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The old man limped his way over to the hot dog cart, a few singles now in hand. It wasn’t much, but it was all the cash Phil had to give. It was enough to buy the man a hot dog, at least. With a satisfied smile, Phil continued toward Gobbler’s Knob.
“You couldn’t be bothered buyin’ the guy some real food?”
Phil paused, looking back at the Hot Dog Vendor, a blonde woman a good few inches shorter than himself.
“I’m sorry?”
She smirked and rolled her eyes. “At least you didn’t give him the finger or tell him to fuck off again. But if you thought you were actually gettin’ the hang of this, you got another thing comin’.”
Phil’s heart froze, registering the words. Looking back, he was far from proud of how he’d treated the old man (and, well…everyone) before. But how could she possibly know about those other days? Before he could ask, though, the vendor gave him a condescending smile. “See you tomorrow.”
He stood there, dumbfounded, until Ned Ryerson’s approach snapped him back into reality, reminding him that it was almost time for the broadcast. Shaking the bizarre exchange off, he put on a smile and turned his attention to his former classmate.
The day must go on.
~
“Change, Mister?”
Phil handed the man his few singles (because of course Wells Fargo’s ATM was out of service, and the bank itself closed for the holiday. Useless bank.) and the man walked over to make the same purchase as last time
…only to be stopped by the vendor and pointed in a different direction.
Weird, but Phil was prepared to ignore it until,
“Guess you didn’t follow my advice from yesterday, huh, pal?”
The voice was much deeper than the high feminine one he remembered, and when Phil turned to face the vendor, he was shocked to find himself eye-to-eye with a man about his height. The change threw him off, but to his credit, Phil managed to recover quickly enough to respond, “Hey, listen. It’s not my business where he spends the money I gave him. At least he’s getting something to eat at all.”
The other man shrugged as he started to push his cart elsewhere. “Doesn’t really matter to me. But Natasha wouldn’t like that too much. She cares about the guy.”
Phil ran to catch up to him. “And what about you?”
Another shrug. “Guess I do too, in a way. Not as much as Nat, but I figure he needs a real meal, not a hot dog.”
A response was on Phil’s tongue, but was cut off by a shout of “Phil? Phil Connors?”
A wry smile from the vendor, “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Phil watched the man walk away, a million questions swirling in his mind, but all he could think to yell as the man left was, “I thought you were a woman yesterday!?”
A hand on his shoulder, and Phil knew without looking who it was. “Hey Ned,” he said absently. “I hear you sell insurance now.”
Ned laughed. “It’s true, it’s true. But, I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you and, y’know, my oldest, Jamie, taught me a lot about gender when she told me she was, ah..genderfluid, I think was the word? And I’d bet that hot dog vendor is probably the same way.”
Phil sighed, resigning himself to letting the matter drop. At least the conversation with Ned was new.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of people who are genderfluid. Maybe you’re right.”
~
Or maybe he wasn’t.
Maybe Phil had just been imagining that the vendor had ever been a woman, or that the conversations even existed in the first place. Every Groundhog Day since, he’d seen the same man, who now hardly gave Phil a passing glance as he gave the old man money. He did still point the man in another direction instead of selling him a hot dog, but who knew if that meant anything.
Maybe for once in this time loop, something could finally be written off as a weird dream.
~
Phil had forgotten all about the mystery of the vendor in his haste of helping folks in town.
At least until he’d misstepped later on in the day and walked right into the moving metal cart, landing on his ass on the cold, hard ground.
“A-are you all right?”
Phil looked up to the source of the soft, hesitant voice, and his brain practically short-circuited. Wearing the same outfit as the Hot Dog Vendor he had been seeing the past 14 Groundhog Days, this time stood a short brunette woman, staring down at him with concern.
“You shrank,” he said dumbly, in lieu of an actual response.
The woman looked down at her shoes, withdrawing away from Phil’s gaze and trying to make herself seem even smaller. “So sorry for, um, running you over. Bye now,” she said quietly, maneuvering her cart away.
Phil stood, wincing at the throbbing pain around his tailbone. At least he wouldn’t be feeling that in the morning.
“Wait, come back!” The vendor kept walking. He tried again.
“I want to buy a hot dog.”
She stopped and looked back at Phil, disbelief written on her face. “No..I don’t think you do. You gave your hot dog back when your producer friend bought you one. I remember”
He blinked, searching his memory until he recalled that he did give back the hot dog Rita bought him when they’d spent the day together. But now that he really thought about it, he was sure he’d given it back to a man, a shorter man than the vendor he’d been seeing. Certainly not the woman he was speaking to now.
“No, you weren’t there. I remember too, and a man sold her the hot dogs. He was taller than you, so don’t tell me it was you.”
“They’re all taller than me,” she whispered, a touch of longing in her voice.
“Please,” he begged, desperation leaking into his voice. “Tell me how you keep changing and how you know everything I’ve done. No one else should know.”
“The Groundhog knows,” she mumbled, still refusing to look Phil in the eye.
Phil scoffed, defeated. “Yeah, I’ll bet he does. But I don’t understand how you-“
“I can’t tell you,” the woman interrupted. “I don’t..I don’t know how. I need time. More time.”
“Seems like something you and me have nothing but.”
A weak smile. “Y-yeah. I guess it’s a little like that. Not really, though.” She stood there, considering her words before continuing. “You…you have to save the old man. I’m stuck with this cart, can’t save anyone, I can’t help him like you can. Please.”
“What? How can I save-“
“I have to go,” she said suddenly, pushing her cart away, faster this time. “Just please save him”
Just save him.
Save him from what?
Whatever it was, Phil would do it. He had nothing but time, so he’d figure out a way eventually.
~
He couldn’t.
~
Once he’d resigned himself to the fact that his efforts were futile, Phil decided to give the Hot Dog Vendor a piece of his mind. It didn’t matter which one it was, all he knew was that one of them had to explain why they’d given him an impossible task.
The minute he caught sight of the cart, Phil rushed over, stopping just long enough to give Mr. Jenson the money.
Not that it’ll fix anything
He continued past, not looking at the man; it hurt too much.
Phil allowed this frustration and anguish to fuel his resolve as he reached the cart, not even bothering to check which one of the vendors it was before launching into his rant.
“I did everything I possibly could. I brought him food, blankets, took him to the hospital, tried to revive him myself, everything. I couldn’t save him. So I guess if you want him to live, you’ll have to save him yourself because clearly whatever I’m doing isn’t working.”
“Well jeez, my man, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Phil finally looked at the vendor and recognized him as the one who’d sold Rita the hot dogs.
“Haven’t seen you in a while. I was kind of hoping you’d be the little brunette.”
The man just grinned, oblivious to Phil’s sour attitude. “Aw yeah, Cam is great, I love being her. But I dunno, my man, I just felt like being me today. I got tired of being sour-puss Natasha.”
“…okay? And you are?”
“I’m Jaeden, my guy.”
“Well, I already like you better than the rest of…you. So maybe you can help me”
Jaeden tilted his head thoughtfully. “don’t think you want a hot dog, am I right, my man?” He snorted at his own comment.
“Yeah, no. I was more wondering why your other self asked me to save the old man. Or how any of you know about my other Groundhog Days. Either answer would be great.”
Phil knew he was treading dangerously close into asshole territory, but he was becoming increasingly desperate for answers.
Jaeden nodded, ”Well, Tasha likes the old man. I do too, he’s a real nice guy, but Tasha has a soft spot for him. Only soft spot that me has.” He laughed again. “Uh, as for your other question, I’m not too sure, to tell you the truth. I just exist and I see the day as it plays out. Guess since you remember it all too, you’re the reason the day keeps replaying. Must not be doing something right, my man.”
Phil considered the other man for a moment. “Okay,” he said at last. “What should I be doing to fix it?”
A shrug “Not sure, my guy, but I think you’re on the right track. Can’t go wrong being nice to everyone, am I right?”
Phil opened his mouth to agree, but was cut off.
“Phil? Phil Connors?”
Jaeden smiled. “Time to go. Good luck, my man.”
~
At 3:00 the next Groundhog Day, Phil found himself face-to-face with the blonde vendor, but this time, there was no condescending smirk to be found. This time, she regarded Phil with nothing but coldness.
“You’re not helpin’ him by givin’ him money for a hot dog.”
She didn’t have to say who ‘he’ was; Phil knew. “Why do you sell it to him if you want him to eat something else? You point him in another direction every time you’re not…Natasha, right?”
She stared at Phil, lips pressed into a straight line. A moment later, and she slumped over her cart, utterly defeated. “I don’t know how to turn him away. I just don’t have the heart to say no to him.”
“Then why are you mad at me?”
She looked at him, eyes empty, and scowled. “At least you have the power to do somethin' to save him. I’m stuck with this cart.”
Phil’s gaze was hard as he looked her in the eye. “I couldn’t save him. I tried everything.”
Her eyes, a cloudy blue just seconds ago, now seemed to brighten, alight as if to tell him, no, he hadn’t tried everything, he should have done more. But she softened, slumping more. “Yeah. I know”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “It’s what I get for gettin’ attached to a dying homeless man. I just feel so bad for him.”
Phil, unsure of what else to say, just told her, “I know. I’m sorry.”
Natasha hummed in acknowledgement of the apology and they stood there, silently wallowing in their shared disappointment.
Phil sighed. “I should probably go. Maybe I can help someone else out.” He tapped the edge of the cart as he began to walk away. “I’ll see you around, Natasha.
“Hey,” Natasha called out, surprising Phil and, if the look on her face was any indication, shocking herself as well. “Jeff. The kid from the diner?” Phil nodded. “He’s like, in love with the Deputy, Wilbur. Deputy is apparently gone on him too, but they won’t fess up ‘cause they’re scared of what the Sheriff will say. You should give them a push.”
With that, she gave him a smile that just bordered on sincere, and left with the cart.
~
“There’s, um. This one woman. Her cat gets stuck in a tree and she falls off the ladder trying to get it down.”
~
“This one couple’s tire always blows out, and neither of them can change it. You might be able to help, my man.”
~
“That man in the Groundhog hat? With the blue snowsuit? He always chokes on the hot dog he buys. I can’t leave the cart to help him. Could you maybe…”
~
“Hey, that couple over there. I know you’re tryin’ to get the guy to pop the question. Maybe get ‘em an engagement present. I heard them whisperin’ ‘bout chairs and ropes. Guess they’re into that pro wrestlin’ stuff.”
~
Phil worked for months to perfect his routine. It was still shaky, and some of his timing was a bit off, but he swore he almost had it.
But this morning, he just didn’t feel up to it. He was exhausted and maybe it was selfish of him to want a day to just do the broadcast and take the rest of the day for himself, but he supposed he could try to run through the plan mentally to see where he could make improvements.
And that is how Phil ended up sitting on a bench in the town center around 2:00, just observing the scene for the first time that he could remember.
“Taking the day off from being a superhero?”
Phil tore his gaze away from where he’d been focused (just a second sooner, and he could make it in time to give Mrs. C the tissue) and found himself looking into the eyes of the tallest of the vendors. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten used to the fact that the Hot Dog Vendor was an inexplicable, ever-changing, genderfluid being, but that’s how it was. Phil stopped questioning things a long time ago.
“Wouldn’t say that I’m a superhero. I gave up on trying any crazy stunts after I messed up the landing on that leapfrog maneuver.” He shook his head, trying to send off the ghost of the horrible pain he’d been in that day. “I haven’t seen this you in a while. Where’ve you been?”
The man shrugged. “Just haven’t felt like me these days. Been nice seeing you otherwise; I think Nat is starting to almost like you”
Phil laughed. “Maybe. I know Jaeden never had a problem with me.”
“I like everyone when I’m Jaeden, pal.”
He didn’t know why, but he felt the need to ask, “What about Cam? Why do you always run away?”
The man was quiet as he considered the question before answering, “Saw you die as Camille. Every time you killed yourself in public, I was Camille. Hurts most to look at you when I’m her, like looking at a ghost.”
Phil felt a stab of guilt as he processed this. He hadn’t cared at the time that his suicides would have any lasting impact on anyone but himself. Not that they lasted anyway.
“I’m sorry. And I’ll apologize again next time you’re Camille. I didn’t realize.”
The vendor nodded, but said “Dunno if you’ll be seeing Cam again, but we’ll see.”
Phil had no clue what that was supposed to mean, but he let it go, another question itching at his mind as he watched the man sell Debbie a corn dog. Phil smiled and waved to her as she left.
“You keep saying you can’t leave the cart. I figured it was just you protecting your merchandise, but you really can’t leave it, can you?”
The man shook his head. “No. Tried once. To save the old man, y’know?. But,” he sighed. “I haven’t been Matthew since.”
Phil was about ready to apologize again, but the vendor waved it off. “It’s fine, pal. My own fault. Knew I shouldn’t have, but I felt like I had to try.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.” A look up at the square’s clock, “I should probably get going.”
Phil nodded, but realized, “Wait. Before you go. Who are you? Today, I mean.”
A small smile. “Kenneth.”
“Kenneth. It’s been good talking to you.”
Kenneth’s smile vanished, his face returning to its usual neutral state. “Been nice talking to you too. That’s from all of me.”
Again, Phil didn’t understand, but he didn’t have the chance to question it because Kenneth turned back to him one last time.
“By the way. Get that producer some warm boots.” A real smile. “Think that’s all you’ll need. You’re almost there, pal.”
And with that, the vendor was gone.
Boots.
He could manage that.