Snow Angels

Outside, it snowed. Inside, the family ate supper.

“The potatoes are too salty, Marjorie. Did you add a lot of salt to them?”

Marjorie shook her head and then leaned down to tie her shoe.

“Where’s Greg?”

“Who?”

“Cousin Greg”

“Oh. Gregory. He’s away. In New York City, if you can believe it. With his girlfriend”

“Fiancé, Barbara. It’s his Fiancé.”

“Well…I’ll believe it when I see it, Marjorie”

“Pop, can we go out after dinner and make a snowman?”

“Maybe, son. For now let’s finish eating. Eat your vegetables and your potatoes. They’ll get cold”

“You don’t have to eat them if their too salty, Tim”

“Barbara, please”

They sat in silence again. Finally, Peter, the Father, said, “I think the potatoes are great, Marjorie". Barbara furrowed her brow slightly and looked over at Peter. “I suppose”, she said.

“Can we call him at least?”

“Who?”

“Whom”

“What?”

“Call whom, Mom”

“Oh, jeez. OK, Professor. Call whom?”

“GREG!”

“Again with Greg!”

Greg was Marjorie’s son, Barbara’s Nephew.

“Honey, there’s a time difference. It’s late where your Cousin Greg is”, said Marjorie.

“What time is it there?”

“Oh, let’s see…” Marjorie checked her watch. “Well, it’s almost 8 here so…almost 11. 11pm”

“Oh, boy. I can’t even stay up til 11!”

“That’s right! It’s past your bedtime there! So let’s let Greg be for tonight. OK, Tim?”

“OK, Aunt Marjorie”

Barbara stood up and scratched her thigh. She announced, “I’m going into the kitchen to fix a drink and take dessert out of the oven. Does anyone need anything?”

“Some milk, Mom”

“I’ll have a scotch, Barb. On the rocks”

“Marjorie?”

“No, thank you. I’m…I’m going to go outside and get some air”

Marjorie stood up and looked at Barbara for a moment before turning and walking to the door.

“Is Aunt Marjorie OK, Pop?”

“She’ll be fine, Tim. She…she….just misses your Cousin Greg a lot”

“I miss him too”

“Not like she does, son. It’s…different when…you’ll understand when you have kids”

“Eww. I do NOT want to have kids. You have to put your pee-pee in a girl’s butthole to have a baby”

Peter laughed in spite of himself.

“Tim! Watch your mouth!”, Barbara yelled from the kitchen.

“Tim. You don’t…son, who told you that?”

“Bobby Jenkins. He said that’s how you make a baby”

“That’s not how it works”

“He lied? But he never lies. His parents go to church and everything”

“I’m sure he thinks he’s right, Tim. That’s not how it works though”

“How do you make a baby then?”

Peter sat speechless for a moment. He grabbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh.

“Um…I don’t…how old are you now, son?”

“Eight. Pop! My birthday was just last month!”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m not…well…” Peter leaned closer to Tim. “I’ll tell you later, OK? When your Mother isn’t around”, he whispered.

“Is it a secret?” Tim whispered back.

“No…but I don’t know if your Mother wants you to know quite yet. Alright?”

“Alright”

Outside, Marjorie sat on the cold ground smoking a cigarette. She looked up at the stars in the dark, cloudless sky.

“Pop, I’m done with my supper. Can I go outside and play with Aunt Marjorie?”

Peter let out another sigh. “I suppose. I need to talk with your Mother anyway. But, Tim…if your Aunt says she wants to be alone…leave her alone, OK?”

“OK, Pop”

Tim put on his hat and gloves and went outside to sit next to Marjorie who was now lying on the cold ground.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Nothing, Tim. Just…thinking”

“About what?”

“Oh…nothing. Your Cousin Greg. Your Mother. Lots of things”. She flicked her cigarette over the hill, into the darkness.

Marjorie turned to Tim and smiled.

“Why you sitting on the cold, wet ground like that? You’re gonna get cold, Aunt Marjorie”

“No reason, Tim.”

“You want to make a snow angel?”

Marjorie laughed.

“Ha. I haven't made a snow angel in...sure. You and me, kiddo. Let's make us a whole army of snow angels”

“OK!”

Marjorie and Tim lay in the snow for some time, making snow angels and laughing.

Inside, Barbara and Peter got drunk in the kitchen and ate blackberry pie.

“Let’s go see what the kids are up to, Peter”

“Your Sister isn’t a kid, Barb. She’s a grown woman”

“Oh, hush. You know what I mean”

Peter and Barbara laughed when they found Tim and Marjorie in the snow like that.

“You wanna help make snow angels, Ma?”

“Oh, what the hell. Peter?”

“Shit. Why the hell not?”

“Pop! You said the s word!”

“It’s OK, Tim. You can say that word when you’re an adult”

“I can’t wait to be an adult!”

The family spent the long winter night outside like that. The smoke from their breath hovered in the air above them; it drifted up above their heads and then over the house until it became invisible.

You're Not the Boss of Me

“You’re not the boss of me, Sarah”

My baby takes the morning train…

“Party? What party?”

The restaurant held many conversations and words. They all floated into her.

“Cheese”

“Mom!”

“It just can’t handle that kind of job, Bill. That’s what your problem is”

“It just doesn’t pay enough”

It all swirled in her head. She had a lot on her mind as it was.

Her Father’s impending visit, her mid-term, how many calories the cheeseburger she was eating contained, why her Mother couldn’t just quit smoking.

“These fries are pretty good”

“Go sit with Grandma, honey”

“Number 46, your order is ready”

She felt like crying. The stress of living was catching up with her. She could feel herself gaining weight in that little restaurant. She could feel her skin getting worse, pores clogging. She was starting to lose it. She started daydreaming about ambulances. She imagined that on slow nights when there were no accidents that all the ambulances and their drivers gathered in large parking lots and listened to music and told each other stories and laughed and embraced not having to deal with death or injury.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you call him back?”

“Where’s El Paso?”

“The whole thing felt like a dream”

The Dream

I had a dream last night, Bill. A weird one.

Bill nodded as if to say, “go on”.

It was Thanksgiving and we were at your Mother’s house for supper.

Bill took a drink from his glass of whiskey and she continued.

And your Mother was in color but everybody else, including you and me…we were in black and white. And we were eating turkey at the dining room table.

Bill kept listening while he lit a cigarette.

At one point you bit down on some bone from the turkey and your tooth fell out.

Bill turned his head up slightly and blew smoke up towards the light overhead.

“My tooth? Fell out?”

She laughed.

Yes! And it was the strangest thing but as I kept eating I noticed that my mouth was bleeding.

“Your mouth?”

Yes. Isn’t that strange? The blood just kept coming and coming until my whole plate was covered in blood.

Bill finished his drink and smirked.

“How strange, Martha”

Martha poured herself a drink and laughed.

Yes, I thought so.

She sat down next to him and put his hand in hers.

I wonder if it means anything?

They sat like that for a time.

A letter

Dear _______,

Well, I made it! In one piece, no less! I hope this finds you well. I miss you.
On the bus yesterday I saw these 2 homeless people, a man and a woman. They both reeked of cheap booze and dirt but they clearly both loved each other very much. The man helped the woman on the bus and they held hands, the woman even rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. I thought of you when I saw that, thought that it was something you would find charming in a weird way.

I also had an idea for your movie. You know how you want to have an interesting credit sequence without wasting time or taking away from the story? You could start the movie in James' apartment and he could be sitting there and watching tv and he could get the phone call from June still but while he is on the phone the credits are on the tv screen. Or something like that. I don't know, you're the genius. Not me. I hope you are doing well with your writing and your movies.

I hope you find the time and money to visit soon. This town needs more ______'s in it.

Well, I suppose I should get going. Just wanted to say hello. Write me back! I never get mail anymore.

Love, _________