twopapersnowflakes

Author: Liza C.

E-mail address:

liza_cameron@yahoo.c

Title:

Two Paper Snowflakes

"What's wrong with this one?" I might have sighed

when I just said that, because truth be told, I'm not sure

I’m cut out for this activity. My nose is cold, my ears

are cold, and I have to hop up and down to keep my feet

from going numb.

"Too tall." Her tone is decisive; apparently she knows

what she wants. We just can't find it.

"What do you mean, too tall? The last one was too

short, but it was the same size as this one!" Women…

"No, see, that one was fat and this one is skinny."

"What does that have to do with its height?"

"It's all about proportion and perception."

"Is it always this hard to pick a Christmas tree?" I ask

with exasperation.

"Quit complaining, we've only been here twenty

minutes. When my family used to go to pick out a tree,

it could take hours."

"Hours! Why? Why must it take so long? Just pick one,

load it up and go. How about that one?" I point to

what, to my eye, is a fine looking tree, right in front of

us.

And now she's looking at me like I just suggested that

we go find some puppies to kick.

"That's a Scotch pine!"

"So… "

"Josh, we're looking for a fir tree, preferably a Frasier

fir. Try to keep that in mind."

I stop walking. This is just too much. "Now we're

quibbling about the species of the tree… they all look

the same!"

"No, see here." She yanks off her glove, then reaches

for my hand and removes mine as well. The air is cold,

but her hand is warm. I like it when she holds my

hand. But apparently holding my hand wasn't her

objective, because suddenly, I'm fondling a tree. When

did it come to this?

"See how it's soft to the touch?" I nod. It is soft to the

touch. "And notice the strong branches and pleasing

scent."

"Donna, we're surrounded by trees, the pleasing scents

are all mixing together, and have you been

moonlighting as a Christmas tree wholesaler on the

side?"

"No, like I said, picking a tree was a big deal in my

family." She pulls me several feet down another aisle

and guides my hand to another tree. "Now feel this."

"Ouch!" That hurt!

"Feel the difference?" She's giving me a knowing look.

"The damn tree bit me!"

Now she's giggling. "The tree did not bite you, Josh."

"It did! I think I might be bleeding!" She rolls her eyes,

but at the same time raises my injured hand to her lips

and presses a gentle kiss to the pad of my index finger.

Which, of course, is not bleeding, but since my claim

just got her to kiss my hand, don't expect me to feel bad

about the exaggeration.

"All better?"

"Maybe…" Are you kidding me? I think her lips possess

some incredible restorative powers; she might just be

able to cure anything that ails me with a kiss.

She's shaking her head sadly at me, but her eyes are

twinkling. I love it when they twinkle at me. Maybe it's

because of the cold or maybe it's because of her bright

blue hat and scarf, but her eyes seem extra clear and

extra blue tonight. I feel my breath catch in my throat.

She's absolutely adorable standing there in her puffy

white coat and all I want to do at this moment is kiss

her. It's an urge incredibly familiar to me. But then it

hits me, I don't have to deny it anymore. There is no

need to pretend that I don't feel the way I feel, to

suppress the desire to feel her lips under mine.

She's still got my hand by the wrist, but I turn the

tables so that now I have her by the wrist. Gently, I tug

her towards me until we're standing toe to toe… and

nose to nose. We stand that way for several seconds,

our breath co-mingling, until I see her tongue flick out

and then run all the way across her lower lip. That

should be me licking her lower lip! Wasting no more

time, I settle my hands at the waist of her puffy jacket

and rub my nose against hers once, before my mouth

finds hers. The kiss is gentle and sweet… acceptable for

public consumption. Which, actually, isn't that

important, since we're lost in an evergreen maze and no

one can currently see us.

Or at least I don’t think anyone can see us. Donna

groans with what I hope is pleasure, and I am just about

to deepen the kiss, when I hear someone clear their

throat.

Surprisingly, we don't jump apart like teenagers just

caught necking by their parents; we finish the kiss and

then slowly pull away from one another. We both turn

to look in the direction of the noise, and not ten feet

away is a little wood hut. Where did that come from? I

would have sworn we were completely alone out here.

But we're not. A white-haired lady waves at us from a

cut-out in the door of the wood hut.

"Look, hot chocolate!" Donna is now tugging me towards

the booth. As I get closer, I figure out that we are now

in the back corner of the tree lot.

"What is this?" I ask Donna.

But before Donna can hazard a guess, the hut lady, who

upon further inspection seems to be wearing some sort

of Mrs. Claus outfit, answers, "They put a warming hut

back here, so that you don't get too cold to shop."

"Ahhh." I guess that makes sense. What do I know? I

thought going to help Donna get a Christmas tree was

going to be a fifteen minute affair, tops. I didn't realize

that it was such an ordeal that people would need to

take a break for refreshment before finishing.

Donna smiles brightly at the woman. "We'll take two

large hot chocolates."

I reach for my wallet, but Donna stops me with a hand

on my arm. "My treat… for helping me with a tree."

I grin at her. "So, I'm spending hours in the freezing

cold and getting attacked by a rabid tree, for a holiday I

don't even celebrate, and my only payment is a hot

chocolate?"

Donna nods, but corrects me, "A large hot chocolate.

Don't forget I'm springing for the large."

"Sorry, I stand corrected; my only payment for services

rendered is a large hot chocolate."

"Pretty much… except for this." She leans up and

presses her lips softly to my cheek. "Thanks for coming

with me to stand in the cold and get attacked by a tree

for a holiday you don't even celebrate."

I can tell there is a stupid grin on my face. "Anytime."

And I mean it.

There's a little covered area attached to the hut, with

several large heaters and picnic tables. We're the only

ones here right now, so we have our pick of tables, but

instead Donna bypasses them all and leads me to a

wooden bench near a heater that looks out into the tree

lot. Or what we can see of the tree lot through all the,

you know, trees.

We get settled next to one another so that our jeans-

clad thighs are touching. I take a sip of hot chocolate

and feel the warmth spread through my abdomen.

Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I ask, "So,

why do we need to get a tree for your apartment

again? If we're spending Christmas at your parents'

house… and believe, me if you've re-thought that and

want to spend it here just the two of us, I'll, of course,

be disappointed, but-"

She nudges my knee with hers and interrupts, "I

haven't re-thought that."

"Oh, good… because as I said, I'd be very disappointed if

we didn't get to Wisconsin..."

This time she elbows me in the stomach. "We're getting

a tree for my apartment because I love them. And it

puts me in the holiday spirit. I love the way they look

and I love picking one out and decorating it. I love my

ornaments." She takes a deep breath in through her

nose. "And I love the way they smell…"

"They do smell good…" I agree as a memory starts to

form. She keeps talking about how a Christmas tree

isn't just for Christmas, it's for the whole season, but I

don't really hear her…

***

"Josh, are you listening to me?" I bump his shoulder

with mine, and he looks up, startled. "Where were you

just then?"

"Oh… nowhere… just thinking…"

"About what?"

He shakes his head once as if to clear it and stares

straight ahead out into the tree lot. "I can't believe I

forgot this. But we had a tree once..."

"You did?"

"Yeah... it must have been... well, it was… that's right, it

was the year before Joanie..." Josh trails off.

"Oh…" I reach over and lay my glove-clad hand over his,

even as I feel a pang in my chest at the mention of

Joanie's death. Forcing my voice to sound normal for

his sake, I ask, "Why did you have a tree?"

"I remember…" I see him swallow hard from out of the

corner of my eye and crinkle his forehead in

concentration. "Yeah… she wanted a Christmas tree so

much. We were kind of the minority in our particular

neighborhood, so… we were inundated with Christmas.

Every other house on the block was covered in lights

and decked out for Christmas, with huge, colorful trees

in their windows…"

"I bet that was hard."

"Not hard, really, but being that young, it was just

difficult to understand why we couldn't have trees and

Santa and Christmas, like the other kids on our block,

too. And that year, I remember her whining that her

friends had them and she begged and cried…"

"Well, they are pretty cool."

He shoots me a small smile. "I don't know what it was,

or why they finally gave in. Probably because my mom

always secretly liked Christmas trees, too. But they

finally relented and got a Chanukah bush. Of course, it

was the biggest pine tree I'd ever seen, set right in our

living room. It was, without a doubt, a Christmas tree,

but my parents called it a Chanukah bush."

"Really." I smile and squeeze his hands. "The Lymans

with their very own Christmas… I mean, Chanukah

bush."

"Yeah. Thinking back, we really liked the tree, I bet it

would have become a tradition if Joanie hadn't..." He

trails off, leaving the thought unspoken.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but the holidays… really no holiday was the same

after she died. I can't believe I forgot that."

"You were pretty young; it's not surprising you would

have forgotten."

"Yeah, I guess that could be one of the reasons I’m not

that into any of the holidays…"

We sit in silence for several moments before I turn

towards him. "We're going to change that."

He looks at me skeptically, but I can still see a smile

play around the corners of his mouth. "Are you sure

that's something that needs changing?"

"Yes, because you're not alone anymore, Josh."

He turns towards me slightly and then leans over and

kisses me sweetly, before leveling his gaze at me.

"Donna, I haven't felt alone since the day I met you."

His words have the desired effect on me. If his desired

effect was to get me to kiss him senseless, headless of

the fact that we're sitting at the back of the largest

Christmas tree lot in the metropolitan D.C. area, in the

freezing cold, in plain view of anyone that might also be

in the market for a Christmas tree on a Tuesday night in

early December.

Reluctantly, I pull away and settle back against his arm,

which is now stretched behind me. "So tell me about

this large Chanukah bush. What did you put on it?"

After I ask the question I take a sip of my hot chocolate,

which is now lukewarm, and realize that I'm freezing. I

also realize that I desperately need to stand up in order

to get the blood circulating in my legs again and we

should probably get a move on with picking out a tree

and getting it back to my place. But Josh seems willing

to talk about his childhood, and there is nothing in the

world that would make me do anything that might

disrupt his reminiscence. It's something that doesn't

happen very often, and I regard it as a precious gift.

"There was no baby Jesus in a manger, if that's what

you're asking." I can hear the amusement in his voice

"I wasn't." I whap him lightly on the shoulder. "I don't

have any baby-Jesus-in-a-manger ornaments either, in

case you were worried."

Josh ignores me and looks thoughtful for a second. "I

just remember lights... lots and lots of lights."

"Yeah." I nod my head and run my thumb along his

where our hands are linked. "The lights are pretty

much the best part."

He gets a faraway look in his eye and a small smile

crosses his face. "And paper snowflakes... Mom got out

the construction paper and we made all these paper

snowflakes. I remember cutting for hours because

Joanie rejected all my snowflakes for not being uniform

enough. But I kept going, because I wanted to make a

snowflake that passed her inspection."

"Did you?"

"I don't think so. But then Mom said that we were going

to use them all, and we did."

"What about for the top?"

Josh furrows his brow and then smiles. "A stuffed teddy

bear. Joanie's stuffed teddy bear. I remember my dad

on a ladder, cussing, trying to tie her teddy bear to the

top of the tree... errrr, bush."

"That's nice. That's really nice." I link my arm through

his and hug it tightly to me.

"Donna?" He smiles down at me.

"Yes?"

"I can't feel my bottom."

I return his grin. "Me either."

"We should get going, because I'm not comfortable with

being unable to feel my bottom."

"'Kay," I agree and start to stand.

"Wait." He tugs on my arm.

"What?" I ask with a crinkled brow.

"Right there." I glance to where he's pointing. "Have I

gotten the hang of this? Or is that not the perfect tree?"

It's only about five feet away from us and he's right; it's

exactly what we're looking for. Size, shape, tree-type.

I must have looked at it a dozen times since we've been

sitting on this bench, and never really noticed it.

"Imagine that. The perfect tree, right under our noses

the whole time."

He smiles knowingly at me. "Yeah, life is funny like that

sometimes."

***

We get the tree strapped to the car and then back to

her place, surprisingly incident-free. There is a

wrestling match with the stand, but eventually we get

the thing upright and into the corner of her small living

room. The lights are a whole other matter.

"You can't just throw them on!" She's scowling at me. I

like it when she twinkles at me, not so much when she

scowls at me.

"Why not?"

"What do you mean why? Because! There has to be

order, or they'll get all clumpy and look bad. Here, let

me show you."

Now she's standing behind me, showing me how to hook

and drape the lights over the branches. All I really care

about is the fact that I can feel her pressed up against

my backside. Putting lights on a Christmas tree is fun.

"Good. Now let me see you do it by yourself." She

steps to the side to survey my technique. Suddenly

putting lights on the Christmas tree is a lot less fun.

"What am I, your manservant now?"

"Maybe a little." But she wraps her arms around my

waist and hugs me from behind.

"Awfully cocky for a girl who won't put out, aren't you?"

"Yup, because I know you're in this at least until you get

a little action. Which gives me like, twenty some days in

which to boss you around."

"What happens after twenty some days?" I couldn't stop

the goofy grin that is spreading across my face if I tried.

"Oh, by then you'll be totally smitten with me. And I'll

be able to boss you around because of that."

"You think I'm going to be smitten?"

"Yup, in fact, I guarantee it."

I flip around in her arms so that we are face to face. "I

have news for you, Miss Moss…"

"What's that?"

"I'm already smitten."

"You are?" Boy, do I love it when I make her blush.

"Yup, totally smitten."

"Well, then…" She leans forward and presses her lips to

mine in a way that's so soft and so sweet that I really

would be okay if her lips never left mine. Finally she

pulls away and continues, "…get to work. This tree isn't

going to decorate itself." And then she steps away, pats

me on the butt and starts unraveling more lights.

***

Thirty minutes later we've got the lights on, and a good

number of ornaments have been hung with care. She

seems to be very fond of glass balls and things made

with painted Popsicle sticks. There are a lot of those;

apparently she has lots of little relatives who have made

and sent those to her over the years. I can't wait to

meet them all! You don't believe me, do you? As we

stand back to survey our handiwork, I notice that she's

shaking her head.

"What?" It looks pretty good to me.

"Something's missing."

"I don't know. We've got the tree pretty full as it is."

It's hard hunting for open spots to hang things, like the

priceless crystal angels that she got from her

grandmother. Frankly, it was more than a little

nervewracking. I'm not sure I was cut out to handle

such delicate things.

"I've got it!"

"What?"

"Stay here," she orders as she starts to head out of the

room.

"Where would I go?"

She stops at the hallway entrance and eyes me

suspiciously. "Into the bedroom to paw through my

underwear drawer."

"That hadn't even occurred to me!" I defend, but then

kind of ruin the effect by adding, "But can I?"

"No." But she shoots me a seductive smile. "At least

not right now. I'll be right back." And she disappears

down the hall. A minute later she appears, waving an

armful of supplies at me.

"What's that?"

She raises her eyebrow at the question. "What does it

look like? It's construction paper."

"You actually have construction paper?"

"Sure."

"Why? Are you twelve?"

"No, I'm… slightly older than that."

"Then why?"

"Because I'm crafty. And because my ex-roommate has

nieces and nephews that would stop by occasionally. I

think there are crayons, too."

"What are we doing with the construction paper and

crayons?"

"We aren't doing anything with the crayons. With

construction paper, we're each going to make a paper

snowflake… for the tree. In memory of Joanie."

Without my consent, I feel burning behind my eyes and

something constrict around my chest. I bite my lip and

start blinking rapidly. "Donna…"

"Is that okay?" She looks at me earnestly.

So as not to expose myself, I don't speak, but I do nod

vigorously. Her thoughtfulness is something that never

ceases to amaze me. She pretends not to notice that

I'm choked up, and begins to spread out the paper on

the floor.

"What color do you want?" She looks up at me with

wide eyes and I'm reminded once again what an idiot I

was all those years and how much I want to be with her,

always.

"Blue. Joanie liked blue." I drop to my knees and plop

down beside her.

And then we're sitting on her living room floor at the

foot of the tree, folding and cutting construction paper

into snowflakes. Of all the things that I thought I'd be

doing tonight, this wasn't even a possibility. But it's

clear to me that there is nothing I'd rather be doing and

no place I'd rather be.

The End