Kelan stood with his father on a wintry mountain. Neither discussed the hows and whys of their journey, or the fate of the magician who had dispatched them. By now, their existence in this time and place seemed as natural as smoke-puffing fish. Below them, perhaps a mile so, the ubiquitous river wound this way and that through snowy valleys as far as their eyes could take them. Large snowflakes drifted down, tempting their palettes. Kelan let one fall on his tongue. It tasted like strawberry. He stuck his tongue out again, this time savoring the subtle flavor of banana. His father joined him.
“I’m not cold,” Kelan said, realizing they were still wearing their summer clothes. “Even the snow isn’t cold.”
“Not a bit.”
“Why doesn’t it melt?”
His father shrugged.
“This is way cool.”
They made their way down to a level clearing. The sky was bright and blue.
“Can we make it here, Dad?”
The man scooped a handful of the white stuff and nodded. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen better snow. Come on.”
They set about building the base of their snowman, starting with a snowball and rolling it into a huge globe that stood halfway up Kelan’s chest. He started on the middle ball, only to stop a few minutes later with a yawn as wide as his face.
“Take a break, Soldier,” his father said, still sculpting the bottom. “You’ve had quite the trip today.”
Kelan agreed. He found a tree to his liking, its thriving roots bulging above the ground. They were long and wide, and he was able to place his legs flat as he made himself comfortable. “I’m having a great time, Dad.”
“Me too.”
“… I was thinking about Eric.”
“Oh?”
“Maybe it would have been fun to have him here after all. You know, to give us a hand.”
“Sounds to me like somebody misses him.”
“Kinda.”
“Maybe you were a little rough with him.”
Kelan yawned. “He shouldn’t have done what he did.”
“No. But two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“Dad?”
“Hmmmm?”
“Do you miss him, too?”
“Of course I do.”
“You miss Mom?”
The man paused without a word, then picked up where Kelan had left off, rolling the midsection of the snowman. Kelan studied his hands as they worked the snow—those perfectly smooth hands—and for a harrowing moment found himself swallowed by doubt. He reserved to let this uncertainty pass, reminding himself of what Oscar had told him: They were as real as he wanted them to be.
“Dad?”
“Sure I miss her, Soldier. Sure I do.”
Kelan sat up. “What do you miss most about her?”
Again, some hesitation. “I miss her smile. I miss her pasta, too. But you know what I miss most? Making her breakfast in bed.”
“How come?”
“Just because. Someday you’ll understand.”
“Do you miss the real world, Dad?” His father kept on with the work. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are you a spirit?”
The man paused. “You getting hungry, Soldier?”
“I’m okay.” Kelan looked about. “There’s nothing around here anyway.” He swallowed a handful of snow.
“Strawberry?” the man asked.
“Peach. How come it always tastes different?”
“It just does.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Dad.”
“Which one?”
“Are you a spirit? A ghost, maybe? Or just a dream?”
The man in the Twins jersey turned to him with a smile. “I’m your father, son.”
“You look like him. But you don’t have hands like him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You used to have really rough hands. From the mine.”
The man examined them. “I haven’t been at the mine for a long time, Kelan. They got soft, I guess.”
“Oh.”
“You think I’m a ghost? I thought you believed.”
“I do,” Kelan said. “I guess I just look around at all these things I see and … never mind.”
“It’s pretty incredible here, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I wish I could take you back with me.”
The man smiled. “That would be great, wouldn’t it?”
“Do you mind if I rest a bit longer?”
“No problem, kiddo. But I need you to help me finish the head, okay?”
“Okay.”
Kelan leaned back against the tree. He watched his father for a while, and let his mind drift as he followed the endless flakes floating down from the sky. He yawned.
“All right, Soldier,” his father said just minutes later. He was packing a ball that would become the head. “We’ve got a snowman to—”
But Kelan had fallen fast asleep, and in the next moment, with an empty stare as empty as his heart, the man turned to dust in the wind … and slipped into the nothingness of dreams.