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Lawson
Hours later the car had grown cold, and what little hope I had of getting back to the house before midnight was dwindling. The snow was still coming down, but not as heavy. The car was stuck though, and nothing I could do would get it going again. We had to stay where we were, in the car, bundled up in what blankets we had, until the tow truck could get to us.
I checked the clock on the phone. Eleven-fifteen. We’d been in the car for over two hours now. It was getting really cold. I swiped it open and called the tow driver again.
“Munton’s,” the voice answered on the other end.
“Hey, just checking in on if you have an ETA,” I said.
“Not yet,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do really. All my drivers are out, and I had to go get one of them because they were stuck before I could come to you. I’m on my way now, but I have to tell you, it’s rough out there. It will take me a bit. I’m doing the best I can, though.”
“I know, and I appreciate it,” I said. “It’s just cold.”
“I understand,” he said. “I hate that you guys are stuck out there, but I can’t move any faster than I am. I’ll let you know when I’m close.”
“Thank you,” I said, and hung up.
“I don’t think I can crochet anymore. My fingers are numb,” Holly said. “Plus, even with the snow, it’s dark.”
“It is,” I said. “Come here.”
I flipped the console over so that the space between us was empty and we both scooted a little closer to each other. I didn’t realize just how cold the seats were until I moved. Leaving the place where my backside had made it warmer to a cooler spot was alarming, but the reward was worth it. Holly curled into my arms and we wrapped both blankets around us on top of each other, effectively trapping the heat better.
Holly’s head rested on my chest as we sat in the quiet. The snow had piled high on the windshield and every so often I would turn the battery on to use the wiper, but it was immediately covered again only seconds later. Thankfully the driver’s window was facing away from the wind and stayed relatively clear, though it fogged up easily. If the headlights of the tow truck were coming, it would be the only way I would see them.
I checked my phone again. Eleven-twenty. The weather app showed that it was ten degrees.
It was almost Christmas. For all the preparation we did, for all the building up of the day I had made to her and in my own head, this was how we were going to ring in the holiday. Stuck on the side of the road, freezing, and hoping that we could get picked up before we both had icicles dripping from our noses.
“You know,” Holly said, “this reminds me of something.”
“This?” I asked. “Being trapped in a snowstorm in a car?”
She nodded, her breath warm on my chest.
“I was about six, I think. I was staying with my other grandmother while on Christmas break, right before Christmas. It was a weird time with my parents. They were trying to work things out. So, I spent a few days here and there with my grandma, which I didn’t mind because she just let me do whatever. If I wanted to stay up late and watch ’50s TV show reruns, I could.
“Anyway, she had this tiny little house. No more than a thousand square feet. Two bedrooms, both the size of matchboxes. She didn’t have central heat in the house but there was this big fireplace in the center, and when it was going it kept the whole place warm.
“Then, one day, Granny asked if I wanted to go to the store with her. I was excited because that meant she was going to get something specific to make. She didn’t just go to the store. It was always a set day, so if she was randomly going on a different day it meant she was up to something.”
“My mom was like that. She grocery shopped on Monday. Only Monday.”
“Right,” Holly said, “like that. She was nearly religious about it. So, I figured, hey, I’m getting cookies or something out of this deal, and hopped into the car. The snow had already hit us, but it was snowing again when we went out. Just light stuff. Then we got back to the car from inside the store and it was coming down really hard. Granny tried to comfort me, but I was afraid.
“We started down the road, and Granny hit a patch of ice and skidded off through a guardrail. Thankfully, it was just one of those ones they set up way before a bridge and we didn’t go anywhere except this grassy median. But we were stuck there. The snow was heavy and we ended up waiting until this guy in a pickup saw us and helped push it out. I remember yanking on the steering wheel while they pushed, trying to help get it out.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s crazy.”
She nodded, snuggling harder into my chest.
“When we got back, my Gran was so happy she made a bunch of cookies and ended up calling the man who helped us out of the ditch. He swung by and picked up a dozen of them to take home to his family. I’ll never forget how jealous I was he was getting my cookies, but Gran made sure I had plenty.”
“Good grandma,” I said.
“The best. I had two amazing grandmas,” she said. “What about you? Have you ever been trapped in a car in the snow before?”
“Sure, loads of times,” I said. “But usually in the middle of a city and not on an isolated, dark road. I drive a lot for my work, though, and going through places like Chicago and Minneapolis, snow is a common thing. I’ve had to pull over and wait out storms before.”
“I bet,” she said.
I wondered if she was bristling at the mention of my life away from Snowflake Hollow. A life that seemed so far away right now. But still, my life. Where did Holly fit into that? It was a question we were both going to have to address soon. But not now. Not while we depended on each other’s body heat for warmth. Not while we had our Christmas wish distilled simply to being back at the house, cozied up by the fire.
“Better thoughts,” I said. “Let’s focus on better thoughts. What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”
“Oh, you would ask me that,” she said. “Does this year count?”
“No.”
“Why?” she asked. “That was my best Christmas memory, hands down.”
“Nope, something from childhood. Go.”
“All right,” she said. “Let me think about it. You first.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“Mine is easy,” I said. “The Christmas after I turned eight.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“Well, we were living in the house I grew up in, right? It was on this little street with a couple of neighborhood kids I played with all the time. Good house, good memories. But Christmas was especially fun because we would all decorate the house like crazy.”
“I figured you had,” she said. “You seem to be an expert at it.”
I shrugged.
“I got good at it. Especially later on when I was a teenager. I used to sell my services to my neighbors, going around with a ladder and offering to help them put up lights. I wanted to make a business out of it when I grew up, but I quickly realized there wasn’t much of a market for it outside of old folks,” I said.
“And me,” Holly said. “But carry on.”
I laughed.
“True. Anyway, I was eight, and I was starting to figure out we didn’t have much money, you know? So, when I filled out my Christmas list, I intentionally didn’t put anything too expensive. I didn’t know how it worked, but I had a feeling that my mom read my letter to Santa and tried to get what she could. So I made a second, secret letter to send to him with all the expensive stuff on it.”
“Like the kids at the Children’s Hospital,” Holly said.
“Sort of,” I said. “Anyway, I made this second letter and got a stamp on my way home from school and everything. I put it in the mailbox without telling Mom and then sat back to enjoy Christmas. It was only a day or two before Christmas Eve when I did that, but hey, Santa is magic, right?
“So, Christmas morning comes and there are a bunch of gifts under the tree, but I didn’t see the one that was on top of the list for Santa.”
“What was it?”
“A bike, specifically this Huffy bike I’d had my eye on at the sporting goods store for months. It was expensive, or at least relatively expensive, and when I didn’t see it I was a little crushed. I tried not to show it, but I was. Then Mom asked if something was wrong and I said there was just something I had asked Santa for that I didn’t get, but that it was okay since I got so many great things.
“I’ll never forget, she just took a sip of her coffee and smiled and looked at me and said, ‘Maybe you should look out the window’.”
“No way,” Holly said.
“Yup. I glanced out the window and sure enough, that bike was sitting in the driveway with a big red bow on it. I exploded I was so happy. I ran outside in my pajamas and jumped onto it and took off down the cul-de-sac. Mom stood on the porch and laughed, sipping her coffee and watching me for a little bit before calling me back in. When I got there, she had tears in her eyes and I asked her why and she just shook her head saying she was happy.
“Come to find out years later, she had noticed me salivating over that bike in the summer and saved for months to buy it for me. She got it the weekend before Christmas and it was the last one left. She had been so nervous she would miss it, she said she cried herself to sleep a couple nights. She just wanted to give me a good Christmas, and boy, she nailed it.”
“That’s an amazing story,” Holly said. “Your mom is a wonderful woman.”
“She is,” I said, a pang of sadness gripping my heart. It was lessened this time because of Holly’s head resting above it, though. Just a little bit less sharp. “She truly is.”
“I don’t want to miss Christmas morning,” Holly said after a few seconds. Her voice was low and sad and my heart broke for her. If I thought I could make it without us both dying of exposure I would have offered to carry her on my back all the way there right then. But that would be crazy. Wouldn’t it? “Not for that little boy. He’s counting on us.”
“I know,” I said, pulling her tight and glancing at my phone. Eleven-forty. “I know. We won’t, though. We are not going to miss Christmas morning. I promise.”
