The Snowball Fight
Shane thought his father looked ridiculous. He had so many clothes on he looked like Humpty Dumpty. His arms flapped at his sides with the clumsiness of a penguin’s wings. He had a red and blue woollen hat pulled down to his eyebrows and a scarf covering his neck and mouth.
‘I’m ready,’ he huffed, in a muffled voice. ‘Let’s go to the ski hire place and get started.’ He put his sunglasses on and headed for the door.
‘Hang on,’ Jenny growled. ‘Shane and I aren’t ready yet! We need our coats and gloves from the car.’
Grumbling, Rob set off to get them. The way he was dressed made it look as though he was heading off on some great Antarctic expedition. With his sunglasses on only his cheeks were visible. He didn’t look at all comfortable as he crunched through the snow towards the car.
Jenny and Shane were watching him. ‘How on earth he thinks he’s going to ski with all that on I’ll never know,’ said Jenny, shaking her head. ‘I think it’s going to be fun to watch, though,’ she grinned. ‘Don’t you?’
Shane grinned. ‘Yeah, as long as he doesn’t hurt himself, Mum.’
‘Huh! He’s got so much padding on he can’t possibly hurt himself.’ She laughed. Shane laughed along with her.
They were still chuckling when Rob returned. ‘Come on! Put your coats on and let’s go,’ he grumbled.
When Shane walked outside for the first time he felt as though he’d walked into a Christmas card. The wind had dropped to a gentle breeze and the odd snowflake fluttered around his face. People were skiing and riding chairlifts. The fresh snow sparkled despite the grey, overcast conditions. Shane walked off the path into the snow and felt it crunch under his feet. He looked back at the deep footprints he’d left behind. Then he took larger steps, stretching his legs as far as they would go. He jumped, skipped, hopped and again looked back at the pattern. He wondered how long his prints would stay there. Would they melt or fill up with snow?
His father joined in the game. He was in a good mood: playful and silly. ‘Watch this one, Shane, watch this one.’ He galloped into the deepest snow, lost his balance and fell over! ‘Oomph!’
Shane tossed his head back and laughed. ‘Yeah, good one, Dad!’ he squealed. ‘I bet you can’t do that again!’
‘I bet he can,’ laughed Jenny.
Sitting in the snow giggling, Rob looked more like Humpty Dumpty than ever. He got back on his feet and brushed himself down. ‘That wasn’t what I was going to show you,’ he said, adjusting his scarf and hat. ‘You shouldn’t laugh at others’ misfortunes. I could’ve hurt myself.’
‘Not with all that padding on,’ Shane cried. ‘Hey, Mum?’
‘No sir, nothing could penetrate that lot.’
Rob changed his tack. ‘Right! I’ll teach you two to laugh at me.’
With that he bent over and scooped a clump of snow into his hand, patted it quickly into a ball and threw it at his tormentors. Screaming, they ducked for cover.
‘Right, Dad! You’re going to get it now,’ Shane yelled as he dug excitedly into the snow. ‘Come on, Mum, let’s get the big puffball.’
And so the snow fight began. Snowballs of all shapes and sizes whizzed through the air shedding clumps of snow shrapnel as they flew. The snowballs themselves rarely hit their target but the snow shrapnel was deadly!
The Hamiltons laughed, sometimes weakly, sometimes hysterically, but always loudly. David heard them and came to watch them. Their laughter made him feel good inside. It was a feeling better than all his tricks, an earthly feeling. He moved closer, just beneath the cloud blanket. The odd cloud brushed over him, tickling him gently with a chilling softness. He gazed down at the small antlike figures. He wasn’t close enough. He had to be there in the fight, in the fun with his family but he knew it wasn’t the time to make contact with Shane so, staying invisible, he flew down to his family.
His mother was laughing hard as Shane pounded his father with a barrage of well-directed snowballs. Rob was battling awkwardly with his clumsiness, waving his arms about hopelessly and trying to stay on his feet. As playful as ever, and with just the right measure of devilry angels are allowed, David joined in the fun.
He redirected snowballs that were well off target and claimed those hits as his own. He let some of them pass through him, melting them just a little, just enough to make them sloshy, so that they splattered on impact! He zapped everyone with the odd energy ball to keep the game going longer and he ran from side to side to even things up. But he spent most of the time helping his embattled father defend himself. There was a frenzy of scooping, digging and patting. The battle raged.
‘It’s not fair,’ Rob whined. ‘Two against one.’
‘Don’t be a whinger, Dad,’ Shane cried between giggles.
David sped to his father’s aid by melting the next snowball he threw and directing it straight at Shane’s face.
Shane saw it coming but no matter how he ducked, the sloshy ball was not going to miss its target. To Shane’s complete astonishment the snowball followed his every move. Left, right, up, down. It was like a heat-seeking missile!
When it hit Shane, it sploshed into his face in a sloshy explosion. It didn’t have the sting the others had had. David spun himself in mid air and laughed. He enjoyed that. Shane wiped his wet face with the sleeve of his coat, all the time amazed at his father’s incredible skill. His eyes flickered open to the sight of his laughing father holding his hands high above his head.
‘I surrender! I surrender!’ Shane called.
In a tumbling pile of laughing bodies the Hamiltons sat and recalled the highlights of the great snow fight. David sat with them, pretending he was part of the conversation.
‘What about that sloshy one I got Shane with?’ he said to the space between himself and his mother.
He stopped and stared at her. A strand of hair cut across her red cheek. Her shoulders shook as she laughed at something Shane said. She was looking down at him. David knew that look. The way she held her head, her smile, her eyes … her soft warm eyes, the colour of mud. He slowly reached across the space between them and rested his hand on her shoulder. She felt the warmth through her bulky clothes and the distinct shape of a hand. She looked smartly at her shoulder, then rubbed it curiously.
David smiled at her and said, ‘I’ve got to go, Mum.’
Jenny looked across the snow, then skywards, all the time gently rubbing her shoulder. The warmth faded as David drifted away.
When they could all stand, the Hamiltons wandered off together towards the resort office, chatting and laughing. The office was a large open room, mostly glass and polished timber. The walls were covered with information boards and spectacular photographs of all the snow sports and some champions going through their paces. Jenny went straight up to the information desk.
Shane and his father strolled around looking at the posters. Rob pointed to a skier jumping from a huge cliff and heading towards a steep slope below.
‘I used to be able to do that,’ he announced boastfully. Then he stopped and looked more closely at the poster. He pushed his face right up to it and squinted as if straining his eyes. ‘Hang on!’ he said. ‘That is me!’
Shane pushed his father away. ‘Give me a break will you, Dad?’
Rob grinned broadly. ‘You wait till I get on those skis; I’ll show you a thing or two, mate. You just wait and see. I’ll be zipping down those slopes with speed and grace that will stun you.’ He began to bend his knees and tilt his body. He looked like Aunt Sue demonstrating her role as a ski instructor. ‘I can twist and turn with the best of them,’ he said, pushing his arms backwards and forwards. ‘The last time I came I even entered the slalom event.’
‘What’s that, Dad?’ asked Shane, checking the face of the skier in the poster.
‘You have to weave your way between those poles they put in the snow. It’s a sort of obstacle course, I suppose.’
‘Oh yeah! I know what you mean.’ Shane turned aw
ay from the poster convinced the skier jumping off the cliff wasn’t his father. It was a woman.
Jenny returned with a handful of pamphlets and papers. She looked at Rob who was still practising his slalom movements. ‘What are you doing, Rob?’
‘Practising my slalom skiing. I was in an event here once.’
Jenny shook her head and sighed. ‘Just get used to being on skis again before you go off attempting any of that fancy stuff.’
Shane started tugging at the papers in his mother’s hands. ‘What have you got there, Mum?’
‘I’ve got the vouchers for the ski hire, toboggan hire and the chairlifts. I’ve got the weather reports for today and tomorrow. I’ve got a list of social events happening around the resort this week. I’ve got the maps, helpful hints, everything we need, I think.’
‘Can I see the snow reports?’ asked Rob, holding out his hand. He was always interested in the weather. Whenever it came on the radio or tv everyone had to be deathly quiet so he could hear it. He needed to know if he was going to freeze or roast. As soon as it finished, he’d repeat it to them.
It was as if he set his moods by it. The prospect of a miserable day was always announced with morbid doom and gloom. On the other hand, a spring day of bright sunshine and warmth was announced with exuberance.
Shane watched his father’s face as he read the weather report for the snowfields.
He was frowning, which wasn’t a good sign. ‘What does it say, Dad? Any more snow coming?’
‘Hmm, it says there’s a fair chance of a storm and maybe even a blizzard.’ He looked up from the report. ‘But not until tomorrow. So we’ve got a full day’s skiing today and we’ll probably get most of the day in tomorrow, too, I’d say. The storm isn’t expected until late. So let’s go!’
Shane was keen to start. He couldn’t wait to get up on skis and slide down those slopes. He didn’t imagine he would have much difficulty. It looked pretty easy to him. Just slip on the skis, stand up and off you go. He couldn’t understand why anyone would need all these ski instructors. Anyway, he was lucky. He had his dad if he had any problems. Anyone who could do slalom must know what they were doing.
What Rob hadn’t told Shane was that he had entered the slalom for beginners on the most gentle slopes where the average speed in competition was slower than walking pace. He also hadn’t mentioned that he didn’t make it — he didn’t even get past the second pole. In fact, he’d knocked it over!
Rob must’ve forgotten all that, because he described a completely different race to Shane on the way to the ski-hire shop. Shane arrived at the shop with the image of his father hurtling down slopes at tremendous speeds, jumping, bouncing and weaving his way masterfully through a maze of bright coloured poles.
The ski-hire shop was crowded but the Hamiltons were fitted out eventually. Carrying their skis under their arms, they set off to tackle the slopes.
Rob was full of instructions and advice. ‘Now when we get to the slopes, just wait for me. I’ll get myself organised first since I’m the most experienced skier. Then you two can get ready and I’ll give you some pointers. Okay?’ Rob found it hard to contain his enthusiasm. He rubbed his hands together. ‘This is going to be great fun! I can’t wait!’
Skiing
Rob had taken charge. He was standing on his skis lecturing on the finer points of skiing. ‘Now make sure you keep your knees bent and point you toes inwards, like this.’ Clumsily he placed his skis in the correct position. He wiggled his bum like a bee searching for something to sting. ‘Make sure you’re comfortable. Relax, don’t tense up.’
He bounced on his bent knees and rolled his shoulders. Shane and Jenny were copying his movements as best they could.
‘How long before we can try sliding, Dad?’ Shane asked.
‘You mean skiing Shane, not sliding. Sliding is something you do in mud.’
‘Don’t be so pompous, Rob!’ Jenny scolded. ‘Now come on, let’s give it a go.’
The slope was gentle and the snow perfect.
‘I’ll go first,’ said Rob. ‘I’ll be able to intercept you if you lose control as you gather speed.’ He looked down the slope. ‘Mind you,’ he laughed mockingly, ‘this little thing doesn’t offer much of a challenge. You won’t get any speed up going down that.’
‘Just get on with it, Rob,’ said Jenny, prodding him with one of her stocks. ‘We’ll follow you, so don’t go too fast or try to show off.’
Before Jenny had finished the sentence, Rob was on his way. He looked awkward and was obviously unsure of himself. He managed to keep his balance, however, and was gaining speed.
Jenny and Shane found themselves too interested in Rob’s methods of waving arms and swinging hips to begin their descent. He was struggling to keep his balance and it showed. By now he had reached a speed that would make a sudden stop a catastrophe. He was digging his stocks hard into the snow, trying desperately to slow himself or at least gain more control.
‘Is he all right, Mum?’ Shane asked.
‘I don’t think he is,’ said Jenny with obvious concern. ‘He’s out of control. I don’t think he can stop.’
Shane was finding it hard to watch. ‘What shall we do?’
‘There’s nothing we can do. I just hope he can regain some sort of control or at least land in a soft patch of snow.’
If only they could have seen Rob’s face under the sunglasses, scarf and woollen hat. He was terrified. This wasn’t how he remembered skiing.
People saw him coming and quickly moved aside to let him through. He was waving his arms and wiggling his hips frantically. Then he bent his knees so far that his backside was almost touching the snow. His scarf was beginning to flap behind him and his situation was getting worse. Jenny and Shane watched and waited for the inevitable collision, fall or cartwheeling tumble.
Rob began to move his backside in an attempt to slide himself sideways and skid to a reasonably graceful stop but he lacked the mastery and control necessary for such a manoeuvre. All he was doing was making himself look more ridiculous.
Shane hated standing helplessly watching his father head for obvious and painful disaster. ‘Why don’t we slide down slowly towards him? At least then we’ll be there a bit quicker when he stacks it.’
Jenny grabbed Shane by the arm. ‘Do you think we can slide down there without ending up in the predicament Rob’s in?’
‘Of course we can, Mum. He was too cocky, that’s all. He should’ve been more careful. We’ll go very, very slowly and hang onto each other.’
They had only slid a metre or two when they heard Rob scream.
‘WHOAAAAGGGHHH!’
He’d tried to do something with one of his skis and had lifted it into the air. Skiing on two legs had proved to be difficult enough for him, but skiing on one leg brought disaster. He suddenly tumbled over and over and over in a windmill-style fall. Arms, legs, skis and stocks flew about in a sickening flurry until he landed with a thud on his back.
Shane and Jenny stared at him open-mouthed. His skis were pointing awkwardly skywards. He wasn’t moving. He had obviously hurt himself but they didn’t know how badly. Jenny had visions of him wrapped in bandages from head to foot like a mummy.
Despite the urgency, Shane and Jenny couldn’t hurry. They were slipping and sliding like blobs of butter in a hot pan. Every two or three metres one of them would fall and need help, making their progress even slower still.
Shane couldn’t believe how hard it was to stay up on skis. It took every muscle in his legs to keep them where he wanted them and even then they slid out from under him. Halfway down, just as Shane was getting the hang of things and making real progress, he stopped dead. He stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed at his father’s motionless body.
‘Mum!’ he said in hushed surprise. ‘Look at that!’
‘What?’ asked Jenny, looking about.
‘At Dad. Look at Dad.’
‘I know, I can see him.’
‘But can’t yo
u … can’t you see …?’
‘Can’t I see what?’ Jenny was becoming annoyed with Shane. She wanted to get to Rob.
Shane was staring at David leaning over his father and glowing brighter than the fresh snow. Wearing jeans, t-shirt and earring, he turned to Shane and smiled a half smile. He wasn’t sure how Shane was going to react. He’d been in such a rush to get to his father that he hadn’t given a thought to making himself invisible. Shane looked across at his mother, then back at David. She couldn’t see him. Shane was speechless, he didn’t know what to think. He felt as though he’d swallowed a sickly mixture of butterflies and beetles and they were crawling and flitting about in his stomach.
He could feel his heart beating fast and loud. This was not night-time. He was not asleep. It was not a dream. He told himself to block it — to block it out or go crazy. He mustn’t tell Mum. He should say nothing and act normal or the holiday would be over.
David heard his brother’s inner voice. For the first time since leaving earth, David wished he was back in hospital, hurting, being stabbed constantly with daggers of pain. He could stand it, he could, just as long as his family were there, talking to him, laughing for him, lifting his spirits, pushing the strength of their love through his pain.
Although David had some wonderful powers that could heal, save, delight and excite, they couldn’t give him what he wanted most of all. He turned back to his father, made sure he was okay and, looking back at Shane, faded away.
Shane greeted his mother’s puzzled gaze with a nervous laugh. ‘Huh huh, sorry Mum. I thought I saw something, er, something flashing in the snow.’ He kept his eyes on her. He was scared to look in his father’s direction, but when he heard a soft moan his instinct took over. He stared at his father writhing in the snow, and, to his relief, he saw nothing else.
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