He laughs at himself. He’s been tongue-tied around that woman since I’ve known him. One day, he’ll figure it out. He unzips his jacket so the firefighter logo on his hoodie shows. “Am I good?” He brushes his fingers through his hair.
“You’re great. Good luck, buddy.”
“Sick. Okay. This is the moment.” He rolls his shoulders and takes off at a half-jog. He’s too full of energy to walk like a normal person. Hopefully, the 333rdtime is the charm.
I turn my attention to the walkway in front of the trailer. A light dusting of snow has already accumulated, and I grab the shovel to clear it away. The repetitive motion is soothing, allowing my mind to wander back to the sketch I want to do. I watch the light play on the walkway and note where the shadows fall.
Just as I’m finishing up, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see my sister, Terra’s, name flashing on the screen. With a sigh, I answer.
“Hey, Terra. What’s up?”
“Noah. Just checking in on my favorite brother. How are things at the ol’ skate shack?”
I can hear the affection in her voice, tinged with something else—concern, maybe? “Everything’s fine. Same as always.”
There’s a pause, and I brace myself for what I know is coming. “So... are you bringing anyone to dinner on Christmas this year?” Terra is a state away, and I usually drive to her house for Christmas. It’s more fun to spend the day with my nieces and nephews than to sit alone.
“No, Terra. Just me, as usual.”
She lets out a small huff of frustration. “Noah, you need to get out of there. Ask someone out. Anyone. What about that girl, Olivia? The art teacher?”
I scoff, thinking of Olivia’s vibrant purple hair and the way she always seems to be buzzing with energy. “She’s way too... much for me. We’d have nothing in common.”
“You both like art. You need someone to shake things up a bit. You can’t keep hiding in that trailer forever.”
Her words hit a little too close to home, and I feel my defenses rising. “I’m not hiding, Terra. I’m content.”
Terra sighs, and I can picture her shaking her head. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it for now. But promise me you’ll at least think about putting yourself out there a bit more? I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“No. You just don’t know how miserable you are. I was the same way before I met Greg.”
I let her statement sit in the silence while I worked out a response. Terra and Greg somehow managed to keep that stupid level of newlywed happiness going for ten years straight. They are constantly hugging, kissing, teasing, and flirting with each other in front of everyone else. It was bad enough when they were first married, but I gave them a new-love pass back then. Now, it’s just annoying.
“Why do happily married people think they’re the only happy ones on the planet? Single people can be happy too.” I stow my shovel on the organizer hook just outside the door.
“Because when you’re happy alone, and you find your person, you times that happy by a million.” She sighs like a teenager and I can draw her hugging herself in my head.
“Sure, Terra. I’ve got to go now. Customers to serve and all that.”
“Mom and Dad did it wrong,” she blurts out like this is a huge secret she’s been holding onto all year, only to spoil the surprise 30 days before Christmas.
I gulp. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that they aren’t doing marriage the right way. When I met Greg, I fell in love with him in seconds, and I swore that I wouldn’t turn out like them. So I do the exact opposite of what they would do every single day, every minute. I’m afraid that you think you’re doing that by being alone, but you’re not. You’re side-stepping.
“That’s something to think about,” I conceded. “I really have to go.” There’s a guy coming my way. He’s far enough away that I can’t make out his face, but he moves like he’s young—and peppy.
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
The guy swerves off the path and toward a bench, where a plump gray squirrel is perched, its tail twitching expectantly.
Curious despite myself, I watch as the stranger reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a handful of granola. He holds it out to the squirrel, which chatters as he approaches. It reminds me of my sister and me. I only get a few words in among her dozens. The squirrel is my sister, by the way. She walks right up to the man and selects several larger pieces, which she shoves into her cheeks. She’s talking the whole time and gesturing as if telling her life story.
The man listens. I shake my head. He is not listening to a squirrel…is he? I squint and look closer. Yep. He’s bent his head and is paying close attention. He nods and sets the pile of granola on the end of the bench and then brushes off his palms. The squirrel scampers away and then is back in a flash to grab another armful.
