“I could have held on to anger at her over what happened with Neil, but I knew that she wasn’t really to blame.”
Selene
It was a week later, and I was taking my life back. Or, at the very least, I was trying to do that.
Back in Detroit, there was snow on the ground, and more fell each day. I loved being the first to walk down a sidewalk and watch my tracks appear behind me.
My grandmother used to say that when the snow fell, it kissed the trees and the earth and then tucked them all in under a soft, white blanket.
The roofs of the cars in the parking lots were completely white, as were the tree branches, the benches, and the roofs. Everything.
All of it white and clean.
All of it marvelous and new.
And still the snow fell, slow and gentle and soft, but also…sad, somehow.
As a child, I’d loved the snow. I loved to make snowmen as tall as I was and dress them up in Dad’s scarf or Mom’s sunglasses. It was a nice childhood memory from a normal, everyday childhood. Happy, carefree, bright. So different from Neil’s.
Did you ever play in the snow?
Did you make a snowman and watch him melt in the sun?
Did you ever laugh in the midst of a snowball fight?
Did you ever watch the snowflakes fall and think about how each one was slightly different from all the others?
I supposed I’d probably never know.
When I got back home, I dropped my bag on the floor and hung up my coat on the rack. I caught a whiff of something sweet in the air and smiled involuntarily.
“I’m back,” I called out before heading into the kitchen to look for my mother. The first thing I saw was a cherry pie on the table with a candle shaped like the number twenty stuck in it, and then my mother burst into the room brandishing an air horn. It made a sound so loud it practically burst my eardrums as she danced and cheered like a delighted child.
“Happy birthday, my love.” She pulled me into a warmly maternal hug, and I reciprocated, still a little dazed. I did take the opportunity to sneak the air horn out of her hand before she could cause permanent hearing damage.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know what kind of party favors to get. The woman at the store recommend this, and…” I cut her off with a fond shake of my head. As determined and serious as my mother could be, she could also be a ridiculous weirdo.
I could have held on to anger at her over what happened with Neil, but I knew that she wasn’t really to blame.
All she’d really done was show Neil the anxieties any normal mother would have. It was Neil’s job to reassure her that he wanted what was best for me—and to actually follow through on that. Instead, he was too scared of his own feelings and too distrustful of the concept of relationships in general.
So I couldn’t blame my mother, and I couldn’t blame Matt or Megan for the fear that Neil had displayed from the very beginning of our acquaintance. Sure, they may have further discouraged him or added fuel to his belief that he was not capable of having a real relationship with someone, but fundamentally, Neil had always believed that the only thing he had to give to a woman was his body.
“Mom, just the birthday song would have been fine…” I rubbed my ear, and before we sat down to have some pie, I grabbed her hand. We exchangeda knowing look and a pair of big grins. We both knew what had to happen when it snowed on my birthday.
“Wait, let me get on my coat and gloves,” she said, and a few minutes later we were out on the lawn in front of the house, ready to build our traditional birthday snowman. Together, we found the perfect flat area and piled up a useful heap of snow. I knelt down and began shaping it and patting it down so it could form the base of our snowman. From time to time, I’d lob a snowball at my mother, who tried to use her red winter hat with its cute little pom-poms to shield herself.
Sometimes I wondered which one of us was really the kid and which the grown-up.
“Perfect.” I smiled in satisfaction as I admired the three large balls of snow stacked on top of one another. That was when my mother produced two round stones and a carrot so I could give our snowman a face. I dug through the snow until I could find a handful of pebbles to use for his sullen mouth.
“He’s kind of grumpy, this snowman,” my mother noted, standing before him with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side.
“I need a leather jacket, Mom,” I said, grabbing two serviceable sticks and sticking them into the snow to create arms. My mother watched me thoughtfully before making a skeptical face and heading into the house. A few minutes later, she came back with a leather jacket that had red studs on the shoulders. I took it from her and wrapped it around the snowman, sliding the sticks into the armholes.
“There. Since Neil couldn’t be here, I’ve made a snowman version of him. Of course, the real Neil is a little taller and broader, but it’s a pretty good likeness, isn’t it?” I turned to my mother, who was staring at me like I’d completely lost my mind. She broke into peals of laughter, and I cocked an eyebrow at her.
What was so weird about it?
