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Warmth of the Snow

For Tag Photo Game Challenge and the challenge whereby one letter cannot be used.

By Paul StewartPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 5 min read

"Pretty!", Jonathon remarked as he turned from Sandy to look out onto snow-covered grounds of the hotel. They had been forced to stay together after all transport had been cancelled out of town. "Pretty vacant..." Sandy responded, full of sarcasm.

"That slur meant for me?" asked Jonathon. "Oh, not at all, Jonathon. There are many worse people one would hate to be here stuck next to, at a rundown hotel at the edge of a town no one remembers. Many that don't seem to be at the forefront of my thoughts now." she laughed through more sarcasm. "Classy, real classy Sandy" Jonathon grumbled. "Why we ever ended up together that January puzzles me."

Truthfully, they both knew why. Vodka and the fact they were the only two at the work conference not partnered up and lusty need led them to share a bed. Though he had always gave the same answer, when asked about whether he regretted the tryst or not, he knew that he had longed for that moment to blossom and become a fresh hope for a future where he was not alone.

There was always an undercurrent of tenderness and closeness between them. He was sure Sandy would always try to deny or downplay the fact, regardless of how clear or palpable the unspoken bond was. That was her way, protected by armour, toughened by the past.

"You act as though you were forced on top of me! We both had a drunken fumble after dark – we had fun, but can't we let the past... stay there?" Sandy reasoned, annoyed that he had chosen now to broach the one subject she would rather not talk about. The reason she has done her level best to stay out of Jonathon's way was because she knew he had fallen for her. She knew they were not a good match. She was venom and her black heart would bury Jonathon - she was sure of that. As honest-to-God good as those hours spent under the sheets, tangled together were and how good he made her feel - she knew no good would come.

"Okay. Let's talk about another subject. What do you make of the redundancy plans? Are you safe?" Jonathon offered, as to not upset the apple cart. Really, he was glad to be stuck there close to Sandy. Had he been back home, he would have been lonely and used run, vodka, vermouth or all three to dull the ache.

"Not sure anyone can feel safe now. The company has been through so many troughs and too few peaks after the storm that 2020 brought" Sandy groaned, as she made herself at home on the futon that sat across from the snowscape framed by a border of seasonal accoutrement as she looked out. Jonathon had taken a stool to watch the serene, snow-covered landscape as the sun set.

"Whatever happens. We'll be okay. Don't worry." reassured Jonathon. Sandy was not so sure, but had always loved Jonathon's outlook. An outlook that was flawed, she was sure, but commendable, nonetheless. She knew the fear he had of a lonely future, though never let on.

That moment they shared under the cover of dark and soft sheets, when sleep had taken over Jonathon's spent body and heart, and she lay there, she heard Jonathon talk as he slept. Truths were revealed as he slumbered.

Truths and secrets, one and the same really - the wants and needs of the heart - should be kept as such - she told herself. That was why she had never broached the subject, not even to reassure Jonathon. To be honest, she was not sure she could reassure the poor man.

Her heart was not made for love, that was all she knew. A jungle rumble under some cotton was all she could handle.

The fantasy of her and Jonathon together was one she kept as a memento of that moment. A moment of pure and raw honesty, where walls were broken down and armour removed. But, why wreck that moment, she told herself then and told herself once more as they sat. "Team does not have a you" her mother told Sandy constantly through her youth. "Be your own woman, dear and you'll never know hurt".

Funny the words that stay, she thought as she looked across at Jonathon.

He was surely not the sort of man that her mother had meant, but she knew that looks could be just that - looks. Jonathon seemed more than just a pretty package though, she had to concur. He was all charm and encouragement, safe to be around and had the best heart of anyone she knew. Even her slurs and put-downs would not stop Jonathon or damage that boundless hope he had.

"Whatever happens, you'll be okay.", John offered warmly as he reached out to stroke her arm. "How can you be so sure?" she asked, really, for an excuse to forget her qualms and offer herself to the best man she knew.

"You are you, and you are great. Flawed, but smart. Broken, but strong. You are you. You have always found your own way, no matter what has been thrown at you. Always dazzled me by your perseverance and the way you take problems and create successes. Whatever you choose to do next, you can make a success. Whether we work together or not, you can count on my support."

Those words, free from any angle or agenda (Sandy knew Jonathon well enough to know that was how he truly felt), were what she needed to hear there and then. As he stroked her arm, she lay her other arm across her chest and placed her hand gently on top of Jonathon's.

Maybe... they had a future. Maybe. She had to stay strong though. What would become of all they knew after they got together? That scared her. The unknown. Jonathon seemed to love that aspect of our esse.

They sat, soundless, and felt more connected to one another than any two people should dare to or hope to feel.

Whatever the future held for them, they had a long weekend together. One that they both secretly hoped ended the same way.

"Why would we sully what we have?" Sandy asked as she broke the hushed moment between them.

"Why would we pass up on the chance for more?"

Sandy closed her eyes, content for the moment, she had no counter-argument she could put forward.

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About the Creator

Paul Stewart

Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.

The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!

Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!

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    Written by Paul Stewart