Only then, when I’m far enough away that no one can hear or see me, do I let myself feel it.
The ring in my pocket is a lead weight, and it drags me further down my spiral of sadness. I reach down and grab it from the front of my shorts, snapping the small velvet box open.
I had it delivered to Jake’s thrift store, afraid that she would somehow find it before I was ready to ask her.
In a thin gold band sits a blue stone.
Small. Crooked. Sapphire.
I thought she would like it, knowing that she likes unusual and imperfect things, and you can just tell this ring had a history. I thought she’d smile down at it the way she smiles at me. Like I’m something worth keeping.
How could I have been so stupid, to think that she’d want me, want us?
I lean against the pine, chest heaving.
“I’m just a vacation fling, a footnote in her story,” I whisper to the empty woods. “A stupid”—my voice breaks—“snowman.”
The words said aloud tear something open inside of me, and before I can think, I pull my fist back and slam it into the tree.
The trunk shudders, the shockwave sends snow falling from its branches overhead in a sheet of white. Bark splinters beneath my knuckles.
“I’m such an idiot,” I choke. “Thinking I was something more to someone, thinking that I wasn’t alone—”
A sound breaks through my spiral of despair, and I freeze as I hear something crunch snow softly under its foot.
When I slowly lift my head, I see him.
There, between the pine trees heavy with snow, stands a white stag.
Tall, still, and nearly glowing. Its coat sparkles in the dimming light of the evening, almost as though it’s made of the snow itself with antlers carved of ice. Its breath comes in small puffs that create gentle clouds in front of the deer’s pink nose. It stares at me with those knowing, ancient eyes.
We look at each for a long moment, and I forget to breathe. There’s a silence between us, deep and sacred. Something inside me settles, a calm certainty flowing through my body.
The stag steps closer, the soft compression of snow the only noise in the forest, and dips his head.
“I’m falling apart,” I tell the animal, my voice raw. “I don’t know what to do.”
The stag blinks slowly as a sense of wordless reassurance settles into my bones. It’s like the forest itself has reached out its hand to steady me when I needed it the most.
Get a hold of yourself,the feeling says.Don’t let her see you break, not like this.
“You’re right,” I whisper. “I have to fight for what I want.”
I can’t hide, I can’t let the fear of losing her have me risk my shot at getting Daphne back. I have to face whatever’s coming my way head-on.
I have to be a snowman.
I hold my clasped hands up to the stag, as if to say thank you, and turn toward the lights of the town.
As I walk back to the ice rink, tourists with brown-stained jackets hold their fresh cocoa cups dramatically away from themselves. I grimace, throwing out a few “sorries” every twenty feet or so.
I do my best to keep my eyes toward my feet until I get closer to our little parade viewing spot. But when I finally look up, I don’t see the person I want most.
Daphne is nowhere to be seen on the street, nor are Gerald and his grandmother.
My heart plummets straight into my stomach, and I push through the crowd on the opposite side of the street, directly in front of Ted’s.
My chest tightens so hard that it hurts. She left.
