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When I’m done being washed, he settles me back so I can soak in the tub for a few minutes. “Are you leaving?” I ask.
“I’m going to sit for a bit to make sure you don’t accidentally slip under. I’ll dry you off in a few minutes and take you back to bed. I got some sweatpants and a t-shirt out for you. Let me know if you get cold, and I’ll pull you out early.”
I doze off again, at peace in the warm tub and the knowledge that Wilder is only a foot away from me. If I need him, I only have to hold my hand out. He’s there.
For now, at least.
February 1- Wilder
“Psst. Do you want to go outside?” I whisper, hovering over her as she sleeps on the couch. Savannah playfully pushes me away and grumbles something I can’t understand. “It’s snowing. It’s snowed a lot, but I think it’s letting up. Let’s go for a walk.”
“Only you and your love for all things nature would want to go for a walk in that bullshit,” she huffs, sitting up and pulling her messy bun until her long hair flows around her shoulders.
“I want to go for a walk with you. Come on, Savannah,” I beg, sticking my lower lip out like a child. “We have two weeks left. Indulge me.”
I can hear the sadness in my voice, and I hate myself. I shouldn’t be sad. What’s the saying that says don’t regret the sadness of a lost relationship? Be happy that it happened? Something like that. Then again, I always get those relationship quotes wrong.
My body itches for outside when I lie in bed at night. Some people think I’m crazy for liking the feel of sleeping on the ground with the sounds of nature around me, but I miss it. I toss and turn in Savannah’s bed for reasons I don’t understand. I’ve never felt so uneasy at the end of a cuff. Even if I’ll miss her, my body must know I want out. That has to be why I can’t sleep.
I grab her hand and pull her to her feet, wrapping the scarf I already grabbed from the closet around her neck. “Let’s make snow angels.”
She laughs but lets me push her toward the door and her winter coat that’s hanging from her coat hook. “Are we five?”
“Have we met? You know I have the maturity of a five-year-old. Come on. You finally feel better. You need fresh air.” I look down at her feet and walk over to her shoe cubby. “You also need snow boots.”
She sighs and lets me help her with her coat, buttoning it in silence as I throw on my own coat, hat, and scarf. She steps into her mid-shin, black boots as I tie my waterproof boots.
Once we’re both ready, I open the door, and we tromp silently through the apartment building until I swing open the main door like I’m a SWAT team member on a mission, the door bouncing against the side of the building in my excitement. As soon as the cold air hits my face, I lift my eyes to the sky and inhale the cool air like I’ve been at the bottom of a pool for an hour.
Fresh air. Nature. Birds chirp from the trees, the worst of the snowstorm over. Fat flakes of snow still drop from the sky, but they’re slow and lazy. I look down at my boots and notice they’re almost covered. “About six inches. Nice.”
“Not nice, Wilder. I have to work tomorrow. Think they’ll have the roads clear?”
I turn and pull her to me. She stumbles in the snow, and I wrap my arms around her waist before she falls. “Only you would think of something like that and not want to be snowed in with a sex god.”
She turns her face up to mine, and I wipe the wet drops of melted snow off her skin. I lean down to lightly kiss her, and even the birds go silent. Are they watching from their nests and entertained by the lovers in front of a basic apartment building?
Lovers that won’t be lovers in another two weeks.
I pull away at the thought and smile. “Let’s make those snow angels.”
She looks around, confused. “Where? Can you show me how?”
I scowl. “Have you never made a snow angel?”
“I didn’t get out much as a kid. If a big snow came, I sat inside reading a book and watched Heather get drunk off Hot Toddies.”
I hold up a hand. “Do not tell me you’ve never even made a snowman, Savannah Smart.”
She looks at me, not smiling. “I, Savannah Smart, have never made a snowman.”
I place my hands on my hips and sigh, looking around the snow and kicking it a bit. Wet snow. Perfect for snowman building. “Well, thank fuck you found me in October and we’re spending the winter together. I can’t let you age into a crotchety woman without making a snowman and at least one snow angel. You needed me in your life for these months.”
She looks around the snow at her feet in confusion and doesn’t respond to my suggestion that she needs me to make her more adventurous. She does nothing to acknowledge how different and more open she is now. “What do we do first?”
Over the next half hour, I teach Savannah the art of snowballs that get rolled into bigger snowballs, the first being the base of the snowman body. Once we have that in place, we make the middle section, laughing as she pushes the ball over the snow. I pat it into shape before lifting it on top of the base. “We need a small ball for the head.”
Savannah stares at me a second and then sputters. She doubles over and holds her stomach. “What’s so funny?” I smile.
