Page 61 of Frost
“Yeah.” I look up, seeing thin, wispy clouds slowly moving across the blue sky.
“Does that… bother you?”
“No. Colton’s a good guy, but I don’t have feelings for him anymore.”
“Is there someone else, then?” Dad asks, and when I look over at him, a deep blush colors his cheeks.
“Mom put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“What?” He looks away. “Of course not.”
I narrow my eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“Fine.” He sighs and moves his green eyes back to me. “She asked if I’d talk to ya. You spend all your time in your office writing, and when you’re not doing that, you hang out with us, which I love, by the way. I love that we see each other a lot. But your mom and I are just concerned, that’s all. You’ve been different for the past few months.”
“Different how?”
“Can’t put my finger on it,” he responds. “But if I had to put it into words, I guess it seems like you’re puttin’ on a mask. Your smiles never quite reach your eyes.” Dad sighs again. “I know it probably doesn’t make much sense, but that’s how it seems to me. It’s like a piece of ya is gone.”
I grab the necklace around my neck. “I don’t feel any different.”
Not exactly true, of course. I haven’t feltrightever since that February morning when I woke confused and overly emotional for seemingly no reason at all.
We sit in silence, listening to the birds chirping in the trees and the sound of the cars driving by on the street beside the park. A family passes by us, two children running in front of a couple holding hands. The man carries a picnic basket.
“I didn’t know people still did that,” I say. “Going on a Sunday picnic.”
Dad chuckles. “We did it plenty of times.”
“Yeah, but that was back before phones took over everything. Now people can’t seem to be without the damn things, constantly staring at their screens instead of what’s right in front of them. It’s nice to see a family spending time together like we used to. We always took family trips and did fun things like that.”
“I’ll never forget when you wandered off in the snowy woods during our Christmas trip. I still have nightmares about that. God, your mom and I were sick with worry.” Dad moves his green eyes to me. “That’s when your stories started. You swore you saw Jack Frost in those woods. Damn near had me convinced for a while by the detail you gave. Then one day you stopped telling it, and when you talked about that day, you started saying you didn’t know how you found your way back.”
“Jack Frost is just a story,” I say, but as the words leave my lips, a deep ache I haven’t felt in over a month burrows in my chest. “He’s not real.”
“You wanna know whatisreal? My hunger.” Dad stands from the bench and stretches his back. “Let’s grab a burger on the way home.”
I push to my feet and laugh as we start to head down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. “A burger kinda defeats the whole purpose of the workout.”
“Eh.” Dad moves his hand in the air. “Life’s too short not to eat what you want. I’ll portion it. Half now and half for dinner.”
I laugh again and look up as a warm breeze picks up around us, ruffling the leaves in the trees lining the path. Our conversation jostled something loose inside me. Words I try to recall. It’s not until later that evening when I’m sitting at my desk that I finally remember them.
“Jack Frost will be nothing more than a fairy tale. For both of us.”
Where have I heard that before?
And why does it make me want to cry?
After writing a chapter, I shower, brush my teeth, then slide into bed. The sheets are cold at first, and I wiggle around a bit before settling. Something about the way the moonlight spills into the room is familiar. Almost like I’m greeting an old friend.
Or saying goodbye to one.
Chapter Fifteen
December
Ten Months Later
