Page 74 of Falling Like Snow

The door opening wakes me at 2:13 p.m.

Asher sits on the bed and hands me a Pop-Tart. “You guys literally have nothing healthy in this house.”

“Shush. This is strawberry, which makes it a fruit,” I say, taking it from him.

“You know I’m only letting that slide because today sucks.”

“Perfect.” I tear open the silver wrapper and bite into the sugary toaster pastry.

“I’m going to drive you to the cemetery,” he says. I freeze mid-bite. “Your mom’s not home, and you shouldn’t go alone.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t, but I don’t mind,” he says. “You’re my best friend. Let me be here.”

I nod once. “Okay.”

Asher stands. “I’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

After eating as much as I can stomach, I throw on a hoodie and fleece leggings and join Asher downstairs. He already has the car heated, so we lock the door behind us and drive to the cemetery with nothing but the sound of Tigers Jaw playing softly through the speakers.

No amount of sunshine can make a graveyard anything but bleak. In fact, I find it insulting that the sun would shine today. It’s a terrible day, and it should be reserved for gray clouds and gusty winds and a persistent drizzle. Instead there are freaking birds chirping in trees, like it isn’t still winter and my dad isn’t dead.

Asher sits in the car while I climb the hill to where Dad’s grave sits. The stone shines as if someone polished it, even though Mom and I rarely visit. I set the flowers I brought next to a decaying bouquet—likely from the last time I was here—and drop to my knees, not caring how wet or filthy or cold I get. Just seeing his name engraved into the stone makes me clutch my aching chest.

“Hi, Dad,” I say quietly, my voice breaking.

Each time I come here, I feel ridiculous talking to a giant rock. I don’t feel Dad’s presence. I don’t believe he can hear me. But it’s all I have of him. So I do it anyway.

“I, um… I met a boy,” I say, never knowing how to begin these little chats. “I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere, but he seems pretty okay. Mom thinks you’d like that he plays hockey.” A lone tear lands in the brown grass in front of the grave. “He’s fun. Very nice to look at. And to be honest, it feels good to be liked.” I imagine his response and roll my eyes like he’s here. “I know, I know, my worth isn’t dependent on boys liking me and all that jazz, but still, it’s pretty awesome. I’m going on my first sort-of date this week—with him—and I’m freaking out a little.”

I trail my finger over Dad’s name and the words below it: Doting husband, loving father, remarkable person.

I glance behind me to make sure no one’s around. “I really, really wish you were here so I could talk to you about stuff. Like the super-out-of-left-field feelings I’ve been having about Asher lately. And you know I can’t bring that up to Mom because she’d be so dramatic and make it into this big thing it’s definitely not. I mean, I don’t know what it is, but it’s not that.” My chin quivers. “You always knew exactly what to say.” I rest my forehead against the stone as sobs rack my body. “I don’t know how to navigate life without you.”

A minute later, I sit up and let out a shaky breath. “Sometimes I think Mom wants me to stay here forever,” I say, swiping pointlessly at my endless tears. “I don’t know how to tell her I want to leave for college—maybe even go to New York City with Ellis. Maybe pursue theater professionally. I don’t want to leave her completely alone, and I don’t want to upset her by telling her I don’t want to one day be the face of Bramble Falls. I wish I could talk to you about it. Then maybe you could talk to her about it. Be the buffer the second parent is supposed to be, you know? Instead I’m stuck looking like an idiot talking to a fancy rock. Anyway, if you are here, chilling in a graveyard for eternity, cross your fingers for me this Friday.” I stand and dry my eyes with my sleeve. “I love you, and I miss you so much.” I kiss the pads of my fingers and press them to the cold, lifeless stone. “Bye, Dad.”

With a throbbing pain deep in my chest, I hike back to Asher’s car feeling hollow.

“I don’t think we were considering what the date was when we made plans for tonight,” he says quietly. “We’ll do the finals-cramming party tomorrow.”

He threads his fingers through mine and holds my hand as we drive silently back to my house.

Chapter Twenty

Snow begins falling early the next morning. On our way to study at my house after school, the plow trucks are struggling to keep up. And by the time my phone rings a few hours later, they seem to have given up altogether, with every inch of the outdoors colored a radiant white and endless puffy flakes floating gracefully from the sky.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, answering my phone. “How’s it going at the inn?”

“It’s good. Sarah’s grateful for the help. Her hair might not turn gray from stress, after all,” she says. “But hey, has anyone left there yet?”

“No, we’re still studying. Why?”

“The roads look awful, and this snow isn’t supposed to let up until two a.m. We were talking over here, and we think it’d be best if you all spend the night there. We’ll just sleep at the inn. I’m sure the roads will be clear by the time we wake up tomorrow.”

“Wait… you’re all spending the night there, and you want all of us to spend the night here?” I ask, unable to hide the disbelief in my voice. Ellis, Cooper, Jake, Chloe, and Slug all go silent from their senior study table and look at me. I mouth, I know, right?

“Well, yeah. I think we’d all rather you be safe at our house than potentially dying in a car accident.”