Let It Snow

by Paul Hina

you’re anxiously waiting for someone too," he says.

  "Yeah, well, I'm just anxious for everyone to get here."

  "Don't throw many parties?"

  "Nope. This is our first. I mean, we've had friends over, as you know, but we've never had more than one or two over at once."

  "Does that make you nervous?"

  "Do I seem nervous?"

  "You do, actually."

  "Yeah, I guess I am a little nervous."

  "Why? You know everyone who's coming, right?"

  "Yeah, it's just that… No, you're right. I shouldn't be nervous."

  "I didn't say you shouldn't be nervous. I asked why you were nervous."

  "She's nervous because I've invited my brother," Eric says from behind them. He's entered the living room with what Annie is sure is his second glass of wine. The glass he's holding is more full than the one she gave him a couple minutes ago.

  "And," Annie says, "it was a last minute thing—very last minute."

  "What? You don't get along with him?" Michael asks.

  "On the contrary," Eric says.

  "Eric, that's enough."

  "Sorry I asked," Michael says, feeling that tension from a few minutes ago rising up again. All of a sudden, he's starting to wonder if this was the best night for Eric and Annie to have a dinner party. Neither of them seem quite like themselves. "I didn't realize it was—"

  "Don't be sorry," Annie says. "It's just that we haven't seen him in a long time. This is the first time he's been back in town for years."

  "Oh," Michael says, letting it go at that, though he senses that there's more under the surface, something that he assumes won't remain below the surface for the remainder of the evening.

  Michael turns back to the window just in time to see a red Subaru turn into the driveway. Michael can't see who's inside, only knows that it's not Holly's car.

  "Who's that?" he asks.

  "That's Amy and Wendy," Annie says. "You've never met them?"

  "I don't think so."

  "You'll like them. They're fun." Annie says, moving toward the front door.

  Michael stands there, waiting, wondering what it is about him that makes Annie believe that he likes people who are fun. He's found that people that other people describe as fun are much too gregarious for him to enjoy. He likes his people contemplative, not superficial. Introverted, not extroverted. Expansive, but not needy.

  "Hello," Annie says from the hall, greeting Amy and Wendy. "Glad you could make it."

  Michael has turned away from the window and is looking toward the living room's entryway, awaiting the always awkward introductions. He hears their voices bounce off one another in the hall, but can't quite make out what they're saying. One voice overlaps another in that familiar, playful way of friends who are genuinely happy to see one another, like some decompression of nervous energy.

  Michael looks over at Eric, and he's leaning against the wall next to the hall, staring off into space. He seems oblivious to the fact that he's hosting a party that's happening right now.

  But then Eric seems to come alive. A smile stretches out on his face. Michael can't quite gauge the level of his smile's sincerity, but it was fully prepared as Amy and Wendy entered the room.

  "Eric," Amy says, moving to embrace him. "You look well."

  "It's nice to see you," he says. "And Wendy."

  "Eric," Wendy says, simply acknowledging him with a nod and a nice smile.

  Annie follows in behind them, and she has that socially obligatory look in her eye. Michael can tell it's coming.

  "Amy, have you met Michael?"

  "Of course. Hello, Michael."

  "Amy," Michael says and nods, playing the part of someone that's happy to see someone else. And he does recognize her. Amy works somewhere in the student center. He's often seen her in Eric's office talking with Holly. He's never really spoken to her, other than a polite nod of recognition from time to time, and he's embarrassed that he'd never learned her name until now.

  "Wendy, this is Michael," Annie says, "Michael teaches world religions at the university."

  Wendy walks toward him, her hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, Michael."

  "And you," Michael says, clutching her oddly firm hand. He hears his voice rattle in his head like an echo, and he's worried that it's entered some strange, formal mode. He often unconsciously enters this mode—speaking in a tone absent of personality—when he meets someone new.

  "World religions, huh? That sounds interesting. Any religion you teach specifically?" Wendy asks.

  "Mostly, I teach Judaism, along with a class on the Old Testament," he says, and it occurs to him that Wendy is one of those people who attempts to minimize the awkward silences after an introduction through curious inquiry, and she seems good at it. She's picked a professional question, the kind of question—lightly personal—that will often put a person at ease. Unless, of course, a person is uneasy about their profession. It just so happens that Michael's profession is one of the few things about himself that doesn't make him uneasy.

  "Would you like me to take your coats?" Annie asks, motioning toward Amy and Wendy with outstretched hands. They hand her their coats, and then Annie turns toward Michael. "I forgot to grab your coat earlier, would you mind?"

  "No, please," Michael says, taking off his coat, which he hadn't even realized he was still wearing. No wonder he was so warm and sweaty.

  Annie takes the coats and leaves the room.

  "So, did you hear about the storm?" Wendy asks.

  "I heard that it was supposed to pass us to the north," Eric says.

  "I hope so," Amy says. "They said it could bring eight more inches."

  "Holly's here," Annie says from the hallway.

  Michael take an abrupt step toward the hall, but stops himself. Wendy looks over at him curiously. He takes a step back, and tries to calm himself, feeling the fool.

  "And who's this?" Michael hears Annie ask, hardly able to contain the surprise in her voice.

  Michael swears he hears a male voice, and he thinks for a second that… No. He must be mistaken. It can't possibly be what he thinks. Holly couldn't have brought a date. This was supposed to be his big chance with her. This was going to be their night.

  A wave of panic flashes over him, and he's afraid it's a look he's not good at hiding. He looks over at Eric, who was already looking at Michael, but then looked away as quickly as Michael caught him looking. It was a pitying look on Eric's face.

  Then it is true. She's brought a date, and Michael is utterly humiliated.

  He tries to take a deep breath and reassess the situation. Not everyone here knows that she was coming here to meet him. Eric knows. Annie knows. He thought Holly knew, but there must've been some kind of miscommunication. Something must've gotten lost in translation. Holly's never struck him as someone who would be so unashamedly cruel.

  Michael eases back from the small group in the living room, and finds himself sinking into a chair near the window. He feels as though the whole room in sinking toward him, like he is the point on a cone of gravity that pulls everything into him.

  By now, Amy and Wendy are milling around the edges of the room, talking to one another about Eric and Annie's decor: the Christmas tree, books, paintings, private photos. And, yet, Michael worries that their mannerisms betray them, and that they, too, can sense the tension brought on by his humiliation. Then it occurs to Michael that he is not the gravity in the room. He is the anti-gravity, pushing everyone away. Even Eric is avoiding looking at him, keeping his eyes on the living room's entry way, waiting for Annie and Holly and Holly's date.

  Michael turns to look out the window again, trying to get a new perspective on things. His heart is beating hard in his chest. He can feel his pulse bouncing in his throat. The prospects for the rest of the evening have taken such a whiplash-turn for the worse that he's already mapping out possible plans of escape.

  If Annie hadn't just taken his coat, he could just sne
ak away and exit through the back door. He could easily explain everything to Eric later.

  But who needs a coat? He'll just leave. He'll say he needs to go to the bathroom, and then he'll let himself out and drive home.

  But Amy and Wendy are parked behind him in the driveway.

  He's trapped.

  His heart beats faster. He's taking slow, deliberate breaths now, internally repeating the 'in' with each inhale, and 'out' with every exhale. He starts counting the Christmas lights from their reflection in the window— anything to move his mind away. He tries to fit his face with its most natural expression, though it's difficult when he's become so hyper-aware of his face.

  "Holly, I think you know everyone," Annie says as they enter the living room.

  Holly gives a small wave of acknowledgement to everyone, and her eyes quickly pass over Michael. She surrenders the smallest smile as her glance passes by him, and he can't ignore the thrill he feels just in seeing her. He's been looking forward to this dinner since it was arranged a couple weeks ago. And, since they've been on holiday break, it's been several weeks since he last saw her. So, it's not as if he's been able to sneak into Eric's office to steal a minute with her, as he's grown accustomed to doing most days.

  Suddenly, though, he worries that he was wrong about her. That smile of hers was its own admission of guilt. It was a tiny apology. She's either deliberately avoiding the situation with him, or she really is just a callous person.

  But she is beautiful.

  As Annie takes her coat, Michael can't keep his eyes off her. His panic, his humiliation, disappears when he watches her shoulders rise and dip from her