“Don’t forget your present on the table!”
With Joe’s plea pounding the back of my conscience, I pulled the present toward me, untied the big purple ribbon, and popped the lid off. There, pristine and expensive, were a pair of leather boots. Not the most fashionable things I’d ever seen, but they looked sturdy; water-proofed and thick-soled. I could probably wear these for twenty years. They’d certainly be warmer than my Converse.
Rachel came back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Do you like them?” she asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice, and failing miserably.
“They’re great.” And then an idea began to form in my mind. I smiled at her. “I’m going to test them out.” I tugged the Converse off my feet and shoved the boots on.
“What, now?” Rachel asked as I laced them up.
“Perfect weather to test boots in.” I stood up and headed out the front door without waiting for her permission. As soon as I was clear of all the windows, I headed to the back of the house where the trail led into the woods. It had been snowing all day and even the thickly wooded sections of the path were covered in snow.
Eventually, I reached the giant boulder I’d fallen from nearly a month ago. That night was still muddled. The place looked familiar, but almost like I’d seen it in a movie, or a photograph, and was only now visiting it in person for the first time. I started climbing, careful to test my footing before I advanced. Everything was white, pristine, and the snow somehow made the silence feel complete.
I hadn’t really come here with a plan—I hadn’t even really planned to come here. But now that I was, I found myself pulling my gloves off, and my hat. I unwound the scarf from around my neck and felt the frigid air snake down the back of my jacket. I took that off, too, tossing it to the ground. I sat in the snow, ignoring how it soaked my jeans, and peeled my sweater over my head, inhaling sharply as the cold air stung my skin. There was a pain to the coldness, but it was disconnected, somehow. I knew I should put the sweater back on, and the jacket, and go somewhere warm—but I didn’t do that. Instead, I lay down on the boulder and noticed, looking straight up at the sky, that it had begun to snow again. The flakes got caught in my eyelashes, tickling me. I laughed, and I couldn’t stop laughing, even when tears started pouring down my cheeks.
I’d been sad before—many, many times over the years. On the anniversary of my dad’s death, on his birthday, on my parents’ wedding anniversary watching my mom drink herself to sleep. And I was always sad on my own birthday because my dad wasn’t there, and because I remembered him less and less. But this year—today—there was no one left to be sad with.
At least there were no more hospitals or fluorescent lights, no more rapidly mutating cells, no more IVs and blood draws and people poking at what was left of my mother. I wondered if I would ever get back up from this rock. There was nothing I really wanted to get up for. I started to shiver—snowflakes melting and running down my arms and stomach, but more took their place because it was still coming down, white flakes from a white sky on a white, silent afternoon.
Just as I was sliding into a nice little nap, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me off the boulder. I fell roughly to the ground, knees crunching in the snow.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Adrian demanded, glaring at me as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“What am I doing?” I asked, blinking rapidly. “What are you doing?”
How the hell was he here at the same time as me—again?
He put his coat over my shoulders but I knocked it off, turning to climb back up.
“Caitlin, you’re freezing!” He grabbed me around the waist and his hands felt like fire on my numb skin.
“No shit,” I tossed back. “Let go of me!”
“No.”
I clawed at his hands, struggled and fought; trying to kick him, get him off balance so I could climb back up again, but he wouldn’t let go and he wouldn’t fall over.
“Why do you have to ruin everything?” I screamed, tearing my nails into his arms through his sweater sleeves, hating him more than I’d ever hated anyone in my life.
He just held me tighter, grabbing my wrists and crossing them over my chest so I couldn’t scratch him. “Caitlin, stop.”
“Just leave me alone!”
Using his superior weight, he forced me to my knees and followed me down; we bent forward, breathing heavily, unable to move.
“No,” he repeated in my ear.
“Why not?” I sobbed, angry that he was stronger than me and bigger; angry that I couldn’t break free no matter how angry I was.
He let me go and stood up. But before I had time to feel relieved, to feel happy, to feel blank, he grabbed my arm again and dragged me to my feet, glaring. “I saved you once, I can do it again.”