Snowstorm

Snowstorm
By Ami E. Bowen

“What in god’s name do you think you’re doing?” I turned at the sound of Alan’s voice and leaned against the shovel I’d been using to shove the snow away from the cabin and form somewhat of a path from the snow-filled parking area to the front stoop. Three days had come and gone since that day after Rima’s call.

The roads were pretty much cleared and the sun was blazing down, reflecting off the snow and making the world much brighter than it actually was. “What does it look like?” I asked, holding the shovel between my knees to free my hands. My skin was chapped and bitterly cold, but I’d been overcome with a case of cabin fever and needed to be outside, doing something, if only for a few moments. I’ve found that as long as I keep busy, keep my mind on other things, I didn’t think about…well…I just didn’t think. Maybe that was my problem all along.

“It looks like you’re going to make yourself sick, Beth,” he said and strode forward. He was dressed in the same pair of faded jeans I’d seen him in the other day; either that or he had several pair. Probably the latter. A light blue knit sweater encased his upper body and I found myself wanting to place my cheek against the softness of the material. I reined in my thoughts as he reached between my legs; I stifled my gasp, the air from our mouths leaving and swirling around us in foggy puffs, and took the shovel from me. “Come back inside. You’re not dressed for working in the snow. Besides, we’re leaving soon anyway.”

“Leaving?” I asked, struck motionless for a moment, “I thought…Alan, what are you talking about…?”

“You can’t stay here, Beth,” he said as he looped an arm about my waist and led me back towards the cabin, “And you can’t come with me. I’ve been offered a role in a new film. I need to be in L.A. by next Tuesday and you need to be with your family. I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”

“I thought that Rima…”

“I’ve informed of the change in plans,” he interrupted me, propping the shovel against the side of the cabin before walking up the steps and holding the door for me, “Beth, I never meant for any of this…to happen. I mean…” I walked passed him and he followed me into the living room. I sat down, tugging on the hem of the oversized button-down shirt, dark green with thin, white strips running horizontally down it’s front and back and down the sleeves.

Of course it belonged to Alan but he’d told me to find whatever seemed to fit. I still wore his pajama pants, as everything else he owned would have fallen down around my ankles without a few safety pins, which, after a search of the cupboards and drawers, proved impossible to locate. “Beth,” he said, and looked down, a lock of his sandy, somewhat grayish hair, falling across his brow. He was silent for so long. We both were. Standing in the center of his rustic living room, the grate, for once, empty of the cheerful, dancing flames.

I reached out and lifted his chin with my hand. It was still cold from being outside and looked into his eyes. I was unsure of the emotion there; all I know was that it was laced with pain. Was he feeling remorse for what we’d done? For pretty much being unfaithful to his partner? Was he regretting ever meeting me? Or was he wondering how in the world he could let me go? “This…” I swallowed and tried again, there seemed to be a lump in my throat, making it hard to talk, “This is it, isn’t it? Our time together…it’s ending…” So little time, so much to say…to do.

“You knew…” Alan said, as I threw myself into his arms, and held on tightly, my body shaking with sobs as my tears smeared wetness across both my face and his shoulder and the crook of his neck, “Beth…Beth, don’t…please…you knew this couldn’t….that we couldn’t…please…shhh…” I felt his hand brushing lightly the back of my head, smoothing down my windblown hair and allowed me to finish crying. I’d cried enough for three more lifetimes, I thought, since I’d been here, what’s a few more tears, really? I finally sniffled, and pulled away, wiping my eyes on the backs of my hands. “Feel better?”

“No.”

“You will,” he said, “It may not seem like it now…but, someday, you’ll look back on this…all of this…and smile.”

“You sound so clichéd,” I smirked through my watery eyes, and hiccupped, “Are you going to tell me that ‘time heals all wounds’, next?”

“Well, ‘every goodbye is the beginning of another hello’,” Alan said, and I knew he was trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re such an dork,” I shook my head and his smile was infectious, “Are you taking me into St. Marie’s?” That was the name of the closest town. It was small and filled with down-to-earth people. It had a hospital, a few stores and not much else. Most people who’d lived there for their entire lives wanted out. The ones who got out always came back. And then there were the ones who lived on the fence. They were the ones who considered the place to be a good vacationing spot. The good thing about the place was that no one really paid that much attention to newcomers, as there were always steady flows of them all year ‘round. Mostly, though, in the summer. He nodded and I asked him when we were leaving.

“As soon as you’re ready to go. You can keep those,” he said, gesturing towards my borrowed clothing, “And the boots. They seem to be the only thing here that actually fits you.” I glanced down at my feet and shrugged. It was true. The ugly nineteen-seventies snow boots fit as if they’d been made for me. I wondered whose they were but I’d never asked. It hadn’t seemed important. I didn’t know what else to say. It seemed that we’d all ready said everything that needed saying over the past few days.

The drive down the mountain was silent. The snow wasn’t falling any longer and snowplow trucks had obviously been through, clearing the roads enough to drive somewhat safely on. I sat next to him and fiddled with the radio for a few moment, pausing on some music that caused him to grit his teeth and white-knuckle the steering wheel. “Beth, please…” he said, in an irritated tone, “If I wanted to make my ears bleed I could probably find a less annoying way.”

“Sorry,” I said and switched it off, staring out the window at the snow-covered trees. I must have slept and cried in my sleep. I wasn’t sure, anymore, if I were crying for myself, for losing whatever it was that Alan and I had shared, or for my lost sister. I felt horrible because, while still loved her and would always love her, I hadn’t thought about her as much as I should have after that first night. Oh, she was still there, flitting near the rear of my mind and the pain was always there…only…only I’d been shoving her aside, putting up a kind of barrier to block her out and forcing myself to become numb whenever I’d hear her voice, see her face or think about her and Thomas. “We came this way,” I said, dully, as if starting small-talk, “Katie…and Tom…and I…”

Alan didn’t say anything. What could he say? I’m sorry? How horrible! Are you all right? In a way, I was thankful for his silence. It meant a lot more to me, right now, than words ever could. I sighed again and rested my forehead against the glass, the coolness soothing my senses. I closed my eyes as we drove passed the scene of the accident. I didn’t want to see the streamers of yellow police tape and the signs warning others towards caution and to keep away.

As I was saying before, I must have slept. I woke up to a gentle shaking of my shoulder and realized we had stopped. I blinked and sat up, looking around. “Your father called,” Alan said, by way of explanation, as I saw someone, bundled like a grizzly about to find a cave for the winter, lumbering towards us. Alan had parked the car, which, in case I haven’t mentioned it before, was a dark blue sedan, across the street from the hospital. “While you were outside and we made plans to meet here…”

“Bethie? Oh, my god…Bethie!” My father’s voice was like a bullhorn. I used to be so embarrassed as a kid. He would call me in for dinner and the entire neighborhood would pause to see who was the kid with the loudest Dad in the area. I remember pretending not to hear or saying, to my friends, “Oh, he’s calling some other Beth…My Dad’s at work…” I don’t think anyone ever believed me.

Especially after the time he came to fetch me and pulled me away from a game of foursquare when I’d ignored his calls for the fifth or sixth time. I exited the car at the same as Alan on the other side of me. My father, even though I was in the thirties and an adult, even if I did still live with him and my mother, glared at me in his ‘you are in so much trouble, young lady’, look before hugging me so tightly I had to push him away in order to breath. “We…you’re mother and I…we thought we’d lost you too…”

“But, you talked to me on the phone,” I said, as he looked at me, holding at arm’s length now, and shook his head. “It’s been so confusing lately, Bethie…and I don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground now-a-days…ever since…well…I’ve been dreamin’ ‘bout, her, Bethie…’bout Katie…and I thought…”

“You thought the phone call was a dream too?” I asked, and he nodded, slightly, “What about Mom?”

“Oh, she told me to stop being an idiot and remember that she was there when you called. That she talked to you, too.” My father looked away from me and smiled uncertainly at Alan, who had been standing by, observing but not intruding, “I want to thank you…for helping my daughter.” I watched as the men took in each other and shook hands, introductions were made, hastily. My father wasn’t much for watching movies or even much television, so I’m sure Alan’s name didn’t register with him as anything of particular note.

“If there is anything…anything at all…” Alan cut him off and looked at me, before looking back at my father, “I know you’ve just lost a daughter,” he said and swallowed, shaking my head quickly in an attempt to quiet him, but it seemed Alan didn’t notice the redness in my father’s face, nor the flicker of pain in his eyes. “And it’s horrible to lose someone. Believe me, I know. I know what it’s like when someone you love is taken from you…but, listen, please, I have to say this.” My father nodded slightly, as if to tell him to go on. It was the least he owed the man, an ear. “It’s probably none of my business, really, but, I’ve come to know Beth fairly well during the time she was with me and I…well…I just want to know that…”

“I love my kids, Mr. Rickman,” My father said, “You don’t have to worry none ‘bout, Bethie…”

Alan nodded and I wondered, as I’d wondered before, if my father was going to keep calling me by my childhood nickname. The nickname I thought had been lost forever. It was…sweet and annoying at the same time. I felt six year old again and wished he’d call me either Beth or Elizabeth and, yet, at the same time, I found myself feeling somewhat touched that he’d remembered. But, then again, I was his only living child…now. “I’ll be right back,” I said to my father and led Alan a few feet away, so I could speak to him in relative privacy. “Don’t take long,” he called, “Your mother’s waiting in the car…the engine’s on.”

“We’ve said everything there is to say,” I said, standing in front of Alan, “Haven’t we?” His cheeks and nose were extremely crimson from the cold air. He nodded and drew me easily into his arms, “Then why do I feel like there’s something I should be saying?” I felt his arms tighten about me for a moment and rested my head against his shoulder. We stood that way for a while, and I didn’t care about the people walking past or about my father trying to ignore us a few feet away.

“It’ll come to you,” he said as we pulled away from each other. I nodded. I’m sure it would, eventually. “You could write you know,” he suggested and I shook my head.

“You’d never answer back. You’ll be too busy…” I sniffed and he reached out to push my hair away from my face. It was a gesture I knew I’d miss. I smiled and did the same for him, lifting his hair up and away from his forehead before sliding my hand across his cheek and then away.

“You’re right.”

“I’ll write anyway.”

“Of course you will.”

“Alan?”

“Hmm?”

“The thing that I feel I’m forgetting to say…” I swallowed and he waited. I continued, “It just came to me.”

“I know,” he said, interrupting me. He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “I’ll miss you, Beth.”

to be continued...