Let It Snow

by Cassie Cross

  We sit together in companionable silence, watching and sipping and just enjoying the morning that was unplanned but lovely just the same. The further I get into my cup, the more I realize that I could spend the rest of my life having mornings just like this one. Sitting next to Josh, staring out at the snow, the sleet, the rain, the sunshine. I’d even happily watch pigs fly as long as I got to do it sitting next to him.

  “This coffee is so good,” he says.

  “It’s nutmeg,” I tell him, deciding that it’s time to spill.

  He looks at me, adorably confused. “What?”

  “You always ask me what I do to the coffee to make it taste so good. I put nutmeg in it.”

  “I know,” he says.

  Here he had me thinking I was keeping some big coffee secret. “Then why do you always say that it’s better when I make it if you knew what I was putting in there?”

  He shrugs, seeming a little embarrassed. “Because you make it. Everything’s better when you’re involved.”

  There’s something so achingly sweet about the sentiment that something inside of me that I’ve been keeping locked up tight just…cracks open. I immediately start crying gasping, incredible sobs.

  For as amazing as Josh is, he’s never had any clue what to do when someone gets hysterical on him. Poor guy. He takes my mug and I just cover my face with my hands because I’m so mortified at myself. I’d been so good at pretending I was okay with things, I’d been so careful not to break down in front of Josh.

  He gets up and grabs some toilet paper, because there are no tissues in this room, then awkwardly starts rubbing my back.

  “I’m fine,” I say, taking a wad of TP to blow my nose. “It just hits me sometimes that you’re leaving. Usually I can swallow it down, but…”

  “I know,” he says.

  “I don’t mean to make you feel bad.” Another blow. “I love you and I want what’s best for you and I know this is it, but it’s just hard.”

  He inches closer, wrapping his arm around me. All the panicked guy awkwardness melts out of him and he turns back into my best friend in the whole world.

  He kisses my hair, then says, “If I had my way, I’d bring you with me. Or make it so I could have this job in Austin, so I could stay. It’s just that nothing like this was available to me there. I wanted to stay for you,” he says, shaking his head. “I almost did.”

  I shake my head. “Going is the right choice.” When I look up at him, he swipes away some of my tears with his thumb. “If you stayed for me, you would’ve wound up resenting me, and I don’t think I could live with that.”

  He kisses my head again. “I could never resent you.”

  It’s a nice thought, but probably not true.

  “We’ve been really lucky the way our lives have worked out, you know? Doing the best things for ourselves has worked out in a way that’s allowed us to stay near each other. College scholarships, our first job offers out of school. We got eight years more than a lot of other people would’ve.”

  He nods. “We did.”

  “I don’t want you to miss out on anything. I would rather miss you than have you miss out on your life.”

  He takes the hand that isn’t gripping a snotty old tissue and runs the pad of his thumb across my knuckles. “I know that. And please, Ames, I need you to understand that when I said that I thought you should try looking for jobs in the city, that was because I thought…I thought it was what was best for you. And also was maybe me being selfish a little bit,” he teases. “I want you out of that job, whether the new one is in Austin, or Portland, or New York. We can make it work no matter where we are.”

  I look up at him, his sweet face so blurry through my tears. He’s looking back all earnest and hopeful.

  “Can we?” I ask. “I don’t want this to be the thing we tell ourselves to make each other feel better, and then drift apart to the point where the next time I see you is at our twenty-year high school reunion and you’re married to, like…Laurel or someone and we have to catch up like a couple of strangers.”

  He lets out a short laugh. “Wow, that was a blast from the past. Any particular reason you have me pairing up with Laurel of all people?”

  I shrug, not really wanting to be honest about it. “Her name keeps popping up in this scenario because she keeps popping up in your life, that’s all.”

  “Laurel was a mistake that I made one too many times, but I’ve learned my lesson there. Should I be worried that you’re gonna show up at our twenty-year reunion with Seth?”

  I shiver at that reminder. “Absolutely not.”

  “Or Brad?”

  He was the longest-term of my past boyfriends and the absolute worst mistake. “Gross. No. Okay, I get your point, we can stop playing this game.”

  He reaches up and gently nudges my head until my gaze meets his. “Ames, there is no universe in which you and I will ever be strangers. You are…you’re…” He glances out the window at the falling snow before looking back at me. “You’re woven into the fabric of my life. You were there when I took my first steps. We ate peas for the first time together.”

  I laugh, thinking at the pictures my mom has of that nightmare. “We smeared them all over each other,” I say. “I never did like green stuff.”

  He laughs, and it’s a bit wet with unshed tears. “We learned how to swim together, we were in our eighth grade play together, you were part of every single Christmas I’ve been alive for. There is no me without you, okay?”

  I cry a little more, but it’s happy this time. The best kind of tears. “Okay.”

  “This isn’t the end of anything, really. It’s just kind of changing into something new. And I know you’re scared of changes, but this one? It’s gonna be good, I can feel it.”

  I’d trust Josh with my life, so I’m trusting him with my heart and all this worry that I’ve been carrying around. He says I don’t need to worry about it, so I’m gonna stop.

  He pulls me in for a hug, and I hang on tight.

  When we part, he cradles my face in his hands and wipes the rest of my tears away. His face brightens, and I know he’s up to something.

  “If you feel like getting dressed, I have an idea for something we can do that’ll cheer you up.”

  I look out at the mounds of snow. I have Halle’s coat, but not much else. “I don’t have any boots or gloves—”

  I see the mischievous kid I’ve gotten in trouble with for years shine through. “Then you’ll be interested in some of the things I found at the general store last night.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, a long-sleeved t-shirt, a sweater, leggings, a pair of jeans, two pairs of socks and some boots Josh picked up for me over at the general store that’s one size too big. I pull on Halle’s coat, wrap a scarf I bought along with me around my neck, then try to zip up. I’m a little overdressed so I have an issue, so Josh takes over and zips me up easily. He also puts a pair of cheap earmuffs over my ears and works a knit cap that’s a little too small for me over my head. Then he pulls up my hood and makes sure everything’s closed up tight.

  “You good?” he asks, before putting on a knit cap of his own. He skipped the earmuffs, unsurprisingly.

  I nod. “I’m good.”

  We head to the door, where he grabs a bag.

  “What’s in there?”

  He grins back at me. “Snowman anatomy.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, not quite sure where this is going. “You mean—”

  He catches me right before I can say penis. “Eyes, nose, mouth. I also got a hat and gloves, because why not.”

  “Wow, you really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

  He shrugs. “I know you like snowmen. I asked the front desk and she said it’s fine so long as we don’t block anyone’s door or car. She suggested a spot, so we’re gonna put him there.”

  I open my mouth to correct him, but he already knows what’s coming.

  “Or her.” />
  I smile, my heart warming as I put on my mittens. “Okay, let’s go.”

  When he opens the door, I have second thoughts about that. It’s bitingly cold, even though the snow has calmed down for now. It’s supposed to pick back up in an hour, but I wish someone could tell the wind to give it a rest.

  Josh and I stake out our snow person’s spot on the far end of the building, right next to our room. Thankfully the awning kept too much from blowing on the sidewalk that runs the perimeter of the motel, so it’s pretty easy for us to walk around. We work together, pushing a mound of snow out of the way so that our new friend won’t be blocking access to the side of the building, in case someone’s nuts enough to want to go back there.

  It takes a little while and I work up a pretty good sweat, but we eventually get a decent-sized plot mostly cleared. Josh starts rolling the snow, strategically plotting his course so that he rolls the snow body parts into the area we cleared. I gotta say, even through about ten layers of clothes, it’s a pleasure watching him work.

  Once we have a bottom, middle and top, I dig in Josh’s bag.

  We break out the bag of buttons and decide that this snow woman—we’ve decided to name her Roberta—is going to have two differently sized eyes. One giant button, one large one. There’s a comically large novelty pencil that I stab directly into her snow face to make a nose. Red pipe cleaners line the most pouty snow lips that have ever been made.

  To top her off, Josh secure’s Roberta’s red knit cap on the top of her head, while I fashionably drape the scarf around her generous neck.

  We stand back and admire our work.

  “She’s beautiful,” I tell him, pulling my phone out of my pocket to snap a pic. I fumble with my mittens on, and Josh grabs the index finger of his gloves between his teeth and frees his hand.

  “Here,” he says, motioning for the phone. “Let me.”

  He takes pictures from a few different angles so we can admire our craftsmanship for years to come. He takes a pic of me and Roberta, then I yank off my glove and get one of the two of them. I scroll through the pictures we’ve taken, just letting the moment settle because we both look so happy, like this roadside stop is the time of our lives.

  I’m in the process of tucking my phone back into my pocket when I get hit in the back of the head with an exploding snowball. I put my mitten back on in a hurry and get nailed with another one.

  Oh, that’s it.

  Josh knows from experience that I’m pretty great at packing snowballs, so I launch one that hits him right in the face. He retaliates by lobbing a direct hit into my right boob, which makes him laugh hysterically as he tries to apologize through it.

  I take off to my left, trudging through a truly remarkable amount of snow. A bomb is lobbed over Josh’s SUV, exploding behind me. I toss one back as I sneak my way around to ambush Josh. I’m tiny and stealthy and manage to get him right when he’s lobbing another snowball back to the area I just left. I get him right in the side of the head with a good one that explodes just right so that he has to blink away the remnants that got in his eyes.

  It’s then that I attack and use all my might to knock him to the ground. Well, into a bank of snow. I die laughing, then he knocks the back of my knee, sending me into a free fall on top of him where we both lay there giggling, just like when we were kids.

  Chapter Six

  We head inside and Josh kindly offers me the shower first. I peel off my wet clothes, telling him that I’ll take care of them when I get out. I spend a little longer in there than I normally would just because the hot water feels so good, but I want to leave Josh with enough that he can enjoy it too.

  I walk out with my wet hair in a bun and my clothes neatly resting by the heater to dry.

  Josh is sitting on the couch reading, so I squeeze his shoulder and offer him a quiet “thanks” before telling him the shower is all his.

  I putter around the room for a few minutes, then notice that the snow’s picked up again. I’m just about to snuggle back in under the blanket to watch it fall when there’s a knock on the door. I open it to find the nice lady from the front desk that helped Josh last night.

  She has short, curly brown hair with a few errant snowflakes in it and her friendly smile exudes the warmth of a roaring fireplace.

  “Hi, you must be Amy,” she says. I’m guessing Josh put my name on the room reservation alongside his.

  “I am,” I reply, reaching out to shake her hand before I realize that both of them are full.

  “I’m Anne. I thought I’d come by and bring you guys some soup for dinner. We’re closing the restaurant early because the cook has to go plow the post office parking lot. I didn’t want you two to starve.”

  I grin at her and reach out for the bag she’s holding out. “Thank you so much, that’s very kind.”

  “I also have a couple of hot chocolates here.” She hands those over too. “I saw you two outside earlier and thought you might need it.”

  “Wow, thank you. How much do we owe you?”

  She waves me away. “Absolutely nothing. It was gonna go to waste anyway.” With a sigh, she looks out at the falling snow. “This is supposed to let up tomorrow early afternoon. You guys should be able to get back on the road the next morning.”

  That’s a relief. We’re still somewhat on our rearranged schedule. Still home for Christmas.

  “Are you two enjoying your stay?”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, very much.”

  She gives me another warm smile. “Good, I’m glad. You two are such a cute couple, I’m happy to make your stay a great one.”

  I should probably just let her mistake slide, but my mouth moves faster than my brain. “Oh, we’re not a couple,” I tell her.

  She looks like that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard in a while. “You’re not?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Josh is my best friend.”

  “Ah. Well, that’s how it started with me and my Mikey. Now we’re best friends for life,” she says with a cute laugh as she flashes her wedding ring.

  Despite the chill, my cheeks heat and my heart does that weird floppy thing in my chest.

  “The restaurant opens back up tomorrow,” she says, realizing that she’s stunned me into silence. “You guys should come down for dinner. We’re doing turkey with the trimmings.”

  “That sounds amazing. We’ll be there.”

  “Night,” she says to me. Then she looks over my shoulder and says, “Night Josh.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Oh, to know how long he’s been standing there.

  I close the door and try to ignore the intense gaze coming from the other side of the room. “She brought us soup for dinner. And hot chocolate.”

  “That was nice of her.”

  “She said we should probably be able to head out the morning after next.”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  Oh. Yeah, so he definitely saw her flash her wedding ring and tell me that she married her best friend. I decide the best thing to do is ignore it because things are definitely weird and I don’t want him to think I got any ideas.

  “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold. This smells delicious.”

  I get antsy around 7:30 and pull out my laptop. Josh is busy enough doing something on his phone that he doesn’t notice what I’m doing. I’m about half an hour into working on a showcase video for my portfolio before it registers that there’s a computer on and in the general vicinity.

  Surprisingly, this place has really great wifi.

  I can feel his disapproving eyes on me, so I put up an argument in my own defense. “I’m not working on anything for Jerrica,” I tell him. “It’s for my portfolio.”

  That perks him up. He walks over and sits down next to me on the couch. I flip up the blanket so that he can get under it.

  “You are?” He glances over my shoulder like he wants to make sure I’m telling the truth.

  “Yeah,” I admit.
“I polished up my resume about a month ago, and uploaded some new pictures and social media posts onto my website just to give people a good example of what it is that I can do.”

  “Maybe next month you’ll put this up, and then the month after you’ll finally start looking for a new job.”

  I give him the side eye. “Your concern doesn’t fall on deaf ears, Josh. I’m just…scared. A lot of people decide to make a change and do it right away. I have to work up to it.”

  “I know,” he sighs, relaxing back into the cushions and propping his feet up on the windowsill. “You always dip your toes into the water maddeningly slow.”

  I laugh; he’s so impatient. “I’m the tortoise and you’re the hare, buddy.”

  I work a little while longer and when I’m finished, I show Josh the video of what amounts to my greatest editing hits. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for, but he gives me his seal of approval anyway, and I’ll take it.

  I close down my Final Cut Pro and pull up my web browser. “Want me to show you some furniture I think you should buy for your place?”

  He perks up. “Yeah.”

  Wanting to live in Manhattan and being somewhat budget limited, Josh found a great deal on a shoebox of an apartment. It’s actually bigger than most of the other ones he saw in that price range, and it has an amazing view. The only issue is that Josh is an all-around big guy, muscular and tall, and it’s just not a lot of space.

  When he first told me he was leaving, sleep was an elusive bastard for me. So, I took all my anger and sadness and channeled it into something productive: putting together a place that I thought he would be comfortable.

  I know Josh better than anyone, and I know without a doubt that he was going to roll up to his unfurnished apartment with an air mattress and call it a day. It’d be months before he’d get around to buying any kind of furnishings if he was left to his own devices.

  Since I won’t be around to nag him about it, I figured I’d preemptively do it.

  “First,” I think you should get a Murphy bed. Not ideal, but if you put a regular bed in there you won’t have anywhere to walk around. This one is kind of expensive, but it looks nice and you can have a thicker mattress on there. I know you like that.”