Chapter Text
It’s a brisk, chilly autumnal morning in Maple Grove, Minnesota. The reds, oranges and yellows of the leaves fall and crunch underneath people’s boots as they take their morning walks, and the wind blows as a gentle kiss is blown through the town. Michael Schmidt is standing in his front yard, looking up at the grey sky and drinking out of a withering white mug, where a fun pattern once was printed on the side. It’s illegible now. Abby is in her room drawing pictures, and he shivers into his forest green sweatshirt. He needed to find a new job. He was just beginning to think that he would have grey hairs by the time he would be 25. It was the end of October nearing, and he looked at each house’s Halloween decorations hung on their doors, driveways and house trim. It makes him look up at their own small white house, nothing quite distinguishable about it outside of the house numbers.
He turns and goes back inside, sitting down tiredly at the yellow vintage table and matching chair, looking down at the newspaper. Jobs, jobs, jobs. He couldn’t keep them well - either between passing out from nightmares, or his slightly combative attitude and snippy answers when he wouldn’t conform to ridiculous standards. A month here, two weeks there. He needed to prove he was stable for Abby. His world. His sun, moon and stars in the sky. He stares down at the ads.
Night Security - Abandoned Facility
15$ - 10-6 AM
Barista At Velvet Brewery
12$ hourly + tips - 4 - 2 PM
Night Stocking Job Raley’s Grocery
20$ hourly - 10 - 6 AM
He couldn’t really see himself working for anyone. It was too difficult - either he didn’t listen to what his boss asked, or hated being micromanaged. It was frustrating. To him, it wasn’t about the job as much as it was to just have something to support Abby. He had been out a job a week now, and his squirrel funds were getting down there - especially with rent being due soon. He couldn’t afford to be picky, but he also couldn’t stand the idea of another day without work. He scratches out the barista job - people weren’t really his scene. Night security seemed nice, but he also thought the pay was low. Raley’s was a small, local grocer in Maple Grove. Maybe if he was lucky, he was going to be the only person working at night.
He looks at the clock. 9 AM. Abby and him had eaten breakfast. Mrs. Todd next door could probably watch her for an hour and a half - she was a sweet, older woman with greying black hair. She also had a granddaughter named Sophie - around Abby’s age. He already starts to think about her and Abby being friends - and that this dynamic might work. He cuts out the ad and sets it on the counter, and gets up to go get Abby.
“Hey, Abbs. I need to go to an interview, so I’m gonna ask you to get some stuff ready to go to Mrs. Todd’s house.” He leans against the door, his hands on the frames as he tilts his head to look at her at her desk. Her arms were surrounded by various coloring utensils - markers, crayons, a few pencils. He peers over her arm at her drawing.
“Abby?”
“I heard you, Mike.” She answers quietly.
“It won’t take too long - It looks like a really good one, and it pays well.”
She looks up at him and frowns. “Is Sophie gonna be there?”
He furrows his brow. “I’m not sure. Do you want Sophie to be there?”
The frown is exchanged for a small smile pulling at her mouth. Her brown curls extend to just under her chin, and the way she crinkles her nose reminds him of his brother. His chest gets tight. “Yeah. She draws pictures with me too. I have some in my backpack.”
“Show me when we’re home for lunch, okay?”
“Okay.”
In the next ten minutes, Mike is dressed in a grey button up with a beige-resembling tie and black slacks - a slightly wrinkled copy of his resume and car keys in hand. Abby has her light up Velcro shoes on, and her My Little Pony backpack over her shoulders. Mike looks around the house before closing the door behind him, and Abby is already down the driveway.
“You’re too slow.” She remarks, her hands on her hips. He squints, pointing back at her.
“I think you cheated. I didn’t get to start at the same time as you.”
She sticks her tongue out in response, and skips her way down the sidewalk for a few moments before walking up the driveway of Mrs. Todd’s home. Her house and Mike’s seemed vastly different - her home was bright, and there were planter boxes of chrysanthemums in the driveway with a well manicured lawn. Even her postbox was cute - decorated to be a giant flower, one of those silly trees from the Dr. Seuss books — at the request of Sophie.
Abby knocks on the red door, and Mike takes a second to get up the driveway. His body felt sluggish. He didn’t mean to take such poor care of himself - really, it just came with thinking of everyone else first before him. The elderly woman answers the door, peering down at her. She wears a baby blue button up dress with a white apron on her hips.
“Abby!” She exclaims, smiling. “What a lovely surprise. Is your brother working today?”
On cue, he gives a little wave and leans against the wall adjacent to the entrance. Abby looks between the two adults as they talk. “I’m actually going to see about an interview at Raley’s.”
“Oh my! The one on Stockton?” She asks, a kind smile to her lips. She had caring, warm brown eyes and seemed to look out for the Schmidt siblings - as much as she could. “That’s very exciting. You’ll do wonderful, I’m sure. Oh, come here.” She laughs softly, stepping out of the doorway to fix Mike’s tie. “It won’t do if you haven’t got yourself straightened out.”
Abby looks into the doorway - dashing in to see Sophie sitting at the living room coffee table coloring.
“Bye Mike!” She shouted, already inside.
“Oh, she must have seen Sophie.” She looks behind her, chuckling before looking back up at him. He looked tired. People could see it. She gives a small frown.
“Are you getting enough sleep dear? Eating well?”
He shrugs, rubbing his eye. “I’m trying, Mrs. Todd. I’m really hoping this one sticks.”
“I do too, dear. You can move up well in the grocery store too, if it’s something you like. It could support you with school, or getting a house.” She brushes lint off his shirt with her petite hand, and he smiles. She was so positive.
“I hope so. I think once I get a good schedule, we’ll be golden. I promise I’m gonna pay you one of these days.”
“Pay me in exchange with doing my lawn work. I don’t think my son enjoys coming to trim my lawn so often, and fixing my ceiling fans.”
“Consider it a deal.”
He gives her a quick hug, and starts his walk down the driveway.
“Oh! Michael!” She calls. He half turns on his heel, looking at her.
“You should stop by that lovely coffee house across the way from Raley’s. It’s open all the time, I hear. Perhaps it’ll help get you through the nights when you need it.”
Mike spends the next twenty minutes in almost radio silence, with the window cracked as he drives to the grocery store. Raley’s is the star of the Clearwater Center shopping mall, with various small stores on either side. Hallmark, a local pet food store with their grooming salon next to it. Small boutiques. And as he pulls into a parking spot, he looks to the shopping center across the street. Just as Mrs. Todd described it, the crown jewel among the rest of the beige buildings - a coffee shop.
Brewed Awakening.
He chuckles to himself, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. God. What a goofy pun. The outside of the building is a darker tan color, with the sign of a grumpy bean on the outside hanging above the drive-thru. A Mercedes pulls through to the window, and a blonde girl leans out and gives someone their order. He can’t see her face, but he watches the interaction.
He sighs, looking down at his resumé. Okay Mikey, let’s go.
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The grocery store’s yellow lights hang above the aisles, lined up with various goods and snacks. It’s somewhere he would go every two weeks for groceries. His eyes wander over to the brightly lit produce, and cracks a small smile at the sound of fake thunder as the produce is misted. He brings his eyes around back to in front of him, looking for an employee. He waves his hand, catching the attention of some cart-wrangling teenager.
“Hey! You uh, you got a manager on duty?”
The kid looks confused for a moment, before pointing a thumb behind them to the front, and continues to push the stack of carts back to the cart corral at the entrance of the store. He looks to the door, and nervously approaches the door. He feels still, small knots of uncertainty as he knocks.
“Come in!” A voice hollers, somewhat cheerful in manor. He grips the doorknob and slowly opens, tilting his head. A middle aged, slightly chubby man sits at a desk. His hair is combed over, but recedes in the front. He wears a powder blue button up - he stands up in intrigue. To go with his shirt is a pair of khaki tan slacks. He outreaches a hand to meet Mike’s in a shake - to which Mike returns, but it is unsure in a motion. The man smiles at him.
“Craig Blair. You got a name, young man?”
“Mike-Michael, uh, Michael Schmidt.”
“Okay Michael! Take a seat, tell me what I can do for you.” Craig sits back down, and the pleather seat grunts in resistance as he sits down. Mike slips into the small cushioned chair in front of the desk. Craig holds his hand out for the resumé.
Mike’s eyes scan his desk to learn a little more than just his name as the stranger can form an opinion based on the words on a piece of paper. It looked like he had two kids, and a wife. Photos pinned behind him, and a couple of frames on the desk. Store manager rests engraved on a plaque on his desk.
“What position are you inquiring for, Michael?” He asks while he reads.
“Uh - the night stocking job I saw in the paper. I mean I’ll take anything-”
“Can you lift up to 75 pounds?” He asks, peering over the top of the paper at Mike.
“Oh - Oh, yeah. I can.” He nods, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.
Silence goes by, and he swallows. “You have a lot of jobs here, but the times are short. You wanna talk about it?”
His voice is non judgmental as he lowers the paper completely to have a conversation. Mike’s eyes darted nervously to the side. “We don’t have to, but if you’re gonna stick around, I gotta know in advance.”
“I take care of my sister, my little sister. So I need something that works for us both.”
“Who watches her, will watch her?”
“Our neighbor.”
The man pauses as if to think, reading the paper. His eyes scan the text on the page. It was a tossup. The employment history of Michael Schmidt was a red flag. “Do you want something long term?”
“Yes.” He answers, without missing a beat.
“It’s nothing crazy. You just go through and restock the store. We got daystockers, but you just take care of whatever people bought from 3 until closing at 9.”
Mike nods.
“Say, you wanna go on a little tour of the back of house, and we can get you some shirts?”