Snow Angels

We drove up the snowy, winding road toward the cozy A-frame cabin.

I stared blankly into the windshield; you braced your hands tightly on the wheel and sighed into the thick slices of emptiness that lingered between us.

There is always a moment - just after the sun goes down - when the looming blanket of the night spreads like feathering ink into the fading orange of the horizon. Though the storm clouds were heavy and restricted our view, I sensed an eerie inevitability akin to that which the dark brings; a figment of something evil that followed our tracks.

However, it wasn’t the storm, the night, or the sky that concerned me…

it was something much greater than that: something that permanently existed in the spaces and shadows between you and I; haunting our ardor.

It was supposed to be a romantic, last-minute getaway, but I wasn’t sure I could get into the Christmas spirit with so many ghosts of our past hanging around in the rearview mirror. What was even worse was the fact that they weren’t just staying in our past anymore: with neatly tied bows and glittery wrapping, they seemed to have figured out how to open themselves up in our present.

They began to emerge in the form of snowflakes; drifting all around us as we sped past the glistening shoulders and slopes of the road. They say that each tiny crystal is unique and no two will ever be the same. However, as their little faces stuck to my passenger-seat window and melted, I saw some apparitions I’d seen long before...

and some I was all too familiar with.

“Slow down!” I yelled abruptly; the fury firing out of my chest.

You slammed on the brakes, and we both jerked forward into the place where the phantoms tampered with the brawn of our love.

“Damnit, Evangeline, I saw it!” You exclaimed - throwing your hands up in frustration. We both watched as the deer scampered away in the headlights.

“See?” You insisted, “That wasn’t even close, Eve. You really need to learn to trust me again.”

I sat there - staring at you - my heart pulsing to its absolute max as I watched the clouds of your breath swirl in the cold. I wanted to trust you again - I did. But as the ghost of your words formed before me in the sub-zero chill of the air, all I could do and all I could say was nothing. I continued to stare at you; at the phantom before us.

You shook your head and let out a sigh, then took your foot off of the break. We drove a bit longer in silence.

You were trying so hard. You remained optimistic. Convinced that our seven-year romance could somehow be rekindled, you’d rented out the same A-frame cabin we’d been visiting for Christmas every year since I got over my terrible fear of the snow. Lake Tahoe was a body of water that rarely froze over, but conditions were perfect this year. Where there were normally blankets upon blankets of white, powdery snow covering the ice, there were now diamond-clear sheets of glass separating a few eager and adventurous souls from the incredible depths of the frigid-cold water.

It was an exceptionally rare occasion - and honestly, it was just short of a miracle. You’d always promised to take me ice skating on its surface in the event that magic ever happened sometime in our lifetime.

Unfortunately - even magic, occasionally, had bad timing.

As we rounded the mountain and edged closer to the neighborhood, white, glowing Christmas lights began to appear like stars between the thickly grown, snow-capped evergreens. We used to love driving around late at night to see all the twinkly and glittery decor; holding hands and kissing with lips that were sweet with hot chocolate. We used to love being in love, but now all these lights just seemed to bring adumbrations representing the vast, empty voids that had formed between us, and I wondered if we still loved the idea of love between us.

Ever since that day and the incident, our idea of love - unfortunately -seemed to be shapeshifting into something barely discernible.

We pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car without saying a word. I watched your face in the glow of the motion sensors as you made your way to the trunk and began unloading our bags; you looked handsome as ever in your puffed-out snow coat and black beanie. There was a time when I couldn’t resist you - when I couldn’t wait to fly out of the car and race you through the front door and into the bedroom. Now I just stood there - frozen - clutching the frayed ends of my scarf and listening to the soft sound of the snowflakes as they fell on the warm hood of the car.

I followed you inside, as did our ghosts.

***

I woke up in the middle of the night to a loud thump against the wall that seemed to have come from outside.

I lay in bed for a moment and listened to your breathing; wondering whether I should wake you. We’d fallen asleep after an argument or two about what to eat for dinner and the fact that I'd had to remind you - once again - to take your medication. We were both exhausted and emotionally depleted.

I decided to leave you alone and let you continue sleeping.

Gently pushing the covers away from myself, I slid my feet to the floor, tiptoed over to the large window, and pulled back the sheer chiffon curtains. It was just about as dark as dark can be, but I was able to make out the silhouettes of trees glowing in what little light of the moon managed to escape the densely packed storm clouds.

Snowflakes drifted in graceful, askew patterns as they fell to the ground; I didn’t see any ghostly faces among them that I recognized this time. Today was Christmas Eve Day - perhaps we really could rekindle what was left of our pieces. I glanced over to where you lay sleeping in bed. I missed you. I missed you a lot. I pulled the curtains back in their place with a long-languished sense of optimism and light in my heart.

I tiptoed back over to the bed, curled up in a ball by your side, and fell back asleep with the prospect of peace in my soul.

***

THUD.

I woke up to the loud, unsettling noise again. This time my heart was pounding. I glanced over at you. You’d always been a deep sleeper, but I wasn’t sure how it was possible you hadn’t been jolted awake this time.

I was always waking you up in the morning. Waking you up for work, waking you up for breakfast, waking you up to get you going on the days when we had somewhere to be. And, just after the incident happened, I was always waking you up for your doctor appointments.

I was - it seemed - always taking care of you. I loved you; I just questioned how much longer I’d need to be your caretaker. Your nurse.

Your mom.

As I watched the rise and fall of your chest in the darkness, I found myself contemplating all over again whether I should alert you of what was happening. It’s probably just a branch in the wind, I convinced myself. I pushed the covers aside and stepped out of bed - and, realizing I was the one who’d been doing all the protecting for the last few months anyway - I decided to once again leave you to sleep.

This time, I headed down to the kitchen. My footsteps caused the old wooden stairs to creak under my weight, and I swore I almost heard whispers in the drafts that drifted out of the heating vents.

Spooky as this cabin could be in the dark, it was actually quite lovely and charming. I flipped on the light switch as I stepped onto the main level and looked all around; I hadn’t noticed it last night when I was tired and angry at you, but you’d taken the time to drive up the day before and make everything Christmassy for me. The windows, shelves, and walls were all decorated with tinsel, ornaments, and nativity sets. A small smile swept over my lips, and for a moment I felt guilty about being so angry at you - about being so tired, hopeless, and impatient.

THUD.

There it was - again. What was that?

I glanced past the kitchen and into the main entryway. The ornaments on the Christmas tree were still gently shaking from the pulsation; the little heads on the elf and Santa Claus bobbleheads were nodding at me in their places.

Even though it seemed like a scene in a horrible movie, I decided to look out the front door.

Cautiously, I stepped through the hallway and passed the framed pictures of all the different couples and families who had visited the cabin throughout the years. Wrapping my hand around the doorknob, I took one final glance upstairs. I realized I suddenly felt small and vulnerable. I realized I wished I’d woken you up. I wondered what I was doing there without you - just like all the time that had passed since the incident…I wondered what I’d been doing there without you…

even though you were always right there.

I took a deep breath and swung the door open. All I saw before me were the powder-capped trees and the gentle, drifting fall of the ghosts: little, peculiar faces that watched me in their aimless dance to the ground.

I stood there, hypnotized, and though I heard the footsteps behind me - it was already too late:

a violent hand wrapped around my mouth and another pulled a cloak of starless night over my head.

Then, all went dark.

***

I woke up in a pitch-black space to the sound of clanks, clatters, and rummages.

I was dizzy but quickly realized my hands were tied. I was confused but quickly realized something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Though there was just enough air in the sack - or whatever it was - that had been placed over my head, the fibers from the scratchy material were irritating my throat. I let out a small cough and regretted it as soon as I did.

I heard a door swing open and felt a rush of cold air on my skin.

“Quiet,” a deep voice ordered me - and it was at that point that I immediately knew.

My heart began to pound uncontrollably in my chest, and my anxiety washed over me in a giant, unstoppable wave that triggered almost instantaneous hyperventilation.

“Who are you?” I managed to squeak out among short, shallow breaths, “what do you want?”

The unknown perpetrator wrapped a forceful, strong hand around my arm. “Stay quiet,” he said, “you don’t want to know what will happen to you if you don’t.”

I nodded, and the sack around my head bounced and scratched the skin on my neck.

“Ok,” I agreed in a shaky voice.

I felt like a mouse. Where were you? Please wake up, I pleaded silently to myself.

The door swung closed again and I continued to listen to the clanks and clatters that came from the kitchen. There seemed to be two of them. I couldn’t tell if they were taking everything in sight or if they were looking for something exceptionally specific.

I had no way to know how much time was passing. I sat there: helpless, alone, and scared; the salt from my tears forming caky tracks on my cheeks. I moved my wrists around to test the strength of the fastening job - it was no use. There was no way I could pull my hands free without ripping my skin off.

I waited. My head was pounding. Where were you? Where were you?

And then suddenly, I heard you.

Your surprised yet confident voice rang out into the hallway, wrapping itself around the angst of my soul like a warm, assuring embrace.

There was an exchange of deep hollers and vocalizations I couldn’t quite make out, then a crash of furniture items against the wall and a loud thud on the floor.

“Evangeline!” I heard you yell.

“I’m in here!” I whimpered back; my voice cracking and full of the lint from the asperous bag.

The door flew open and you pulled the cloak from my eyes. I saw you kneeling there before me, and realized it was you: it wasn’t a ghost of you that I saw anymore.

“Are you ok?” You asked once you saw me. Your voice was soft and protective, and for the first time since the incident, I could tell that you saw me, too.

I nodded, then collapsed in your arms.

***

You handled the police report and the gathering of our things from the cabin. Since we’d arrived so exhausted and had gone almost immediately to bed, nothing of ours was left out downstairs nor was it considered a part of the crime scene. Airbnb was extremely accommodating and arranged for us to stay in another cabin, which was closer to the lake and away from our phantoms.

You asked me for the millionth time if I preferred to go home, but I assured you I wanted to finish the trip we had started. I wanted to skate on the lake that never froze over. I wanted to sink into the feeling of being safe in your arms.

***

I was afraid that the ice wouldn’t hold us, but as we skated over the diamond-clear glass, the reflection of you waiting to catch me gave me the reassurance I’d needed for so long.

And then there was you, who reminded me once again I could trust you: that we were grounded. That we were solid. That we were earthly and could once again depend on each other like rocks; that we were no longer apparition-like snowflakes drifting away in the sky.

Six months ago, you'd suffered a rare medical emergency; I nearly lost you. Unable to be by your side in the hospital due to covid, I spent the next two weeks anxiously waiting by the phone for the nurses to call me with updates on your condition - there were a few times I wasn't even sure if you were alive. You spent the better part of twelve days in a coma with a ventilator attached to your chest. Your lungs were suffering not from the virus but due to pneumonia; you'd spontaneously aspirated into them during the night for reasons that no one - not even the doctors - could explain.

When you finally woke up, they told me you may never walk again. They told me that you may never be able to do many things - that you may never be the same. Somehow, by the grace of God, you pulled through it all and turned out just fine - you just had to recover.

I was so ecstatic to finally take you home; to take care of you. But I wasn't prepared for the terrible episodes of post-traumatic stress disorder that awaited me - that woke me up in the middle of the night and caused me to check and see if you were still breathing. I felt like I always had to wake you up - to check and see if you were ok.

You slowly improved, but I still felt that I had to protect you. Your lungs were weak and full of scars from pneumonia, and I had to be exceptionally careful not to let covid into our home. I fell into a terrible spell of obsessive-compulsive disorder - feeling the need to keep you at home and to sanitize the groceries to shield us from germs.

The incident, your illness, and your recovery - they were all ghosts that'd been following me around; haunting our relationship. They were phantoms that made me feel like I had to protect you; demons that had it ingrained in me that I couldn't depend on you. However, as we skated over the diamond-clear glass, I was slowly beginning to let all that go.

***

We skated around on the lake for hours - holding hands and watching the Christmas lights twinkle like stars all around us. We lost track of the time and stopped in surprise when we noticed the sun beginning to come up from behind the peaks of the mountains.

Exhausted, we made our way to the bank and collapsed in the soft, sugary powder. We smiled at each other and finally kissed; our lips sweet with the taste of hot chocolate and Christmas.

Then - deciding to say one final goodbye to our ghosts and our demons - we stretched out our limbs and made snow angels under the soft, golden light of the sun...

the sun that spread out like feathering ink and blurred out the dark, haunting cloak of the night.

The End