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Charlie Spring is not a morning person. He hates mornings. He’s tried, over the years. He swapped out his phone’s built-in clock app for a vibrating watch but kept sleeping through his silent alarm. He tried keeping his curtains open, but that fucking street lamp kept him awake. He got a programmable coffee maker to shave five minutes from his grumpiness, but it didn’t erase the gritty eyes and cold air.
No. He’s not a morning person. But once again, he’s agreed to take the first shift at his local polling location, because if there’s anything Charlie loves more than waking up without an alarm and a silent morning, it’s civic engagement. He might require a quad-shot espresso midday – especially if he’s going to make it to the watch party tonight – but he’ll be damned if anyone is going to try to steal his human rights without a fight.
“Morning,” he mumbles as he walks into the old community center gym at 5:00AM, nodding at his fellow poll workers. He won’t be fully functional until at least 8:00, but remembers Gloria, who he was paired with a few months back during the primaries. She was a riot, gossiping about the other volunteers, pointing out attractive men, raising her eyebrows meaningfully when she wanted to communicate…something. He never quite figured it out what, though. Maybe this time.
“Hello, dear,” she says, placing a warm, gnarled-knuckled hand on his forearm and gives it a squeeze. “I hope we get to do ID checks together this time.”
“Me too,” Charlie replies, smiling at her despite his exhaustion. “Especially if you brought those cinnamon candies again?” Gloria pulls a fistfull of red candies out of her pocket and winks at him. “Excellent,” Charlie nods.
They settle into their seats, listening carefully to the clerk’s instructions, craning their necks to see the line of early voters gathering outside. There’s a sense of importance, of electricity in the air today, and Charlie hopes it translates into triumph instead of sinking despair as the results come in later. He sips his coffee as the doors are unlocked at precisely 6:00AM.
He scans the crowd as they shuffle in, sucking on a cinnamon candy. It’s an interesting mix – business people voting before work, parents slipping out before their kids wake up, beaming grandmas loudly proclaiming that this is their 16th presidential election. And then Charlie sees him. His eyebrows raise slightly as he takes the man in. He’s probably around Charlie’s age. No wedding ring. Not dressed like he’s headed to work or from the gym.
“Mmmhmmm,” Gloria says, leaning over to him and following his eyes. “I know that’s right.”
Charlie blushes, caught out, and narrows his eyes as he watches the man. He smiles politely at the people around him, offers a woman with a baby on her hip a spot in front of him. She thanks him and hands her ID to Gloria.
“Next in line please,” Charlie says, making his voice as authoritative as he can. The man steps up to him and gives him a bright smile.
“Good morning!” he says, beaming. He hands over his ID and Charlie glances at his name. Nicholas Nelson. He scans the barcode on the back of the ID and reaches out to hand it back. And then their eyes meet. Charlie’s hand hovers midair, holding the ID out, while they stare.
“Good morning,” Charlie murmurs, finally finding his voice, feeling a blush color his cheeks. He blinks and breaks away from that gaze, from those soft amber eyes. The man realizes he’s frozen in place and chuckles nervously, taking his ID back from Charlie, their fingertips brushing.
“Thanks so much for volunteering your time,” he says earnestly. Oh. What a sweetheart.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie says, searching frantically through his mind for something to say, some way to extend this interaction. “Headed to work?” he asks finally, weakly.
“Oh, no, not today,” Nicholas says, shaking his head. “Schools are closed today.” Charlie’s eyebrows knit together. “For the election,” he continues. “I’m a teacher.”
“Oh,” Charlie says dumbly. “I’m…not a teacher.”
Now it’s Nicholas’ turn to look confused. Someone behind him in line coughs. Right. Charlie hands Nicholas a ballot. “Any open booth,” he says, gesturing at the wall of partitions on the other side of the room.
“Thanks,” he says, looking at Charlie again with a half smile. “Um, well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He shuffles away.
Charlie will not see him again later.
“ID?” he says to the next person in line.
_____
Charlie does see him again later. Two hours later. He walks through the doors of the polling location, holding the doors open behind him, beckoning a stream of people through, pointing helpfully at the line. He gets in line, holding a woman by the elbow as she waits.
“You can only vote once,” Charlie says when he reaches the front of the line. He’s teasing, but Nicholas’ eyes widen.
“Oh, I know!” he says, looking panicked, glancing around like he’s worried a police officer will materialize and arrest him on the spot. “I’m…I’m just helping people to the polls. I don’t want to vote again. I can’t! It’s not legal!” He says the last part loudly, with a forced laugh, and rubs the back of his neck.
“I was teasing,” Charlie says gently.
“Oh,” he says, relaxing. He laughs and shakes his head. “You got me.”
Charlie smiles at him and takes the ID of the woman whose elbow Nicholas holds, scanning it, and then hands her a ballot. Maybe it’s because it’s after 8:00 now and the caffeine has hit, or maybe it’s the fact that their polling location has had twice the number of voters than expected, but there’s definitely something in the air. It’s thrumming with possibilities. It’s electric. “Will I see you again?” Charlie asks as Nicholas escorts the woman to her booth.
“You will,” Nicholas answers. The woman is settled in the voting booth now, so Nicholas turns around to give her some privacy, leaning against the wall behind him, his arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed in front of the other. Charlie wonders if Nicholas is always this comfortable in his own skin. He wonders if Nicholas turned around so he could watch Charlie. He hopes so. “What’s your name?” Nicholas mouths across the room, his eyes dancing.
“Charlie,” he mouths back, a grin blooming on his face.
“Nick,” Nick replies, pointing at himself. He pushes off the wall and takes the woman’s hand as she reaches out for him, then raises his finger into the air, counting to make sure he has everyone he brought before he leads them out of the room.
“See you next time, Charlie.”
_____
Nick comes back a couple hours later, and this time Charlie is expecting him. “I’m going to take my break,” he says to Gloria, wiggling his fingers at the Clerk, who comes to take his seat. Nick watches Charlie from the back of the line where he waits for his group of eight to vote, more self-sufficient than the last. “How many trips are you planning on making today?” Charlie asks as he refills his coffee cup at the volunteer table before leading them outside. Somehow they both understand that something is happening even though they’ve barely exchanged a dozen words.
“Depends on how long your shift is,” Nick answers, smirking. Charlie’s eyebrows raise.
“And here I thought you cared about getting out the vote,” Charlie replied, smirking back. They smile at each other.
“I volunteered to drive the van from the nursing home until polls close,” Nick answers Charlie’s original question.
“Thank you,” Charlie says, and something unspoken passes between them. They’re in the same fight. “I’m also working the entire day.”
“It’s a good way to spend a day off,” Nick says, and Charlie nods. They both mean it. It’s cold, the sun is weak in the sky, and their breath curls around them. Charlie stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“Come on, it’s warmer inside,” Nick says, his nose red. Charlie nods and they step back inside.
“Don’t take your next group to a different polling station,” Charlie says as Nick’s group makes their way over to him.
“I won’t.”
_____
“I brought you these,” Nick says. He pulls a pair of black gloves out of the pocket of his Carhartt jacket and hands them over. Charlie smiles up at Nick and pulls them on. They’re outside again. Charlie has offered Nick half of his lunch, and they’re sitting at a rickety old picnic table facing the park.
“What grade do you teach?” Charlie asks, offering Nick his Ziplock bag full of baby carrots. Nick picks one out and pops it into his mouth.
“Second. What do you do?”
“I’m in grad school for poli-sci,” Charlie says, gesturing at the community center behind him. “Hence the volunteering.”
“Oh, it’s for a class?” Nick asks, tilting his head.
“No, no. I’m just…I care about our country. So I volunteer.”
“Right,” Nick nods.
“I bet you’re a good teacher,” Charlie says. He already knows it’s true.
“I am,” Nick says, quirking an eyebrow at Charlie, who laughs.
“And so humble too,” Charlie adds.
“Sometimes,” Nick grins. “What do you want to do with your degree?”
“I want to fight.”
Nick nods. He gets it. “I want to fight too.”
_____
Gloria and Charlie have an understanding, and she pulls the volunteer lanyard over Charlie’s head when the passenger van arrives in the parking lot two hours later. “Enjoy your break, doll,” she says, waving down the clerk and pointing at Charlie’s empty seat.
Charlie holds the door open for Nick’s group, beaming at Nick over their white-haired heads. Once Nick has checked to make sure everyone has their IDs handy and knows to meet back at the van in half an hour, he turns to face Charlie, bouncing on his heels. Charlie pulls his gloves on, offers Nick a cinnamon candy, and they head to the park. They settle on a pair of swings, rocking back and forth, holding the cold chains, stubbing their toes into the rubber padding.
“I didn’t think this would happen today,” Nick says after a minute. It feels like a conversation they’ve had before.
“Me neither,” Charlie agrees, twisting the chains of the swing and then unwinding, letting the day whir past him. Nick unzips his jacket and settles it over Charlie’s shoulders, sharing his warmth, and Charlie sighs, watching as people pass out flyers and mill about, making last minute pitches as people pass.
“Can you imagine not caring?” Nick asks.
“I can’t,” Charlie answers, shaking his head, pulling the jacket tight.
_____
They lean against a large oak tree, hidden from the building. The sun is hanging low in the sky now, Daylight Savings making it feel like the end of the day even though it’s only 4:00. One more trip, Nick thinks. Charlie nods. Their eyes meet. Their hands meet. They sigh.
_____
“I have a feeling this wasn’t the outcome you expected when you got here this morning,” Gloria says, winking at Charlie as they gather their things. They glance at Nick waiting by the doors. He’s just dropped off the last group of voters and returned in his own car for Charlie.
“Maybe I’ll be two for two today,” Charlie says hopefully, smiling at her, hugging her.
“And if you’re not, one out of two ain’t bad,” she says, smiling sadly. Gloria has been through a lot during her lifetime. Charlie needs to remember that lifetimes can be long.
He heads toward the exit and Nick’s arm settles over his shoulders. They aren’t sure where they’re going next, but they’ll go together.