Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
FINN
Today is the noisy grand opening of the garage across the street, and as the afternoon gets rolling, The Scoop remains empty of customers yet again, that little bell above the door silent.
There’s no way to sugarcoat this cone. This is a catastrophic disruption for my business, and word from the barbershop and tea house down the block confirms that they’re feeling the hit, too.
But if the people aren’t coming to the ice cream, I decide, I’ll simply bring the ice cream to the people, and get a little snooping in while I’m out there.
“Let’s fill a sample tray,” I announce. “I’ll stir up some customers at the park.”
Kenneth sets his phone down. “Cool,” he says, and starts scooping into the little paper cups. “If you can’t sell the ice cream, might as well give it away.”
“That’s not quite how I meant it.”
“Are you going to wear the rollerblades?” Miranda asks, referencing the promotion I ran for our own grand opening.
“Everyone’s butt looks cute when they’re on rollerblades,” Kenneth adds.
“My butt is the last thing I’m worrying about right now.
” They both look like they’re about to compliment my butt, so I wave my hand to cut them off before I turn to arrange the samples on the tray.
“The rollerblading ice cream cone was a one-time deal. I’ll just walk up and down the street with samples of our flavors and some coupons. Simple!”
The drum of noise outside is steady. I’m surprised by the number of queer motorcyclists in this city. They’ve been parking up and down the block since before we opened, rumbling outside the ice cream shop, shouting over the motors to talk to each other.
“Want help carrying everything?” Kenneth asks.
I shake my head. “Please just tend the counter. Miranda, there should be enough wholesale orders to keep you busy in back.”
Those wholesale orders are going to keep the shop chugging along during this rough patch, although I’ll have to cancel my plan to invest in some new kitchen equipment next month, and if we don’t pull in some hefty sales this weekend, we’ll slip into the negative.
At least with great employees to rely on, I can turn my attention to the problem at hand.
Hoisting the sample tray up by my shoulder, I walk into another busy summer afternoon.
After a blustery winter in Buffalo, the city’s gay neighborhood, Allentown, has burst to life for our warm months.
Down the main drag, I see life going on as usual, couples strolling and walking dogs, friends laughing near the bookstore.
Our block, however, looks like there’s an outlaw convention in town.
A flashy purple motorcycle pulls up next to me, and I stumble a step backward from it as I steady the tray. When the rider takes her helmet off, though, I see that it’s Jade, an old friend. She shakes out her long hair before greeting me.
“Finn! I was just thinking to myself, with all the work overdue on my ride, I’m going to have extra excuses to stop by your shop. I’ll be by to grab a pint on my way home.”
I brighten at that comment. “Hopefully you and many others.” Although I can’t imagine biker spillover will make a dent in what we’re losing in foot traffic. “Sample our new flavor?” I ask, offering the tray. “Butter fudge sugar cookie. Today I’m trying it with a hint of extra cinnamon.”
“Butter, and fudge, and sugar, and cookie?” She grins as she leans forward and grabs a little cup, which she sample-spoons into her mouth immediately. Her face falls into a polite smile. “Nice,” she says.
Not quite the enthused reaction I was hoping for. It still needs something more.
I smile anyway. “So, here to check out the garage?”
She glances over her shoulder. “Probably not your ideal choice for a neighbor,” she acknowledges as a big bike rumbles outside. “But there hasn’t been a queer-friendly bike shop in town for years. Mia has an appointment for her bike tomorrow, and I’m bringing the backup in at the end of the week.”
“I’m so glad all the bikers are going to have a friendly shop,” I manage. “Tell your wife to stop by for a sample, too.” I lean forward. “By the way, what do you know about this place?” I ask, raising my voice under the sound of machinery. “I haven’t even met the owner yet.”
Jade gestures to a tall, lanky guy out front. “That’s Chase, the red-haired guy hunched over that bike. He’s only lived in town a couple months. Seems like a good guy, though. Honest, laid back. Want me to introduce you?”
“Right now?” I smooth the front of my pink T-shirt, wondering how they’d react if I sauntered over with my cute little ice cream samples and tried to object to their noise levels.
When I glance at the garage, another man comes out of the shop, a big, burly guy who stands with his back to us. He starts to rant about something to the owner, and Chase shouts right back at him as he throws his hands in the air.
I am not prepared for battle today.
“I’ll find a more opportune moment another time. Don’t let me keep you!”
I make my way around the shop, smiling toward the bikers as I lift my sample tray high.
No one takes me up on the implicit offer, though, not until I’m all the way around the corner and away from the noise.
By the park, I’m swarmed with both regular customers and tourists, in town for a summer weekend.
I happily hand out samples and talk about The Scoop, chatting while the sun shines and birds flit through the air.
Being out in the gayborhood lifts my spirits.
This is what I opened the shop for. Not just my love of sweet treats, but my love of community, friendship, and joy, all of which thrive here in Allentown.
An ice cream shop is a place of happy memories and togetherness, and I want to nurture that, make more of it in the world.
I grew up in a loving family, and when I decided to start a Gay-Straight Alliance at my high school, my parents supported me in making it a reality.
It was all mostly a great experience for me, but many queer people aren’t blessed with wholesome memories of community belonging.
They don’t have easy, welcoming spaces where they can simply be.
I hope my shop can play a small role in righting that wrong.
It’s why I love being a part of the gayborhood.
The neighbors here have as many differences as similarities, but when we all come together, we create something magical and unique, a community bigger than the sum of its many beautiful parts.
I’m reminded of the truth of that as I enjoy some laughs and neighborly conversation in the park, where I send more than a few people over to The Scoop for a proper cone.
When I’m out of supplies, I walk back, strolling determinedly around the noisy garage.
I’d normally bring over ice cream sandwiches to a new neighbor, but today, I’m inclined to bury myself in the zoning regulations in my search for a solution.
There’s got to be some sort of law to protect businesses from this.
Back in the shop, my online search for regulations gets me nowhere, so I text my friends Nicholas and Kavya to say I need advice.
They’re the owners of Blossom, the flower shop down the street, as well as being my closest friends.
Not only can they offer me sympathy and support, but they’ve been generous with lots of practical advice and wisdom from their experiences running a small business.
Nicholas offers to host dinner, so after work, I make the short walk to the flower shop and the home he shares upstairs with his husband.
Clay greets each guest and chats for a few minutes in the kitchen before disappearing out back.
He and his boss on the carpentry crew, Sue, have a community project they’re planning, although I know he’s intentional also about making sure Nicholas has quality time alone with his best friends.
As we’re getting into the delicious tofu curry that Nicholas prepared, Kavya clears her throat. “I have an announcement: I’ve made a horrible, wonderful mistake.”
I perk up. “Oh no. And, yay?”
She pushes her plate back. “You both remember how I signed up for the glassblowing class at the craft center?”
“Of course,” Nicholas answers. “Zooey is taking the class, too.”
Kavya has been so busy with admin at the flower shop and running the booth at the farmer markets, she’s barely had space for a creative outlet. Her girlfriend Zooey noticed that and offered to turn one of their date nights into a craft night.
“I think it’s great that you’re trying new things together,” I say. “Now I’m just wondering how glassblowing became horrible?”
“Horrible and wonderful,” Nicholas adds.
Kavya nods. “As you know, Zooey and I are both busy as hell. She’s taking over the flower farm from her mom, and I’ve barely had time to experiment with new bouquets lately.
The class was supposed to be an hour each week of stress-free fun.
But we were talking to the instructor, and long story short, we agreed to help curate an art show at the craft center. ”
“You’re curating!” Nicholas blurts out, excited. “You’ll be perfect for it!” He catches himself. “But you’re already overloaded,” he adds, concerned.
Kavya laughs. “Thank you. The show will feature all artists from the gayborhood, past and present. It’s already mostly organized, but the curator had to pull out.
It’s not ideal to jump in only a couple of months before opening, but there’s a budget crunch at the center, and it looked like the entire exhibition might be canceled otherwise.
Zooey and I each got excited about the work when we saw it, and here we are. ”
“That is exciting,” I say. “Anything we can do to help?”
“Yes, please tell us,” Nicholas agrees. “Let’s save an art show at the craft center. Sounds like an adventure.”
Kavya smiles at both of us. “I’ll let you know. In the meanwhile, I appreciate your understanding if I seem distracted. It’s going to be a very full summer.”
“Understandable,” I say. “And honestly, no excuse needed. The way all three of us are working, who wouldn’t be distracted?”
Nicholas gives me a sympathetic nod. “What advice were you looking for? Is the garage still noisy with their renovations?”
“Worse than that,” I answer. “They’re open for business and louder than ever. I tried to look up noise ordinances online, but just got lost in the municipal website.”
“That website is a mess,” Kavya says. “I can never locate what I need on it, but the ordinances are real. I remember from when we added live music to the farmers’ market.”
“If the website is impossible to navigate, how am I supposed to...” I trail off as I realize the answer to my question, and Nicholas and I catch eyes.
“The library,” we both say excitedly, and Kavya laughs.
“There’s no problem that can’t be at least partially solved with a visit to the library,” she says. “But is there anything us non-librarians could help you with tonight?”
I set my fork down and consider the question, but shake my head. “This mess has occupied my mind enough for one day,” I say. “More happy talk, please. Preferably something totally unrelated to the garage.”
Kavya leans forward with a half-grin, a tofu cube pierced on her fork. “In that case, what’s new with your ogre boyfriend?”
I laugh. “He’s definitively not an ogre nor my boyfriend.” Slightly distressed when I think about it, I take a gulp of wine. “Shit. Do I talk about him like he’s my boyfriend? He’s so funny and nice and interesting and sexy to me specifically because he’s not my boyfriend, in fact.”
Nicholas scrunches his mouth to the side as he tilts his head, confused. “What does that mean?”
“It means that with identifiable details forbidden,” I explain, “our connection is pure fantasy. All escape. His world is not my world. Even if I admit something vulnerable or embarrassing about myself, I know it will never come back to haunt me. And when you don’t make space for real-life challenges, it’s much easier to simply enjoy someone, even if you might totally clash were you to meet.
” I glance over to Kavya. “And we’re doing wonderfully, thanks for asking.
The characters in our current story are on the verge of fucking reality into multiple dimensions. ”
“Spicy,” Kavya says.
Kavya and Nicholas are the only two people I’ve told about my secret pen pal.
When I shared, I was a little embarrassed to acknowledge it, but they of course immediately loved the idea.
The emails I exchange once or twice a week are a healthy release, a creative project and sexual outlet, too.
As I’ve been so wrapped up in opening the business, I’ve barely had time to search for true love, so I’ve especially appreciated that aspect of it.
It’s pure fun, and I believe strongly in the importance of nurturing fun in your life.
Even so, I make a mental note to revisit this topic later. It’s been a year since I launched the business, so maybe it’s time to make room for dating again. I don’t want to get too dependent on an anonymous stranger from the internet, after all.
No matter how appealing the idea of reality-breaking sex sounds sometimes.