Let It Snow

by Paul Hina

paths. At their age, they knew that nothing was certain. They agreed that it wasn't practical to let their college years pass them by for a love that was thousands of miles away.

  So, they began to date other people. But these dates only led to brief, shallow relationships. It's not as if any of these dates lacked the depth of emotional possibility. On the contrary, it was Max and Annie who were the shallow ones. They had made themselves emotionally unavailable to anyone else. The biggest fault for everyone Annie dated was that they weren't Max. For Max, no girl was Annie. It wouldn't take long for anyone they were with to know that their hearts belonged somewhere else.

  Even if they were in the middle of a date, they'd drop what they were doing to take the other's call, and, though they were cognizant of how awkward it was to talk about an ex on a date, they would do it without hesitation. They couldn't help showing their disinterest in pursuing anything substantive. It was as if these dates were nothing more than a personal test. They were testing the true resolve of the long distance connection they had been building.

  So, after their third year away from each other, it was clear that they couldn't continue to deny what was between them any longer. Max had set a goal to graduate after the fall semester, and they had both agreed that he would move into her tiny, studio apartment in Boston.

  They would finally be together again.

  It was time.

  Sitting in the corner of Eric and Annie's living room, Tim is growing accustomed to Michael's stare. He's doing his best to avoid looking in Michael's direction, but it's difficult to ignore the strangeness of his persistence. Tim stares at the Christmas lights, looks out the window, or speaks to Wendy when she asks him one of the many inane personal questions she keeps asking. He nods along to the jazz in the room, taps his fingers on his knee, anything to pretend that he's not bothered by Michael's non-stop glaring.

  Tim knows that Michael is romantically interested in Holly. That's why she asked him to come with her tonight. She didn't want to be stuck with him on her own, having to endure his awkward, flirty conversation. She just doesn't have the heart to tell him that she's not emotionally ready to be involved with anyone right now.

  This isn't the first "date" Tim's been on with Holly over the past several years. After John—his childhood friend and Holly's husband—shot himself nearly four years ago, Tim has always tried to make himself available to her whenever she's needed him.

  Immediately after John's death, he stayed with her during those first dreary days and weeks. She just couldn't stand to be alone in their house. And who could blame her? She was the one who found John's body in the garage. And, outside of the rescue workers that answered her 911 call that night, only she knows what he looked like after the shot, and he's certain it's an image she'll never erase.

  Holly, Tim, and many of John and Holly's assorted family and friends spent the days after the funeral gathering John's stuff from the house, deciding who would take what, and what would be given to charity. Then everyone pitched in to help Holly pack her own stuff. There was never any doubt that she would move, and everyone seemed to understand why she wanted out of the house as quickly as possible. It was pretty obvious from her emotional condition during these early days that it wouldn't be realistic for her to continue living in that house.

  After she moved, and was safe in her new apartment, Tim made it a point to try and give her some distance. Even though it was clear she was still hurting, he felt that her obsessive need to be unalone was only delaying the hard work of coming to terms with John's death, and with accepting this new life she was suddenly facing. And, for his own selfish reasons, Tim wanted some space to deal with his own shock, his own sadness. His best friend had just died, and he wanted to deal with the death of his friend without having to worry about Holly all the time.

  It wasn't until later that he realized that helping her was the best way for him to deal with losing John.

  But it didn't matter how much distance he tried to give her. She just couldn't be alone. Months went by with friends, mostly Tim, babysitting Holly. Eventually, her mother came to stay with her, but it took nearly a year before she was able to get back to her life again.

  Still, even as Tim met someone and started to build his own life, Holly would often call on him from time to time to accompany her to a friend's wedding, a faculty party at the university, or for something like this dinner party tonight.

  But, from the start, tonight seemed different from all those other nights. When she was telling him about Michael, she was smiling. He hadn't seen her smile like that—an easy smile, not forced—for a very long time. In a way, he got the impression that she wanted Tim to believe she was laughing Michael off, but instead he got the impression that Michael's shameless affection for her only endeared him to her more deeply.

  And he noticed that she seemed uncharacteristically nervous as they got closer to Eric and Annie's house, which struck Tim as strange since she'd been a close friend of theirs since she'd started working as Eric's assistant several years ago.

  Also, Tim noticed that she cared more about her appearance tonight than at any other time he's been around her. And Holly is a naturally beautiful woman—very beautiful. Tim's seen her at her worst and at her best, and, though she'd never know it, there's never been a time when she wasn't the prettiest girl in the room. In fact, if Tim thought for one second that John would've been okay with it, or if he thought his advances wouldn't have creeped her out, he would've made a pass at her long ago. It's not as if he hasn't wanted to, or that he hasn't fallen in love with her a thousand different times in a thousand different ways, but he's always known that she'd never be his. She'd never look at him the same way she looked at John, and even if she could, he would always be too connected to John for her to love him without the memory of John casting a shadow over them.

  But, tonight, she was obviously being beautiful for someone else. She must've checked her hair and make-up a dozen times in the car's visor mirror. It got to the point where even she became self-conscious about it, glancing over to see if Tim was noticing how often she was checking her hair and face. And he can't say if the dress she's wearing tonight is new or not, but it certainly looks new. And she's wearing it well.

  So, if he didn't know better, he'd think she was trying to impress this Michael guy, and that she only invited Tim to act as a cover in case she finds that she's not ready to take that final step. And Tim's just as afraid as she is that she's not ready to take that step.

  But sometimes the moment chooses for you, ready or not.

  From Tim's perspective, Michael seems like the perfect guy to bring her out of her rut. She needed someone who was willing to play the long game with her, which is exactly what Michael's been doing. She needed someone who would patiently pull her from what remains of her grief, and Michael had the look of someone who would wait as long as it took to get what he wanted.

  So, as much as Michael is staring at him like he's the bad guy, Tim's rooting for him.

  "I think we're ready," Annie says from the dining room.

  "Okay, dinner," Eric says to everyone in the living room.

  Annie is standing at the doorway to the dining room waiting for everyone. Holly and Amy are by the table behind her waiting to show everyone where to sit.

  "So, we're not waiting for Max?" Eric asks, as he passes Annie.

  "We did wait. I gave him five minutes."

  "Do you think we could…?" Eric starts to ask, but stops once he sees Annie approach Michael.

  "Michael, I'm sorry about Holly," she says, quietly, leaning near him, her hand flat on the front of his shoulder.

  Michael is taken aback by the tenderness of the gesture, worried that it expresses an empathy too strong to be anything other than pity.

  "I honestly didn't know she was bringing anyone," Annie continues. "You shouldn't worry about it though. It's not what it seems."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "I'm going to sit you next
to Amy," she says, ignoring him.

  Michael looks over at Amy, she's already sitting down, looking at Michael, a dumb smile on her face.

  "You'll like her. She's fun," Annie says.

  Again, Annie's mistaking him for someone who is attracted to fun. "Why do you keep—?" he starts to ask, but is interrupted by the doorbell.

  Annie's face freezes, and to Michael she looks genuinely frightened.

  "Are you alright?" he asks.

  She doesn't answer him.

  She takes a step away from Michael and toward the hallway. She can see Max's silhouette through the frosted glass of the front door. She tries to compose herself, but her heart is exploding in her chest. She tries to catch her breath before she turns back toward the dining room.

  "Sorry, Eric, could you get that? I just remembered I forgot to grab the rolls from the kitchen," she says, not waiting for his answer before she starts moving toward the kitchen. And, though she feels as though everyone's looking at her, and that she's moving as if she were walking in mud, she makes an effort not to look at anyone as she passes through the dining room. She's embarrassed, worried that her strange behavior is betraying her true feelings, afraid that the blood of the blush she feels might actually be painted on her face.

  Of course, she knows that she left the rolls in the kitchen on purpose. When Amy tried to grab