by C A Gleason
What drew them out was something close to a gift for it had snowed overnight. There seemed to be enough slushy white to build a snowman. It was probably the last gasp of winter, but then again, Doreen had thought the same thing after the last snowfall too. Fresh flakes could be put to productive use, in that they could make a young girl very happy, and probably wouldn’t last much longer. It would likely melt into slush soon and be wasted—according to Heike—unless Doreen wanted to be a “mean mom.”
It wasn’t as if Doreen could hide what had fallen overnight from Heike. She would become very suspicious if her mom insisted she wear a blindfold for no reason and proceed to bump around the inside of the cabin. Not only had Heike asked whether they could build a snowman over and over and again, they had also been on her mind because she’d been doodling them for the last two days as if she sensed what would happen.
When Doreen had asked Heike why she didn’t build a snowman when there was so much snow on the ground earlier in the year, she said, “It hadn’t occurred to me.” She’d used those exact words. She was growing up so fast. It definitely didn’t harm her vocabulary that her only interactions were with adults: compassionate, understanding, caring, intelligent, and curious ones at that.
No matter what kind of slushy concoction they ended up creating, it was the best way to distract Heike for a while. That was probably why she had been so insistent, whether she truly knew it or not. Doreen wasn’t the only one worried about Jonah being away, Heike was too. He’d already been gone far too long without contacting Doreen for him not to have encountered some sort of trouble, and even though he was often away for most of the day, he’d already been gone for two, and this time felt especially concerning.
It wasn’t just because he hadn’t ventured out on a similar mission for such a long time; it was also because he hadn’t responded when Doreen had attempted radio contact. Since then, she’d decided to wait for him to contact her, which she knew he would do when it was possible. What Doreen was going through made her nostalgic for the days after Henrytown but before this one. She had felt this type of worry tug at her weak spots before, causing her stomach to sour enough for her appetite to vanish, but it had been a long time since that happened last. Jonah had remained local for a long time.
Doreen had almost yelled at Heike when she spoke Deutsch to her, which was ridiculous; they were German, and this was Deutschland. It wasn’t because speaking the language was something negative; Doreen’s own mother would have objected that her granddaughter was discouraged from speaking her native language. For a while, Doreen had even speculated why she dissuaded Heike from speaking only Deutsch, even though Jonah spoke it well, but she realized, deep down, it was because of the present state of the world.
The Molting had likely begun in Europe, maybe even in Deutschland. She wasn’t sure of the number of dead since the Molting began, but she suspected the English language was the one that would endure, based on the strengths of England and America but also—and most importantly—all the people who spoke English as a second language. That and Spanish. She’d heard Chinese was the most popular language, but she could just see the look on Jonah’s face if she insisted he not only keep up on his Deutsch and learn to speak Spanish fluently, but also learn Chinese.
Regardless, German wasn’t a priority language, even though they were in Deutschland, because all three of them already spoke it well enough. Ironically, she’d heard from someone when she was young—she couldn’t remember who—that the English language actually originated from invaders from Germany long ago. For some reason, most people associated the English language with America.
Doreen was not one of those people, and her affinity for English wasn’t that she was biased, being in love with an American man either; it was because of the popularity of America itself. Most Americans spoke the language, and many people from other countries were taught to speak English at school. It was only a feeling, but a strong one, and she thought that she was correct about it.
She wanted her daughter to speak two languages well and possibly learn a third. Almost everyone she had ever known spoke some English or spoke it well. Deutsch was fine while she and Heike were together, or if she wanted to speak it with Jonah on occasion, but a future rule would be she had to speak English when there were any other Americans around. To keep up on it and stay sharp.
But the main reason was actually one that pained Doreen very much. It was in case both she and Jonah were killed. That way, Heike would be able to communicate with whoever she ended up with. Most likely that person or people would at least speak some English. It was an extremely harrowing forethought, an awful one for Doreen, imagining that she wouldn’t be alive to take care of her own daughter, but these were no ordinary times. Though facing an unbelievable enemy, they were living during a familiar period of human existence, and that was during a war.
The snow was soft but also crunchy underfoot as some of what was beneath the powder was frozen from the night before. Even though the season had technically changed, the snow from winter hadn’t vanished completely from the territory surrounding the cabin. And clear skies typically meant cold in these mountains no matter the time of year.
The grade of the snow was not ideal for the fun they planned, actually what Heike had planned, plotted, and talked about incessantly since they went outside, but it would do. Although it had snowed, there wasn’t as much powder as they’d hoped, so Heike attempted to use chunks of what was essentially ice as a base to build on, but it was difficult enough to frustrate her, so she threw them. When the chunks landed, they burst into shards of solid wet.
After a while longer, they had somewhat completed the main body of the snowman—if that’s what it could be called, more like a snow lump—and Heike continued to add the rare handfuls of fresh snow that she could find as it slowly took shape. Heike was attempting to duplicate what she had seen in children’s books about how they should look. Maybe Heike had even seen one recently in one of the many books Jonah found for her when he was out searching for supplies.
“Think it’s ready for some clothing?” Doreen said.
“Ja,” Heike said.
They didn’t have to push much slush aside on the ground beneath their feet to locate some dark rocks they used for its eyes and nose and mouth. Doreen pushed an actual pipe—Jonah had found it—among the rocks of its mouth, and it made Heike laugh. Jonah didn’t smoke cigarettes anymore, and he’d said he could possibly use the pipe to bargain with one day, but Doreen secretly suspected he wanted to smoke it as an older man, which was why she hadn’t objected to him keeping it.
She actually loved the smell of tobacco from a pipe, but also whiskey on a man’s breath. Both reminded her of masculinity, what she thought men smelled like, even if neither was healthy. The thought of Jonah sitting by the fire as an older man with a blanket on his legs, having a stiff drink—if he could handle it, knowing how he felt about alcohol, but it would be up to him—and puffs of smoke around his face as he smiled at her the way he did, it warmed her heart.
As he smoked, she would remind him that Heike was coming over to visit with her husband, someone who they both had approved of, and their children, too, and watch as Jonah attempted to mask the excitement of looking forward to that day as men often did. As if it were no big deal, but he would continue to ask about them until they arrived. She would look forward to the visit as much as he did.
Maybe even another child of theirs would be grown by then, a boy or a girl who would have children of their own, even more grandchildren to visit Doreen and Jonah when they were older people. Both she and Jonah would still be alive to speak of the Molting as a distant memory, another war from the past, fought and done with and now under control. The grandchildren would do their best to show interest until something nice and normal distracted them, and up until that point, they could only use their imaginations to understand such horror.
“Mom?”
Heike was blurry through a film of tears, s
o she wiped them away. “I’m fine. I’m having fun.”
“You look sad.”
“I’m not.”
“Happy tears?”
Sugarcoating the truth would not help her or her daughter. “Not exactly.”
“What then?”
“I guess I’m worried.”
“Me, too, but he’ll come back. He always does.”
“Yes. He does, doesn’t he?” Heike smiled at her, and Doreen smiled back, swallowing her emotion. “What kind of hat should we put on him?”
The women went about deciding by rummaging through the clothing they’d meticulously arranged on the snow-covered picnic table for that very moment. There were scarves, stocking caps, trucker hats, baseball caps, and even a sombrero. Doreen suspected that soon after Jonah’s return, it would be warm enough so that they could have a picnic on the table.
When Heike put the sombrero on the snowman’s head, she said, “Nein,” and removed it just as quickly.
“He definitely needs a scarf to keep warm,” Doreen said, and searched until she found a red one and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck. “Chilly out here.”
“Do you think Jonah will like it?”
“He’ll love it.” Then Doreen’s heart sank when she glanced down and saw what Heike had done. Her immediate reaction was to yell at her daughter, but she didn’t want to ruin the day, so she held herself composed. Still she couldn’t hold back her parental tone. “Take that out of there, please.”
Reluctantly, Heike scraped the pistol out of the side of the snowman; the indentation looked as if it had been holstered. It was the pistol Jonah had given her. Heike blew on the gun and rubbed the slush off.
“Is it loaded?” Doreen said.
“A weapon is always loaded,” Heike said.
“Is it actually loaded, though?”
“Yes.”
“Remove the magazine, please.”
Heike expertly thumbed the magazine release, and the magazine fell into her left hand. Then she pulled the slide, and the chambered bullet ejected and landed in her hand too.
“Jonah taught you to do that?”
“Yes.” Heike stood there waiting. “Is that OK?”
“I suppose. Just be careful.”
“I am,” Heike said, thumbing the round back into the magazine. She put it in her jacket pocket along with the small-caliber pistol. Then she zipped the pocket shut.
Doreen almost asked her daughter to hand over the gun, but Jonah had given it to her. He trusted her, and that meant a lot to Doreen. Plus, at what age would that be appropriate? Two years from now? Ten? With current events, what was the difference? But she hated the fact that her own daughter had to grow up in a world where a child needed to carry a gun because a threat that required a gun could present itself at any moment.
Doreen remembered all the snow angels they’d made together, including a few times with Jonah, and how shortly after one of those times the Molters had attacked Henrytown. When had they been close to such danger and not even known it? Like now. Like always lately. She wished Jonah were there. Even though she could handle herself, she always felt safer with him around.
Jonah hadn’t been gone long, but it was long enough for her to feel the way she did when part of her felt like it was missing. It wasn’t like him to be gone overnight, but she had to remember he was a very capable man—battle hardened—against normal people and bad men and the creatures, so for now she put her worry aside. Jonah was always confident, and because of that, she needed to have confidence in him. Still she wanted him to come back home soon.
Doreen couldn’t help but sense that he was in danger, but she wasn’t sure how she knew. She hoped she was wrong, that she was only being worried because he was still away. Upon his return, she would make him feel guilty about the stress he had put on her and demand an apology that consisted of hugs and kisses and more. She wanted him there with them. Needed him to be too.
To Doreen there was a difference between wanting and needing but desiring both revealed just how much she loved him. And why she’d picked him. Her choice to be with Jonah was exactly that, a choice, and she had not chosen to be close to a man before Jonah since her husband died in a vehicle accident. She’d had plenty of opportunities for romance as many women did. Since it always seemed to be chilly in Deutschland, many spent time indoors, and one of men’s favorite activities was to practice making babies. That was likely what every man’s favorite activity was. The thought of sex made Doreen miss her man even more.
Their intimacy was something special, something they shared together, and it felt like it was unique to them, what no one else had ever experienced, and neither of them had ever been closer with anyone else. Being intimate with a man was a very serious decision for Doreen, and that was obvious to even her since she hadn’t been with anyone else but Jonah since her husband had passed away.
What she and Jonah shared was beyond words. It was rare. To Doreen, their bond felt like it could only happen once in a lifetime, even though she had been married before, because she only felt that way with Jonah. Jonah was the man for her, and she had been preoccupied with that fact a lot lately, especially since he’d gone on the mission.
Doreen had only been pregnant one other time before she’d lost the baby, and that pregnancy had resulted in Heike. She didn’t like to think about the little one who died, but sometimes the thought of him just crept in. Not nearly as much as immediately after it had happened, though. She often forced herself to think of other things while in pain, but dealing with how she felt was probably necessary.
Like right now.
She was so worried about Jonah, but as she’d had to do in her past, she was able to be worried and enjoy quality time with her daughter simultaneously. It was a skill and a lesson she’d learned from Jonah himself, silently, as it was never spoken of so as not to bring out conversation about trauma unnecessarily. Jonah was a strong man but one with darkness in his past. There was no sense in knowing it all, but she’d still learned from some of it the few times he’d spoken about it.
Maybe it was because of their present circumstances—so secluded—that the loss of the little one had been so absolutely devastating. Even though Jonah was always at her side and willing to comfort her whenever and however she needed, she still felt like she was on her own about it. That didn’t really make sense, but it was how she felt. Doreen didn’t understand it then but realized that it was probably normal, and she would have felt the same way even if the miscarriage had happened before the Molting. How could she not? She was who she was.
From that horrible day on, more so then than now, she couldn’t stop thinking about his tiny little life being cut short, not even beginning, and how he would never experience all that was so wonderful about life. It always made things worse at the thought of his name—she knew it was a boy all along. She was going to name him after her grandfather. If she ever got pregnant again, she would not use the name if the baby was going to be a boy. He had died, and for Doreen, his name had died with him.
Losing the baby was one of the worst pains she’d ever felt, but she was never exactly sure where that pain was. Inside her, around her heart and stomach. Inside her mind, yet the pain always seemed to gravitate somewhere else inside her, depending on how she was feeling that day. After mulling it over as much as she could handle, the grief going around and around and around, ricocheting all over the inside of her mind and heart for what seemed endlessly, it eventually began to subside a little more each day.
Although it felt like the loss was a long time ago, it wasn’t, but at least now she felt like she could go on, when before, selfishly, she occasionally hoped to pass away during the night. She never told anyone that, not even Jonah, and she never would. Thankfully, the potency of those feelings had passed.
Doreen’s feelings about everything had changed, and she felt like she was something close to her normal self again. She saw it in the eyes of her loved ones. They seemed to sense it
too. Even with all that threatened them, and all the terrible things that could happen, life could still be wonderful. No matter the number of losses or hazardous quandaries they found themselves in, there was always the possibility of bonding. The best kinds were between a man and a woman, or a parent and a child.
Losing her baby was like losing an appendage, but a consoling fact was that she and Jonah could make love as much as he could handle, and then one day, she would be pregnant again. Even if she couldn’t have another child, for whatever unforeseen reason, Jonah would still be there for her no matter what. Her heart was sore at the thought of him not being in her life, and in Heike’s, but worrying more wasn’t doing any good, even if she couldn’t help it, so she focused on the moment.
Heike had finally finished dressing their snowy companion because she had stepped back and hadn’t added anything else for some time. There was a perfectly shaped skinny branch for an arm with four stick fingers sticking out on one side and a crooked branch with three stick fingers sticking out on the other side. Both stick arms looked as if they were waving. Heike had decided that a baseball cap was best for a hat.
As if reading her mom’s mind, Heike said, “It fits because he might want to play baseball.”
“Excellent choice. Do you think he’s finished?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
Both stared at their creation; the fun of their interaction had made many of their worries go away for the all-too-brief time it took to build and shape the snowman. Mental escape was one of the best and healthiest ways to endure worry, danger, or hardship. That included playing in the snow, or what was left of it.
“I hope it doesn’t melt before Jonah returns,” Heike said.
“Me too,” Doreen said. “Although our snowman is more of an iceman.”
“Mom!”
“Well, he is.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“There is now.”
