Snow in Love

by Aimee Friedman

  As we all walked back to the car, purchases in hand, I couldn’t help but think this had been the most fun I’d had in a long time.

  DECEMBER 24, 3:30 P.M.

  “We have to stop on the Strip,” Sawyer said. “Amalie just told me that she’s never been.”

  “You’ve never been to the Las Vegas Strip?” Heather asked me as she drove.

  “No.”

  “You’ve been to Italy but not Vegas,” Sawyer said shaking his head.

  I looked outside. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the tall metallic buildings in the distance like some sort of siren call.

  “Plus,” Wes said. “We can hit up a buffet for dinner.”

  “We don’t have time for a tourist stop, children,” Heather said. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  The guys all erupted in various forms of begging.

  “We have to at least see the Mirage volcano. It spews real lava!” Logan exclaimed.

  “Okay, okay,” Heather said at last. “We’ll get food at a buffet and stop by two hotels. Make them count.”

  DECEMBER 24, 5:15 P.M.

  Our first stop was in front of the Mirage hotel, to see the big volcano. I wasn’t sure what the point of it was, but it was large and there were tons of people looking at it. Then we had a cheap buffet dinner at another hotel, and Sawyer kindly paid for me. Now the five of us stood in front of the Bellagio hotel, waiting for the fountains to start. Apparently every fifteen minutes a song played in time with a water show.

  “I think we should go to Fremont Street if we only get to stop at two places,” Wes said. “It’s way cooler than this.”

  Sawyer held up his hand. “No. Amalie will like this one better.”

  “Fremont Street isn’t even really on the Strip,” Heather pointed out. “We’re not going there tonight. We still have a six-hour drive home and Mom is already mad that we’re so late.”

  “We can leave,” I said.

  “No, we’re here. This is about to start,” Heather said, nodding toward the fountains. “If you like music, you’ll like this.”

  The palm trees that surrounded us were lit up with green-and-white lights and the Bellagio loomed behind the expanse of water. Logan and Wes wandered off to the right, probably settling a dare of some sort, and I glanced over to Sawyer.

  “I feel like I’ve kept you from having fun with your friends the last several days,” I told him. “Go ahead. I’m okay here.”

  “What? Oh, no.” Sawyer shook his head. “I’ve been having fun. I got to hang out with them all weekend.”

  I was about to respond when the first notes of “O Holy Night” rang out. My mouth clamped shut and my chest expanded. The fountain began spraying—two shoots of water, four, then a wave—all lit up white. My eyes watered as I held them open, unblinking, as the show continued. This was my song. I’d sung it in a Christmas program at the local theater a year ago. I loved this song. It made my heart soar.

  All around us, the commotion seemed to pause, and everyone watched and listened.

  This was why I loved music. Not because it brought me attention or won me praise or earned me spots in a showcase, but because it could affect emotions. It could speak to a person’s soul. It spoke to my soul.

  The music built and so did the water, spraying a hundred, two hundred, three hundred feet into the air, probably higher. Goose bumps broke out all along my arms as the music hit its crescendo. And then it was over. The music stopped, the water collapsed back into the pool until it sat like glass, smooth and shiny.

  I waited for the encore, but all was still. I was gripping the sleeve of Sawyer’s shirt and hadn’t even realized it. I let go.

  People started walking again, moving around me. My cheeks were wet and I quickly wiped the tears away. Heather no longer stood at my side; I wondered when she had left.

  Sawyer still hadn’t said anything. Had I completely embarrassed myself? I finally looked at him. “Thank you. That was …”

  “Heavenly?” he asked.

  I laughed. “I was thinking angelic.”

  “I knew you’d like it.”

  “I did. I loved it.”

  “Me too,” he said. We were looking at each other now, neither of us making a motion to move.

  “We should probably go. It’s Christmas Eve,” I said.

  “Yes, we probably should.” He broke eye contact first and looked around for the others. They were up ahead, walking toward the hotel across the street where we’d valeted the car.

  “Oh, you forgot to get a gift at this stop,” I told Sawyer, secretly happy. Maybe I had distracted him. Maybe he was thinking about me more than her at this point.

  “I got something at that place we stopped for the buffet.”

  “Oh … good.” Of course he had.

  “Hey, guys!” Sawyer called, quickening his pace. “Wait up!”

  DECEMBER 25, 12:20 A.M.

  It was after midnight when Heather pulled up in front of my house. Christmas morning.

  “Thanks so much for letting me crash, everyone,” I said, looking around the car. “And, Heather, thank you for driving.”

  “Of course,” Heather replied, turning in her seat. She gave me a warm, genuine smile. “It was great to meet you, Amalie. Come visit me and Sawyer sometime during break. We need a road trip reunion.”

  “I’d love that,” I said, meaning it.

  “Maybe Sawyer’s crush can join us,” Heather added.

  I smiled at Sawyer, who stuck his tongue at his sister. “Fingers crossed,” I said. I waved good-bye to Wes and Logan, who waved back. Then I hopped out of the car and heard Sawyer follow after me.

  “I’ll walk you,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said as I retrieved my backpack.

  “You have a key?” he asked.

  “I’ll go in through the garage.” I slung my backpack over one shoulder and walked over to the keypad next to the garage door. I entered the code and the door rolled up noisily. I looked at Sawyer. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Just don’t look up your flight info online and see that your plane beat us.”

  “Did it?”

  “No, of course not.” He gave me his famous smile, letting me know that the plane had, in fact, beaten us.

  “Either way,” I said. “I’m glad I did this.”

  “Me too.”

  The sound of a car window rolling down preceded Wes yelling out, “Come on, Sawyer! It’s late.”

  “Good luck,” I said. “Are you going to give her the gifts you picked out tomorrow? Or later today, I mean.”

  Sawyer tilted his head to one side. “Do you think I should? It’s Christmas Day. Would I be disrupting family time?”

  “I think you should. Just don’t spend all day there.”

  “Okay, good advice.”

  “I give great advice,” I said.

  “Merry Christmas, Amalie.”

  “I got you something, by the way,” I added, my heartbeat quickening.

  Sawyer frowned. “You got me something? For what?”

  “I mean, it’s not much but your sister said your family always exchanges gifts on Christmas Eve and I saw this at our Mesquite stop and I don’t have a lot of money so I couldn’t get you something bigger or better or—”

  “Amalie.”

  I stopped.

  He held out his hands. “Are you going to give me my super-cheap gift that needed a million disclaimers?”

  I pulled the bookmark out of my back pocket and put it in his hands. Sawyer was quiet as he studied it. The bookmark had a picture of a bird on it, which I selfishly hoped would make him think of me every time he used it. Beneath the bird in scrolling script was the Aristophanes quote: By words the mind is winged. “Because you like to read …”

  Before he could say anything, I pulled him into a hug. I closed my eyes, my chin on his shoulder. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not but it felt like he quickly kissed my temple.

  “Merry Christmas,” I whisper
ed. Then I rushed into the garage and through the door leading to the house. Once I was inside, I pressed my back against the wall and tried to listen for a shutting car door or an engine driving away. I couldn’t hear anything, but when I cracked open the door and looked, the SUV was gone. I let out a pent-up breath and pushed the button to close the garage door. Then I gathered up my courage to face being home.

  DECEMBER 25, 12:30 A.M.

  The hallway was dark, but I could see lights from the Christmas tree glowing from the living room. That holiday smell I’d come to love assaulted all my senses and I almost cried. But I kept quiet. It would be disorienting and probably not productive to wake my parents up tonight.

  I crept up to my brother’s room on the second floor. His room was right next to mine. He was only two years younger than I was, and we were close, but apparently not close enough for me to confide in him during the last several months in Italy. I stopped at his doorway, ready to knock, but I changed my mind. I needed sleep.

  DECEMBER 25, 8:00 A.M.

  The first thing that woke me was the smell of bacon. I knew that my dad, the morning person, was up first to cook us a big breakfast before we filled our stomachs with sugary treats. I sat up in my bed. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep but I was immediately awake.

  But I waited. I waited until I heard my mom and dad talking in the kitchen. I waited until I heard plates and cups being pulled out of cupboards and my brother’s door open and shut. And then I waited another five minutes before I slowly walked down the stairs.

  When I arrived in the kitchen my family was eating. My brother saw me first and started choking on orange juice. While my dad was patting his back, my mom noticed me. She dropped her fork.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said.

  “Amalie?” Dad jumped out of his chair and crushed me in a hug. My mom and brother followed.

  The happy reunion was soon interrupted with questions. Lots of questions. Some I had answers for, some I didn’t. It all came down to the final question. “So you’re dropping out?” It was asked by my mom and laced with lots of disappointment.

  I thought her tone and her question would make me defensive, would make me unsure of myself again. But I didn’t waver this time.

  “Yes, Mom.” I nodded. “I lost myself there. I was constantly comparing myself to everyone and it was all about the competition and was less and less about the music. I’ll get a job, I’ll pay back the money you spent on me. But I need to be here now. I need to rediscover everything I love about music. If this would’ve happened to me in college, it might’ve thrown me completely off course. But I have time and now I have this experience. I’m going to be okay.”

  “You’re going to be okay?” Mom said.

  I nodded, knowing it was true.

  Mom burst into tears and hugged me again. “I missed you so much, Amalie. We all missed you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was going on.”

  “I kept it from you.”

  “Oh no!” she said, suddenly sounding horrified.

  “What?” I asked.

  “We mailed your Christmas! Your Christmas is in Italy now. We have nothing for you here.”

  “Mom.” I took her by the shoulders. “You’re all here. That’s all I want.”

  Apparently that’s exactly what every parent wants to hear because both she and my father hugged me again. Then we talked and caught up while we ate breakfast.

  “How did you earn money to get home anyway?” Mom asked while I was scarfing down Dad’s delicious food. “I know that’s not a cheap plane ticket.”

  “I gave voice lessons on the side for a couple months with some high school students in Milan,” I explained, blushing.

  “Amalie, you know that’s not allowed,” Mom said.

  “You’re right, I could’ve gotten kicked out.”

  She gave a laugh/sigh.

  “I know it’s super exciting that Amalie is home and everything,” Jonathan said, getting to his feet. “But unlike some people, I actually have presents to open. So …”

  My mom smacked my brother’s arm playfully. “Jon, we haven’t seen your sister in months.”

  “It’s fine, Mom.” I laughed. “Let the boy open his presents.”

  “Oh, what,” Jonathan said. “You’re super old and mature now?”

  “Super.”

  We went into the living room and sat by the tree. I watched my brother open his gifts and it was nice. Fun, even. I glanced at my phone, not sure exactly what I was looking for. The only people that knew I was home—besides the people in this house—didn’t have my number.

  Why hadn’t I given them my number?

  A few hours later, my whole family was in the kitchen; Mom and I were putting wrapping paper in a garbage bag while Dad and Jonathan washed the dishes. Then the doorbell rang.

  I looked at my brother and wiggled my eyebrows. “Is that your girlfriend?”

  “We broke up.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, sis, why didn’t you tell me anything?” He smiled at me and went to answer the door.

  A moment later, my brother came back in the room and said to me, “You’re back one minute and already more popular than me?”

  “Someone is here for me?” My heart skipped a beat.

  “Just someone delivering your luggage.”

  I punched his arm several times while he laughed. I didn’t realize the airlines delivered luggage. And I had no idea they delivered on Christmas Day.

  “Make sure you tip them,” my mom called as I headed toward the door. “I have some cash in my purse.”

  I changed direction, grabbed a bill from Mom’s wallet, and then rushed to the door. “Sorry, I—” I stopped dead in my tracks. Sawyer stood at the door, my very large suitcase in front of him.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile. “I thought you might want this.” He nodded toward my suitcase. “I see what you meant about your whole life being in here.”

  “How did you … ?”

  “I have connections at the airport.”

  That’s right. His dad was a pilot. “Thank you. My mom said to tip you.” I held out the cash and he laughed but refused it.

  I took the handle of my suitcase and wheeled it into the entryway, then gestured for him to come inside.

  He glanced into the house behind me. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No, come in.”

  He stepped inside and shut the door. “I have something else for you,” he said. He pulled a box out from behind him that I hadn’t realized he was holding. It was shoebox size and wrapped in blue paper with silver bells on it.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, surprised. “Were you feeling guilty that I got you a ninety-nine-cent gift and you got me nothing?”

  “Yes, totally guilty.”

  “Okay, I’m going to open this and then you’re going to tell me how your other gift-giving went today.” I led him to the front room off the entryway. The room we barely used because my mom liked to keep it clean for guests that rarely stopped by. I sat on the couch and Sawyer began looking at pictures on the wall.

  I carefully peeled back the wrapping, then lifted the lid off the box. Inside were five small, individually wrapped gifts. I unwrapped the first one. It was a snow globe that said Breckinridge, Colorado, across the base. Inside was a little skier going down a hill. Had he picked something up at the first stop for me, too? The next present was the silver bird ornament from our second stop. I gasped and looked up. Sawyer was standing there, staring at me, a nervous expression on his face.

  I was confused. He’d decided not to give these things to his crush but to me instead? When he didn’t say anything, I tentatively opened the next package. It was a pack of gum. I laughed a little. I knew he wouldn’t be able to find anything in that seedy motel lobby. I stopped and put the box on the couch next to me.

  “Sawyer.”

  “Amalie.” He swallowed hard and started again.
“Amalie. I’ve been thinking about you for the last three years. Please don’t find me creepy,” he said, quoting Wes from the car.

  My thoughts raced. Had Sawyer really been talking about me that whole time, or was he just being funny? “But—but you said you’d talked to your crush before and …”

  “Once,” he said. “Last year, at Sarah Farnsworth’s graduation party. You were walking down the stairs into the backyard. I was standing in line to get a hamburger. I said, Hey, I almost wore my yellow sundress too. I’m glad I didn’t. You didn’t think I was very funny.”

  My mind went back to that night, to his face and smile. I had thought he was just friendly with everyone. “I’d forgotten about that. I did think you were funny. I was just surprised you were talking to me.” I shook my head. “You’re right, that was you.”

  “I know that was me. I see our school interactions were equally as memorable.”

  “I remember we said hi a couple times in the hallway at school. But at the rental place, you didn’t even know my name.”

  He laughed. “I knew your name, Amalie. You have to give a nervous guy a second to regain his cool. I hadn’t seen you in months and suddenly there you were, so chill and beautiful and I wanted you to drive home with us and my brain was working on how I could make that happen.”

  I was reeling. I hadn’t expected this at all. “But when we stood under that mistletoe and I kissed you, you pulled away.”

  “I didn’t want you to kiss me because of a dare.”

  The dare had just been my excuse. I wanted to kiss him. “I’m sorry, I …” was overwhelmed and still processing everything.

  “You said this gift thing might work,” Sawyer said, clasping his hands together. “Is it not working? Too much? I promise I haven’t been obsessing over you for three years.”

  “No, I mean, it’s not that. I’m sorry I never …”

  “Gave me the time of day?”

  I laughed. “Yes? I thought you were in a different league.”

  “I am. A lower one.”

  “No.” Why was I still sitting down? Why was he still standing up? We seemed to both think this thought at the same time because I stood and he took a step toward me and then suddenly we were close. Face to face.