Paul Curtin - Gray Snow

Sean was going to kill Andrew.

He was going to kill Andrew.

“Stop!” he remembered yelling, though he couldn’t be sure if he had made any sound.

Despite feeling like he was enclosed in a shrinking cocoon, he willed himself to move. His sister screamed something indecipherable behind him. Sean was at the top of the stairs yelling something.

Michael got himself upright, wobbling like he was drunk. His limbs felt encumbered, and he kept seeing blazes of fire in the corners of his vision. Andrew raised his hands. Molly ran up to her father and grabbed onto his shoulder. He shrugged her off, and she slipped a step backward, balancing herself on the railing. His hand was now on his weapon. Still in the holster, but there.

Molly rushed to her dad again, crying out something at him. Michael saw it before it even happened, and the heightened slow motion made it more agonizing. Molly lunged behind Sean to grab onto his arms, and he threw his shoulder back harder this time.

And Molly tumbled.

Her hand reached out for the railing again but couldn’t get a grip. Her feet lost traction, and she rolled. Michael watched her head slam against the wall with a hard whack, and her body topple end over end. Near the midway point, her head landed against one step and her neck snapped to the side—way too far to the side—and that was when her voice cut out, like a needle being lifted off a vinyl record, and her limbs flopped around loosely the rest of the way. She came to a stop soon after that.

Michael raised his hands to his head, unable to move. Andrew’s face wrenched in pain. He screamed and ran around Sean, throwing himself down the stairs toward Molly, pressing his face to her chest, pulling her into a lifeless hug as her arms hung limply against the ground. He languished, petting her hair, calling out that he loved her. Sean had turned on the top step, looking down at his palms, his mouth hanging open. He reached out as if to brace himself against something, anything, but couldn’t find rest.

Eventually, Michael’s hearing nearly phased out. He collapsed backward, everything a blur, reality now just a distant concept. Elise passed him and ran toward Molly. Andrew pounded his fist against one step as he looked up at Elise, tears in his eyes, horror and shock and grief on his face. Michael leaned his head against the wall and heard the pounding noise continue like a heartbeat until it gradually ceased.

THEY BURIED MOLLY in the woods behind the backyard in a cleared space where the sun’s rays used to break through the trees and the dust danced in them like a fireworks display. There was no sunshine that day, nor would there be for the rest of days—just low hanging clouds that pressed the warmth out of their bodies.

Everyone was bundled up so most of their skin was covered. The shades of color in their coats and pants were muted by the surroundings. Sean insisted on doing the digging. The cold sank into Andrew’s clothes, Andrew watching the others shaking, their tears freezing into the cloth around their faces. He winced each time Sean brought the shovel into the hard ground.

Molly’s body lay next to the forming hole, half submerged in the ashen snow. Her skin was a pale white and blue, drained of her vibrancy. She wore a printed floral dress and long-brimmed hat—the same dress she had on when he first saw her, Molly walking into his trigonometry class, clutching her bag in front of herself, not raising her eyes to anyone as she searched for a seat, Andrew thinking then, This is the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with. Just like that. A girl so delicate and shy and beautiful couldn’t be wrong. So he motioned to her that there was a free seat next to him and introduced himself. When he heard her voice for the first time, his heart melted to a puddle. And continued melting as the days passed. He never knew such a thoughtful and caring and smart person in his entire life. And he resolved, right there, that he would do everything he could to not screw it up with her.

Now, in the same dress, she looked out of place. Like she shouldn’t be there, because she shouldn’t. She should be alive. Here with him.

The hole Sean dug steamed like an ethereal presence was emerging. When it was ready, Sean slammed the shovel into the loosened pile. His eyes appeared distant and deep, like tears were swimming across the surface. He walked over to Molly and knelt at her head and put his arms under her shoulders and legs. He lifted her from the ground and placed her into the hole. When her body came to rest, Sean laced her fingers over her chest. She almost looked at peace.

There were no flowers to toss into her grave, nothing green and alive and lovely to bring out her beauty. There was no holy water to bless her with, and no prayer Andrew could say that would mean anything. The sniffles and mourning sounded into the trees and disappeared into the wind. Sean knelt for a long time next to the grave. It was cruel for a man to need to bury any of his children, let alone two. It was cruel too for another man to put the love of his life to rest at a mere sixteen years of age on the same day as his child in her womb.

He winced again thinking about it. He had spent the last two days in a perpetual haze, walking around in shock, remembering when Molly told him the news. She was snuggling with him on the bed, then sitting up and looking down at him. “I’m pregnant.” She was so scared, Andrew seeing the terror in her eyes, the fear of the unknown. But Andrew smiled and hugged her and told her he was happy. Because despite all the trouble with this news, the thought of this child in this cold world, Molly giving birth with no doctor—despite all of it—Andrew looked into Molly’s eyes and knew it would be all right. So, he kissed her stomach and listened for any signs of life in there, Molly smiling down at him while he did it, Andrew thinking, Wow, my child’s growing inside there right now. His child! The excitement it brought him, the anticipation, the desire to do better than his parents, to do better with this amazing woman he loved so much. All the best things of life he had held right there in his chest—the feelings of excitement and joy and expectation. To have them ripped out in so cruel a manner. Gone. Like it had never happened.

There was nowhere to take that pain. It just existed, with nothing that could ease it. Immeasurable loss. Everything taken from him in a matter of seconds. Life wasn’t supposed to end like this, so suddenly and so rashly. For no reason.

Sean pulled his scarf down and planted a kiss on Molly’s forehead before rising. The group stared into the grave. Elise pulled her son closer. Sean said, “I think this would be the time to say any last words.”

Nothing for a minute, everyone’s heads hanging low. Elise sobbed uncontrollably.

“Molly’s the lucky one here,” Kelly said. “I sometimes think about the end. How it must feel like being at peace. Finally at peace. With no more death and no more hurt. Where whatever anyone has done to you or what you’ve done is nothing more than some awful, distant memory.” She smiled under the scarf wrapped around her face. “I think wherever Molly is right now, she’s happy.”

Nobody said anything for a while.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Molly was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was like sunshine. She was—I just wish I could have a little more time with her. Just a little. I mean—I wish I could have a lifetime with her. I wish I could have seen my son,” he said, losing his composure. “We always imagined it was a boy. I don’t know why. Just did. We were going to name him Lincoln. Lincoln Sean.”