Page 26 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“Still not helping,” I say, because I know my friend has a penchant for sucking on a pair of balls.
“Never mind,” Annie says, straightening and wiping at her eyes with her gloves. “What do you want to do now?”
I peer out across the snow-covered landscape and then look back at my friend.
“There is one thing,” I say, “but maybe…” I trail off.
“What is it, Hollie?” she asks.
“This is only my second time in snow, right?” Annie nods. “And the first time, it was slushy and wet and no good. Which means I’ve never …”
“You’ve never?” Annie asks.
“Built a snowman.”
Annie jumps back in horror. “Never?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Never,” I say. “I’m a snowman virgin.”
“Oh my goodness,” Annie says, putting her hands on her hips, “that is something we must address even more urgently than the sex drought.”
I nod my head enthusiastically.
“Hollie do you …” she breaks into song, “wanna build a snowman?”
I nod even more enthusiastically, and Annie taps her chin. “Let me think – where would be the best place to build it? I think back at the house. Then we’ve got access to hats and scarves and all the other paraphernalia we need. Holy shit, Hollie, we are going to make the best damn snowman in the history of the earth!”
I smile back at her. “Yes, please.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re rolling big boulders of snow around the front yard. The snow catches on the ball and it increases in size with every roll until we have a body that reaches up to my middle and a head that makes the snowman about my height.
“Not bad,” Annie says, standing back and brushing snow off her gloves. “Now we just need to decorate him.”
“And name him,” I say.
“Name comes after we’ve finished decorating him,” Annie explains. “I’ve got to understand what his personality is like first.”
I nod in agreement.
“Stay here,” she says, and runs up into the house.
While I’m waiting, I pat down the Snowman’s body and head, smoothing and perfecting the snow. Annie returns with a basket full of different things – there’s a cowboy hat, a scarf, another pair of mittens, a carrot, and two walnuts.
She hands those straight to me, and I lift them up, one in each hand.
“See what I mean?” I say. “There really isn’t very much difference.”
Annie raises an eyebrow. “I think the man drought has lasted so long, Hollie Bright,” she tells me, “that you’ve forgotten what certain things look like.”
I shake my head. “Certain images cannot be erased from my memory,” I say. “I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to.”
“Ew,” Annie gags. “Then you’ve definitely been dating the wrong men.”
“So, what are we using these for? The eyes?”
Annie grins manically, snatches the walnuts from my hands, and positions them fairly centrally in the body of the snowman. Then she grabs the carrot from the basket and adds it too.
I can’t help bursting out laughing. “I didn’t know we were building an X-rated snowman.”
