the side of the front door, pretending to be part of the ship once again. Apparently, an inept magician mime just didn’t work out like he had thought.

“Hey, Levi Lee,” I said, trying to make my tone chipper.

He didn’t respond.

“Good job, man!” I congratulated him.

“Hey! Thanks!” His voice came from within the suit.

I winced.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” I muttered before dashing away.