If You Can

The radio crackled, spitting static and broken speech into the car. Slumping back in the driver's seat, Cate sighed and turned it off.

"Weather channel can't get a full word through and I can't see two feet ahead of me, looks like we might be stuck here for a while." In the seat next to her, Liz nodded but said nothing.

A long minute passed. The world outside the car got whiter, and the one inside got colder. Cate tried again.

"I'm sorry I can't get you home any faster." Liz mumbled a response into the palm of her hand as she stared blankly out the window. "What?" Cate asked.

"You can't control the weather," Liz said, still not looking at Cate.

"No," Cate said dumbly. "I can't."

Cate's watch ticked away the silent minutes as they passed.

After four minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Liz said, "I'm sorry, Tabby."

Cate smiled down at her lap. "Do you remember when you gave me that name?"

"We were nineteen-year-old college idiots."

"I was so sleep-deprived I couldn't even write my own name."

"You wrote C-a-t at the top of the page and then fell asleep on your notebook. Your hair was in a messy bun on top of your head and you had your shoes off in the library. I came in to study and there you were."

"You brought me coffee and a muffin, and said--"

"You can buy next time." Liz laughed. "I remember."

"You called me Cat for weeks."

"You never corrected me!"

"I liked it."

"And then you got that striped sweater from your aunt for your birthday, the orange and yellow one that you wore for all of reading week."

"In my defense, it was very soft."

"You curled up in the chair next to me for a nap and you looked so much like a tabby cat I had to stop writing and look at you for a minute or two."

"And you called me Tabby ever since."

"Yes I did," Liz smiled. "Yes I did."

The windshield wipers were useless against the blizzard outside, but the heater was finally kicking in.

"Do you remember the first snow that year?" Liz asked. Cate grinned.

"Of course I do. You were so excited -- you'd never seen snow before. And me, well. I'd never seen you in the snow before."

Liz leaned back and closed her eyes. "Tell me the story, Tabby, would you?" Cate unbuckled her seatbelt and curled up against the car door.

"You came all the way to my building at six A.M. and dragged me out of bed to build a snowwoman by the lake. When she was finished you gave her your scarf and kissed her on the cheek. I was so jealous of your moment with her that I hit you with a snowball. Turned out you were a natural-born snowball fight champion, and pretty soon I was pinned to the ground underneath you.

"But I had use of one arm, and when the tension was too much for my poor little heart, I smashed my last snowball into your hair. If we'd been any closer to campus, your squealing would have woken the entire student body. Lucky for us, only a couple birds could hear you. I used the distraction to make my escape, and took shelter behind the snowwoman. From there I watched you throw your head back and stick out your tongue to catch the new snow that was falling.

"You said, 'god, I love the snow," and I thought, 'god, I love you.'

"When we left, I stole your scarf from around the snowwoman's neck and put it around my own. You just raised one of your stupid eyebrows at me and said nothing, until we got back to your building. Then I handed it back to you, but you wrapped it back around my neck with one side hanging down and the other tossed over my shoulder, just like the snowwoman, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Then, because the snow turned you into an actual child, you ran back inside and left me short-circuiting on the porch."

"I had to go breathe into a paper bag," Liz said.

"It was a lot of excitement before eight A.M."

"That it was."

Cate tried the radio again, to no avail. The signal was even worse than before. Her foot went tap-tap-tap against the steering wheel.

"Hey," Liz said, "do you remember my uncle's wedding? I had to make a speech at the reception, but then we snuck out through the kitchen and found a way up onto the roof."

Slowly, Cate relaxed into the familiar voice and story.

"You wore your roommate's red dress that night, with your mother's pearls and your combat boots. The best man's date. Perfect.

"I was so glad to be in a suit that night, because when we lay down on the roof and looked out at all the city lights, I got to put my jacket around your shoulders like the guy always does in a movie. You loosened my tie and I rolled up my sleeves and sat there in a waistcoat next to the most beautiful girl in the world.

"And then you took out your iPod and put on some music and asked me to dance, but I said no, that I was the gentleman tonight and you were the lady, and I'd only dance with you if you let me ask. I was a little drunk, or maybe we both were. Champagne and close proximity. Potent. My favorite mixed drink.

"I asked if you would do me the honor of a dance. You said yes, but only if I promised not to trip us both and fall off the roof. So we danced in the very middle of the roof of a fancy hotel, you said if you could, you'd dance under the stars forever. And then we stumbled back to the room I was staying in at three in the morning to collapse into bed. That was the first night you slept in my arms."

Cate hummed a melody, her eyes closed.

"That's it," Liz laughed, "the song we danced to."

"Yes." Cate leaned over and popped the glove compartment open. She took out two protein bars and handed one to Liz before retreating to her side of the center console. Then the silence was filled for a time by the sound of foil wrappers crinkling in hungry hands.

"These have never tasted this good before," Liz said.

"Things always taste better when you need them the most," Cate said. "Remember the night we made bread together?"

"Of course. It's one of my favorites."

"You were visiting me in France. You'd lost your job and that awful girlfriend of yours had broken up with you."

"You always hated her more than I did for that."

"Of course I did. I was in love with you."

"I was sleeping on your couch. You woke up in the middle of the night. You couldn't sleep."

"I'd had a bad dream. I told you to go back to sleep, that I hadn't meant to wake you, but you refused. You came into the kitchen and hugged me from behind. You asked what I normally did on nights like this, when you weren't there. I told you I made bread. You said--"

"I said, show me. And you did. You guided my hands and showed me how to knead the dough. Said, 'I'll always show you, if I can.' I got flour everywhere. And when we put the dough aside to rise, you were yawning into my shoulder. So I picked you up and carried you back to your room. But as I was leaving you said--"

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

Liz laughed. "And I did."

"And you did."

"We ate the bread plain in the morning. It was the best thing I'd ever tasted."

"Me too."

Everything was quiet now. The wind had died down, and if it was still snowing, no one could tell. Thick snow covered the windows and blocked the doors. Cate imagined laying her head on Liz's lap. She knew what the fabric of Liz's pants would feel like against her cheek, knew which hand Liz would run through her hair. Knew how easily she could fall asleep there, like she had so many times before.

"Thank you," Liz said, breaking the quiet.

"For what?"

"For coming to get me."

"Oh." Cate wasn't sure what to say.

"Tabby."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I mean. Of course I came. Wherever I am..."

"I'm always welcome. I remember. But things are so different now."

"Hey." Cate locked eyes with Liz for the first time since picking her up at the hospital hours earlier. "Things will never be so different that I won't come when you need me. I mean. If I can."

Liz looked away, through the blanketed windshield. "If you can," she repeated. "I know."