Nothing to hold on to but each other. Nothing keeping us on but our mass, our bodies a cohesive unit.We were pulled along snowy, moon-lit fields as we sang Christmas carols and drank hot, spiced alcohol from the wine skins that were being passed around. I was high on both alcohol and marijuana by the end of the ride, cheeks flushed with fresh air. Happier in that moment than I was sure I’d ever been in my entire life.
We got off the sleigh much as we had got on, not as individual bodies but as some multilimbed and awkward thing, tripping over itself. I found myself on my ass in the snow, laughing. “Oh, Lord,” Krista announced. “You’re loaded.” I just laughed and fell back, started flailing my arms and legs into a snow angel. We were back in front of the building and I was lying on a skiff of snow on a gravel lot, my snow angel grinding pebbles into my back. Nick and I used to dare each other to fall into a snow angel without bending a limb, an experiment that had knocked the wind out of us both more than once. Krista tried to pull me up but I couldn’t stop laughing or get any control over my limbs, which felt heavy and fluid, and soon we were both on the ground in a heap. “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” we chorused.
That’s how I met him. He and an older man came down from the porch and pulled Krista and me off the ground as though we truly needed help. The older man was behind me, his arms hooked under my armpits pulling me to my feet. When I was upright, he held me there for a moment, waiting, I presumed, until I gained balance. “What’s so funny, girls?” the older man asked from behind me. When he said that, I started again, laughing so hard I would’ve fallen if I wasn’t being held up.
“She’s just fucked up,” Krista explained, grinning. I saw the younger man behind her. As I tried to catch my breath I focused on his face. In that moment, that small window of rest in my laughter, his expression seemed to convey several things at once. I saw in his face amusement, sadness, and recognition, as though he was trying to place me, or wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
Krista and I struggled to gain some composure but, as soon as we saw our own expressions reflected in each other’s face, we spat out laughter again. It turned into steam around us. The older one let go of his hold on me and shifted so he could look at both of us. “Whew, I’d like to have a bit of whatever you two had,” he said.
“You probably can,” said Krista. “Whatever we had, we got it here.”
He held out his hand to one of us, then the other, to shake. “Thomas.” More of a statement than an introduction.
The younger one simply stared. I thought there might be something wrong with him. I cracked a grin and he beamed back. His eyes were huge. Even the crinkling of a smile didn’t diminish them. Dark hair fell in thick curls over his forehead. His body was lost under layers of clothes. “I’m Gabe,” he finally said but didn’t hold out his hand for us to shake. He was too close to our age to do that.
“There’s hot chocolate in the cookshack. You two want some?” Thomas asked.
“Oh, my God!” Krista exclaimed.
Thomas took a step back, laughing. “Whoa, Nellie. What?”
“Don’t mind her,” I said. “We would just
really
love some hot chocolate right now.” People who are used to smoking pot forget about how extreme it can be at first, how good the thought of chocolate can taste.
“Oh my God!” Krista repeated. “Why didn’t anyone tell us there was hot chocolate?”
It wasn’t like I read it would be. I didn’t feel Gabe’s presence like heat; I didn’t feel like I’d always known him. My legs did turn to water, but only because of the intoxicants. Nothing fluttering and small lodged in my chest. When I met him, what I did feel was my tongue, like a stone under a river current, rubbed smooth.
G ABE
Peter and Anise have decided you should be
We got off the sleigh much as we had got on, not as individual bodies but as some multilimbed and awkward thing, tripping over itself. I found myself on my ass in the snow, laughing. “Oh, Lord,” Krista announced. “You’re loaded.” I just laughed and fell back, started flailing my arms and legs into a snow angel. We were back in front of the building and I was lying on a skiff of snow on a gravel lot, my snow angel grinding pebbles into my back. Nick and I used to dare each other to fall into a snow angel without bending a limb, an experiment that had knocked the wind out of us both more than once. Krista tried to pull me up but I couldn’t stop laughing or get any control over my limbs, which felt heavy and fluid, and soon we were both on the ground in a heap. “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” we chorused.
That’s how I met him. He and an older man came down from the porch and pulled Krista and me off the ground as though we truly needed help. The older man was behind me, his arms hooked under my armpits pulling me to my feet. When I was upright, he held me there for a moment, waiting, I presumed, until I gained balance. “What’s so funny, girls?” the older man asked from behind me. When he said that, I started again, laughing so hard I would’ve fallen if I wasn’t being held up.
“She’s just fucked up,” Krista explained, grinning. I saw the younger man behind her. As I tried to catch my breath I focused on his face. In that moment, that small window of rest in my laughter, his expression seemed to convey several things at once. I saw in his face amusement, sadness, and recognition, as though he was trying to place me, or wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
Krista and I struggled to gain some composure but, as soon as we saw our own expressions reflected in each other’s face, we spat out laughter again. It turned into steam around us. The older one let go of his hold on me and shifted so he could look at both of us. “Whew, I’d like to have a bit of whatever you two had,” he said.
“You probably can,” said Krista. “Whatever we had, we got it here.”
He held out his hand to one of us, then the other, to shake. “Thomas.” More of a statement than an introduction.
The younger one simply stared. I thought there might be something wrong with him. I cracked a grin and he beamed back. His eyes were huge. Even the crinkling of a smile didn’t diminish them. Dark hair fell in thick curls over his forehead. His body was lost under layers of clothes. “I’m Gabe,” he finally said but didn’t hold out his hand for us to shake. He was too close to our age to do that.
“There’s hot chocolate in the cookshack. You two want some?” Thomas asked.
“Oh, my God!” Krista exclaimed.
Thomas took a step back, laughing. “Whoa, Nellie. What?”
“Don’t mind her,” I said. “We would just
really
love some hot chocolate right now.” People who are used to smoking pot forget about how extreme it can be at first, how good the thought of chocolate can taste.
“Oh my God!” Krista repeated. “Why didn’t anyone tell us there was hot chocolate?”
It wasn’t like I read it would be. I didn’t feel Gabe’s presence like heat; I didn’t feel like I’d always known him. My legs did turn to water, but only because of the intoxicants. Nothing fluttering and small lodged in my chest. When I met him, what I did feel was my tongue, like a stone under a river current, rubbed smooth.
G ABE
Peter and Anise have decided you should be
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