Ronald Malfi - Snow

“Well,” she said, and that was all she said. He knew she was disappointed for their son, but she was not talented enough—or she didn’t care enough?—to mask the subtle relief in her voice. This had promised to be a difficult weekend for the two of them.

“Listen,” he said, running a hand through his hair. The old stress was coming back to him in nauseating waves. “I’m renting a car and driving up. It’ll take most of the night but I’ll be there for Christmas morning.”

“Is that a good idea? The weather’s terrible, Todd.”

What do you care? he almost said, catching himself at the last minute.

“Unless I want to spend Christmas stranded in O’Hare, it’s the only option. And I want to see Justin.”

“Well,” she said, “he wants to see you, too.”

“Is he there? Can I talk to him?”

“He’s watching a Christmas special on television.”

“Can’t you put him on, Bree?”

He heard her expel a rasp of exasperated air. “Hold on,” she said, and set the phone down. Distantly, over the line, he could hear Brianna calling Justin’s name, followed by the blare of the television set in the background. Brianna came back on the line. “He’s coming.”

“Thanks, Bree.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Todd.”

There it is, he thought. Same old Bree, blaming me for the collapse of the world. As if this snowstorm was my own goddamn fault. Fuck you, Brianna.

But that wasn’t exactly fair, either. He’d fucked up enough in their marriage to warrant such accommodation.

“Daddy!” Justin’s smallish voice came over the line, filled with a jouncing glee that shot like an arrow straight into Todd’s heart. He felt his knees grow weak.

“Hey, sport.”

“It’s snowing!”

“It’s snowing here, too. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Can we build a snowman when you come?”

“We can build a whole army of them.” His voice trembled.

“Are you on the airplane?”

“Not yet, buddy.”

“Mommy took me to the mall and we bought you a Christmas present.”

“Is that right?”

“But I’m not supposed to tell you what it is. Mommy said it would ruin the surprise.”

“Well,” he said, “I guess she’s right.”

“When are you coming, Daddy?”

He closed his eyes and swiped a set of fingers over the lids. “I’ll be there in the morning, sport. When you wake up.”

“Good,” said his son, “because I miss you.”

“Miss you, too, Justin. And I love you.”

“Love you, Dad!”

“Put your mom back on.”

“Bye!”

Brianna came back on the line. “He’s been talking about this for weeks, you know. We shouldn’t have told him beforehand. You should have just surprised him when you got here. This way—”

He cut her off, knowing all too well where she was going. “I won’t disappoint him, Brianna. I’ll be there. I promise.”

Again: that exasperated sigh. “I’ve told you a million times, Todd,” she said. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” And before he could respond, she said, “Be careful driving. Good-bye.” Then she hung up.

He glanced down at his cell phone, and at the flashing CALL ENDED on the screen. The hand holding the cell phone was shaking.

“Next,” said the attendant behind the rental car counter. Kate had taken her paperwork and her small carry-on bag and slid down the length of the counter.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m gonna need something that can get me to Des Moines.”

The attendant—a dark-skinned teenager whose face was peppered in a barrage of pimples—sucked his lower lip. When he spoke, he did so in an indistinct Middle Eastern accent. “Unfortunately, sir, the only thing we have left are economy-size vehicles, none of which—”

“No four-wheel drives? Jeeps? Anything like that?”

“So sorry, sir. I just gave away our last four-wheel-drive vehicle. And I must advise you, sir, that to drive to Iowa in this weather—”

“What about chains? Do you guys put chains on the tires?”

“We do not have these chains, sir. The weather, you see, is very bad right now and we’re—”

“I don’t need a lecture,” he said, the strains of his son’s voice still resonating in his head. “I need a car.”

“As I’ve said, sir—”

“Todd.” It was Kate Jansen, holding up her folded rental agreement. “You’ll never make it driving a PT Cruiser. Come with me.”

Behind the counter, the attendant’s eyes looked as large as softballs. He thinks I’m going to hit him, Todd thought…and felt an odd sense of satisfaction at that.

“Thanks, anyway,” he said to the attendant.

“Four-wheel-drive Cherokee,” she said as he approached, handing him the rental agreement. “We’re both headed in the same direction and, to be honest, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of traveling by myself in this weather. You’d be doing me a favor. I drive like Stevie Wonder.”

“All right, but I insist on paying for half.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to emasculate you.”

“Then it’s a deal.” He looked down the length of the hallway that led back toward the gates and the baggage claim corrals, toward the shops and fast-food joints lining the walk. “Listen, I’m going to grab some supplies—bottled water, snacks, a flashlight—then I’ll meet you back here.”

“Jesus,” she said. “Do you think we’ll need that stuff?”

“No, I don’t. But it couldn’t hurt to have it with us just in case. Is there anything you needed?”

“Books.”

“Books?”

“Hey,” she said, “if there’s a chance we might get stranded for a few days in the middle of nowhere, I gotta do something to pass the time.”

“Fair enough.” He handed the rental agreement back to her. “And thanks. You saved my butt.”

“Consider it repayment for the drink.”

He stopped in a Hudson News boutique and loaded up on bottled water, candy bars and potato chips, a road map, a flashlight and batteries, aspirin, two pairs of gloves, and two knit scarves with the Chicago Bears logo embroidered on them. He grabbed a couple of paperbacks for Kate, then, realizing his luggage—along with his gifts for Justin—wasn’t going to make the journey with him, he selected the largest stuffed bear he could find, which was roughly the size of a small child. Lastly, he purchased a canvas duffel bag to carry all the items and tucked the bear under one arm. The woman behind the counter looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

Back at the rental car counter, Kate stood holding two steaming cups of Starbucks coffee.

“Nice bear.”

“You’re a savior,” he said, taking a long swallow of the coffee. It burned his throat but he didn’t care.

“This is Fred and Nan Wilkinson,” Kate said, stepping aside to reveal a silver-haired couple in their late sixties standing behind her, overburdened in heavy coats and matching carry-on bags. The man looked to be in decent shape and the woman still carried with her the vestige of her youth. They both looked more than pleased at the introduction.

Todd nodded at them. “Hi.”

“They’re coming with us,” Kate said.

CHAPTER THREE

The Cherokee was roomy enough for all four of them and their carry-on bags, which they tossed into the spacious back section. Todd started out driving, though Fred Wilkinson offered to split the trip with him, and Kate Jansen sat in the passenger seat to work the heater and the radio (and, she added with a sly wink, to keep Todd company so he wouldn’t fall asleep and run them all off the road).

The Wilkinsons were a pleasant enough couple. Fred was a veterinarian who owned his own practice in Atlanta. Well-groomed and well-spoken, he was the type of man Todd would have hoped his own father might have been, instead of the pathetic societal drain that he was. Fred Wilkinson’s wife, Nan, was a grade-school teacher who also taught aerobics on the weekends. She possessed the lean, sinewy body of a dancer and, despite her close-cropped silvery hair, looked much younger than her sixty-odd years. They were on their way to spend Christmas with their daughter Rebecca just outside Des Moines—a tradition they’d maintained, according to Nan, for many years. “She’s married to a cardiologist,” Nan said, “and they’ve been hinting at a special Christmas gift this year. Fred and I think they’re planning to announce a forthcoming addition to the family.” Todd surveyed them both as they climbed into the backseat of the Cherokee, silently thankful that they both seemed to be in exceptional health for their age. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to suffer a heart attack during the excursion to Des Moines.