Steam rose from the water, before being whisked away by the wind. I reached out and caught a snowflake on my palm. For a fraction of a second, it perched there, fragile and perfect, before dissolving instantly against my skin’s heat. The contrast was incredible. I wished I could capture this someday in something I created forPoor Relation.Yes, today had really brought my desire to create. For many reasons. My breath fogged the air, mingling with the steam, making the whole scene feel strangely unreal.
Julian leaned back, eyes half-closed, tracing lazy circles in the water. I followed his lead and let myself float, muscles loosening, heart slowing. The tub seemed like a secret haven, a pocket of summer dropped into the middle of winter’s fury.I hadn’t loved it here in the summer. Maybe I was a person who wanted to visit summer and live in winter. Maybe I was overthinking it. Every part of me that remained above the water felt the bite of cold, but the rest—immersed—was safe in the heat.
We laughed together, both of us starting almost at the same time. I didn’t know why he was but for me it was the absurdity of it, the way we’d shivered just moments ago and now reveled in despite the fact that we should absolutely be inside. The wind howled, rattling the branches of the nearby trees that would lead to the bay if we decided to venture that way, but inside this small circle of warmth, I felt untouchable. Even the sky seemed closer somehow; the blizzard’s darkness made the hot tub feel like the only true thing left in the world.
I closed my eyes for a moment and simply listened—to Julian’s quiet humming, to the fizz and pop of the jets, to the distant rumble of the wind. I thought about how rare it was to feel both exposed and protected at the same time. But then I did sort of know that well. And the Lents lived that way constantly. Dangerously exposed but also protected by who they were. And I knew, right then, that I’d remember this—this heat, this laughter, this wild, impossible comfort—forever.
“Alatheia, can you tell me about my granny? Something I don’t know.”
I blinked. Yes, I could. I absolutely could. “You could wait to read the diaries. I mean, I will tell you whatever you want to know, Jules. But you could.”
He shook his head. “This is going to sound narcissistic. Terrible. Like I’m the worst fucking person ever…” His voice trailed off on whatever it was he was going to say.
“I doubt that. You are maybe the least narcissistic person I know.”
He sighed. “But her death keeps hitting me. Like I’ll be in the midst of something, like being in this hot tub, and I’ll remember she’s dead. But ten minutes ago I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“And you think you’re all the things that you just said because you aren’t thinking about it 24-7? I mean, I don’t really know how grief works. But maybe that’s just how you do it.”
He stared at me a long moment, only the stars and the snow hearing our conversation. “How was it when you grieved your mom?”
I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat. “Maybe I’m the narcissist. I don’t know if I ever did. I don’t know that I ever could.”
“You’re not…”
I shook my head, cutting him off. “This isn’t about me. Um, okay, your granny? Her red walls. She did it to get a rise out of your grandfathers. They weren’t getting along so well then She wasn’t getting pregnant. ” I hadn’t actually gotten to the part of the story where she would, yet. “And they weren’t letting her come to work. So she painted the walls red.”
He grinned at me. “And she just kept doing it?”
“She totally did.”
A whoop caught our attention, and we both turned around in the tub as his shirtless brothers ran outside into the snow. They’d spotted us and they were joining us. I grinned. Barrett emerged first, towel thrown over one shoulder—we had totally not thought about towels—I was glad to see that he had. His hair already turning white with the snow that drifted in lazy spirals from the roof. Phoenix followed, barefoot and grinning, his teeth as white as the drifts piling up around the property. Then Jeremy—last, as always—hunched into his hoodie, clutching a small canvas bag to his chest. The three of them stepped out into the blue hush of the night, exhaling plumes of steam.
Barrett tossed the towels onto the railing and shivered theatrically. “It’s so much colder than it looks,” he said, but his voice was amused. Phoenix rolled his eyes and hopped straight in, sending up a surge of hot water and a hiss of vapor. Barrett slid in after him, his toes curling against my own, and Jeremy set his bag carefully beside the tub before lowering himself onto the edge.
“Brought something,” he said, tapping the bag and meeting my eye with a crooked little smile. The snow kept falling, collecting in the hollows of his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. The hot tub was suddenly crowded, limbs brushing under the water, the air thick with breath and the faint scent of whatever chemicals they used to clean the tub. For a moment, I watched them—my odd, beloved collection of Lents—blinking snowflakes from their faces, laughter bubbling up to fill the empty spaces. The world felt warmer than it ought to, out here in the night.
Jules frowned. “You brought it out here?”
“Don’t want to wait.” He smiled. “Alatheia, we had to run that errand because we all got you something when you were missing. Something we wanted to give you because we wanted you to know how much we missed you.”
Barrett sighed. “You’re blowing this.”
Jeremy shoved his shoulder. “I am not.”
“You are.” Phoenix grinned. “But that’s okay because Alatheia loves our imperfections. Julian, do you want to do the honors?”
I was starting to worry. What the heck were they talking about? What was in that bag?
“Guys, what is going on?”
Julian grabbed the bag, looking at Barrett. “Did it turn out like the pictures?”
“Yes.” Barrett nodded. “I’ll do it. Give it to me.” He grabbed the bag from Julian. “I drove through the snow. I’m saying I get to do it.” He kissed my cheek. “Alatheia, don’t panic”
I wasn’t but maybe I was close. “Surprises haven’t been friendly to me lately.”
“This is, we promise.” Phoenix nodded fast.
