Sophia
It snowed!
Henry sent me this mysterious text on Sunday around lunchtime. It was probably when he woke up.
Did I subscribe to weather updates? I wrote back. I looked out my window, and there had been a big dump of sparkling new snow.
Henry called me. “Hey Soph, you busy today?”
“Not really. What did you have in mind?” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. I had a to-do list that included laundry, grocery shopping, and organizing my expense receipts. But Henry was my Pied Piper, and the to-do list sailed out the window.
“Let’s go play in the snow,” he said.
“Ugh, you remember that I’m not really an athlete, right?”
“You used to be a good runner,” he replied.
“That was tag back in elementary school.”
“Soph, we’re going to get exercise. That’s what you wanted me to do, right?”
“I already get exercise at the gym,” I said.
“Three times a week on a hamster wheel is not really exercise,” he replied.
“It’s called an elliptical,” I huffed, but I was already in my bedroom looking for the right outfit. “Is two o’clock okay?”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll have time to shower.”
An image of Henry in the shower with water coursing down his naked body short-circuited my brain. “Did you want to come afterwards?”
“Excuse me?” he said.
“Come over! Come over afterwards. It’s my usual Sunday dinner at home.” Good thing we weren’t on FaceTime because I was blushing so hard.
“Sure. Sounds good. See you soon, Soph.”
I parked my car in front of my old home and popped inside to leave my purse and explain what was going on. Otherwise my mother and grandmother would spend the afternoon speculating on where I was.
“Can Henry come to dinner?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. Just now you sounded exactly as you did as a little girl.” My mother turned to her mother. “Ne?”
They both nodded and smiled.
“You seem to be seeing a lot of Henry,” my mother remarked. She didn’t sound quite approving. This wasn’t anything against Henry, but because my mother was still on Team Elliott. I hadn’t heard a peep from Elliott, and that was the way I liked it.
“We’re just friends.” It was true of course, because zero was happening between us. Being with Henry was so much fun, but I still got the sense that his life here was temporary. He hadn’t committed to anything that couldn’t be easily undone.
I went next door and knocked. His mother opened the door.
“Sophia! It’s so nice to see you,” she said. Henry’s mother was a lovely woman. My mother was very strict, and when I was little, I wished she was more like Valerie MacDonald. Henry’s mother was so relaxed and positive. And she baked the best cookies.
She called for Henry and then offered me a snack.
“That’s so nice, but I just had lunch,” I said. “How are your grandchildren?”
She showed me the latest pictures on one of those digital photo frames. Henry’s sisters were quite a bit older than him, and they’d been married and settled for years.
Being back in Henry’s house reminded me of how we’d grown apart. Partly it was that natural division of the sexes where girls only hung out with girls. If you did things with a boy, everyone teased you about your boyfriend. Henry did lots of sports, so he always had tons of buddies hanging around. But until we were 13 or 14, he’d always made time for me too. I’d been slower to mature and slower to catch the signals that Henry was moving on. One Saturday afternoon, I’d bounced up the steps and knocked on his front door. When Henry answered the door, he’d blushed and muttered some excuse about being busy. Before he could close the door, I heard a girl’s voice call out. “Who is that, Henry?” Lisa Seguin had appeared behind him and given me a cold stare. In her tight jeans and butterfly-clipped hair, she looked a million years older than me. No walk of shame could rival the 60 seconds it took me to get home—I’d been so clueless. Although he had been friendly afterwards, I’d never knocked on his door again. Until today.
Henry appeared, dressed in a fitted turtleneck that outlined his slim torso. Despite all my gym time, Henry appeared to be in better shape.
“Hey, Soph. You ready to go?”
“Yes. Wherever it is we’re going,” I said.
He shook his head. “No faith. It’ll be great. Bye, Mom.”
“Have fun, you two,” she said. She hadn’t stopped beaming the whole time I was there.
Our next stop was his garage, where Henry pulled out two pairs of snowshoes. Phew, walking was a sport I had mastered.
He handed me a pair of snowshoes and led the way down the driveway.
“Are we taking my car?” I asked.
“No, we’re walking there,” Henry said. He took long strides, and I had to walk double time to keep up.
“Is it far?”
Henry turned around. He had a big grin on his face. “Soph, exercise can also be us walking to a trail where we’re going to explore nature and enjoy fresh air.”
“I like things to have a purpose,” I grumbled, but I could see how much Henry enjoyed being outside. And it was a sunny day.
It was a throwback to walk down our street. I came home weekly, but I usually breezed past the neighbours in my car. Each house we passed had a different memory: friends, babysitting jobs, a crabby neighbour, the best Hallowe’en treats.
“Doesn’t this take you back?” I asked.
Henry cocked his head. “Being home again is one strange trip. I feel like I’ve fallen into a time travel machine.”
He probably walked the neighbourhood a lot already. He’d told me he stretched a lot to stay limber for hockey, but he certainly wasn’t the gym type. Or maybe he couldn’t afford a gym. I worried about Henry’s finances more than he seemed to.
The nature trail was only a ten-minute walk from our houses, embarrassingly close. I must have known it was here, but I hadn’t been for years.
We strapped on the snowshoes.
“There might not be enough snow yet, but it will still be good,” Henry said, as we set off.
“This may be the happiest I’ve seen you,” I remarked.
“Really?” Henry contemplated my observation. “I’m not sure if it’s because we’re out here on a beautiful day, or...”
I prompted him, “Or because I was right, and now that you’re beginning to have a well-rounded life, you’re enjoying things more.”
Henry laughed. Now I was really convinced that he was getting better. He was much more like his relaxed self.
“You’re so modest,” he said.
Funnily enough, I was modest in my everyday life, but with Henry, I said whatever I wanted. Since we argued and made up, I could talk frankly to him. Well, about everything except my growing feelings for him.
“Look, rabbit tracks,” I pointed out a series of divots in the snow. I searched the snowy fields and scrubby forest, but there was no fuzzy bunny lurking. “I wish we could see him.”
Henry shook his head. “You watched too much anime as a kid. All animals are adorable to you.”
“What animal wouldn’t be adorable?” I asked.
“A black bear crashing your campsite in the middle of the night,” he answered.
“Oh my gosh, did that happen to you?”
“Yeah. It was scary. Happened up near Sudbury. We took off, but eventually we had to come back. We thought we’d bear-proofed the site, but it turned out that somebody—named Rod Bell—had been hoarding energy bars in his knapsack.”
“So, nobody got hurt?” I asked.
“Just our pride. And our wallets, since one of the tents got trashed.”
“Is it fun to be out on the road?” I asked.
Henry nodded. “Yeah. You’re like this family who constantly fights and complains, then unites at the key moment and pulls off a great show. I like being part of something bigger.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to spend every night in a new place. My home was my recharging station.
“It’s funny that we’re so different, yet we get along so well,” I said.
“I think we complement each other. We always have,” he answered.
“I’m enjoying this too. Being outside and tromping around in the snow.”
He smiled. “I knew you would. Now I want to hear you say, ‘You were right, Henry. As always.’”
“You’re going to wait a long time before you hear me say that.”
“Oh, I have to admit when you were right, but you don’t have to do the same. Unfair.”
“Okay, you were right,” I huffed, partly out of indignation and partly because Henry’s strides were longer than mine.
He turned back and gave me the smuggest smile in the history of arrogance. “You forgot ‘as always.’”
“Don’t push your luck, MacDonald.”
We trekked along in silence interrupted by the odd bird song. The trail was wide enough for the two of us to snowshoe side-by-side. There were bare trees and evergreens all around us, but sunshine sparkled through the leafless branches. When the sun went low on the horizon, it grew chillier, and Henry suggested we turn back.
I aired my newest complaint. “This morning, Marisa called and cancelled on me. She’s not coming to the stupid reunion, but I still have to go because she signed us up to work the 9:00pm shift at the dance on Saturday night.” Then I looked over at Henry. Was I being completely boring? Last night, I’d gone on and on about CROO. “I’m sorry, you’re probably used to discussing exciting topics like music and creativity, whereas all I do is complain.”
My life had taken a real downturn since Hallowe’en. This losing streak was starting to depress me. And why was I telling Henry—the one person I wished I could impress with how together my life was? Maybe because he had confessed how awful he felt about not being able to write songs. I owed him equal honesty.
“At the risk of sounding patronizing, I enjoy this. For so long, all I’ve heard are the same complaints and gossip about musicians and the music business. It makes me realize that the straight life isn’t so perfect either.”
“You’re joking, right? How could going up on stage and performing to the adulation of the crowd not be a huge deal?”
“It’s just the tip of the iceberg. Sure, I love performing, but I don’t love all the marketing and promotion that goes on behind the scenes. Our label offloaded a lot of work onto us.”
“Can you get a new label?”
He sighed. “Yeah. But the real question is can we get the label we want? We need something bigger, to move us to the next stage. And right now, we’re not particularly attractive.”
But you are particularly attractive, I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut. Whatever my desires might be, Henry needed a friend right now.
He sighed, and I knew he was thinking how much of Shawville’s success was upon his shoulders. I looked at his broad shoulders and sighed too. “It seems so unfair when your music is so good. Labels should be lining up to work with you.”
Henry cocked his head. “Our number one fan speaks. Which is your favourite Shawville album?”
I considered this. Their first album was short, more like an EP. Their second release Autopilot was the one I identified most with—there were several songs on it that reminded me of our childhood experiences, although I’d never confirmed my ideas with Henry. But I also liked the upbeat, almost dance-y mood of their third album, Freedom. That was from the Adrienne Anderson era, so she’d probably influenced him. The fourth one was good too; more experimental though so it had a few misses. Their fifth album had come out over a year ago, and I had seen very little buzz about it.
“To be honest, I love them all, but maybe Silver Nights. The new one,” I finally said.
Henry stopped snowshoeing and squinted at me. “Really? That’s unexpected. Why?”
“I like the philosophical nature of it. The questioning of life and ideas. Most of your earlier songs were about love and loss, but Silver Nights matches my mood now. I’m at this point in my life where I wonder how much I can still do. Life is no longer limitless. And I like the orchestral parts, where you have strings in the background. When the music builds, I can feel something here, inside me.” I put both hands on my sternum.
He blinked at me. Then this huge smile spread across his face. “Wow. Why have I never asked your opinion about Shawville’s music before? It’s the best thing I’ve heard in years. Tell me more.”
Henry was always a good listener, but right now he was hanging on my every word. Feeling like Scheherazade, I continue to spin my musical analysis. “Well, I enjoy the classical references in your lyrics lately. Like Greek mythology and poetry.”
“You heard all that? With all my down time on the road, I read anything I can get my hands on. I found a poetry anthology in one of those free book boxes, and that started me down a whole new path. Blake and Coleridge are two of my favourites. Mythology I’ve always been interested in, but I’d like to learn more about Asian mythology. Do you know much about Japanese myths?”
“Just what I read in my children’s books—the peach boy, the lucky fisherman, and little one-inch. But I’m sure my mother has some books you could borrow.” My mother loved reading and never got rid of any books.
Henry was off—riffing on some other reading he was interested in doing. The enthusiasm and joy bubbled up—this was the old Henry, full of ideas and ambition. Ever since he’d come back, his energy had been so low that he was a shadow of his former self. But today the combination of fresh air, healthy routines, and my music opinions had made Henry happy again. That made me happy too.