Page 53 of The Love Dose
Side by side, we lie on our backs, the sensation strange and delightful as we wave our arms like eagles in flight, both of us laughing like toddlers.
I stand carefully, then help Caroline to her feet. The angels are perfection, the wings wide and deep.
I dig into my coat and pull out my phone. “Smile,” I say, taking a selfie of the two of us with our snow angels in the background. Rather than smile, we both make silly faces.
I put the phone away and see my boot has come untied. I bend down to fix it.
“Send me the photo, please.” she says.
“Will do.”
I stand back up and am instantly met with a snowball in my face.
“Oomph!”
I’m startled and spit out a mouthful of slush. I spot Caroline hiding behind my snow-laden blueberry bush, furiously rearming.
“You have no idea what you just started!” I shout, “I’m the snowball king!”
“Get ready to be dethroned, Doctor Sinclair!” she retorts, pitching two more fast balls at me. One makes contact with the edge of my coat.
I trudge behind a pine tree and get to work, dodging incoming projectiles, most of which miss me. As soon as I’m ready, I race to the side of the house. I crouch behind the bush and with a snowball in each hand, I take aim at the branch above Caroline’s head, heavy with inches of snow. Her head popsup and I throw the snowballs, her brow raised in surprise. She glances upward. “No!”
A pile of snow falls on Caroline’s head, leaving only her nose visible. She shakes like a dog in the rain and for a moment I’m scared I went too far.
She brushes herself off, flakes steadfastly sticking to every inch of her body. And then she laughs.
Body-quaking guffaws. She’s bent over in hysterics.
It’s contagious and I too am caught up in the throes of laughter. I come to her, trying to catch my breath. “You look like Frosty the Snowman,” I manage to say.
She points to my own frozen nose, tears running down her face. “You’re Rudolph’s twin.”
Once our laughing attack dies down, Caroline leans over and begins rolling a ball.
I scoot away.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I concede. Your throne remains intact. But it’s been years since I’ve built a snowman.”
Probably more than forty years. But saying so aloud will only earn me another ball in the face.
Instead, I help her, taking the job seriously. Thirty minutes later, we are assessing our masterpiece. I remove my scarf and put it around the snowman’s neck while Caroline finds a sturdy twig for the nose. She tilts her head, studying our work. “He needs a hat . . . and eyes.”
I trudge inside, grabbing something from the kitchen and then find an old fedora in the front closet—one my father forgot and left behind years ago. I’m pretty sure he’d be happy with how it’s being used.
I set the hat atop the snowman’s head, pull two chocolate kisses from my pocket and use them for the eyes. When I’m done, I put my arm around Caroline.
“I’m glad you spun out on the highway,” she says, a smirk on her face.
“Me too.”
I wouldn’t be here, otherwise, enjoying one of the happiest moments of my adult life.
Along with finding Chacha.
I should tell Caroline about him but something is holding me back. Maybe the fear that she’ll think I’m off my rocker, adopting a child from Tanzania, becoming a father at my age.
One thing I’m sure of, though. I want more of Caroline in my life. A lot more.
