Snow Angels

         Majestic pines surround a secluded little house, buffering the wind. Although the hills glisten beneath a thick sheet of ice and the forest rings with the sound of icicles rattling to the ground, the snow below is barely frosted. Still, the air is bitter, and a slight breeze penetrates the barrier, icing the windows and nipping at bare skin.
         Karen bends over and hastily picks at her bootlaces with numb fingers. The knot eventually gives away, and she pulls on the boot’s sides to loosen the laces. She holds the storm door open with her shoulder and fumbles through her keys to find the shiniest one. Just as she finds it, the door swings open to reveal a widely-grinning Robby. “The door’s unlocked,” he says.
         “Would you like to help out your poor, distressed wife? Honey?”
         He holds the door open for her so that she can kick off her boots and hop onto the wooden floor inside. Once the door is closed again, he enwraps her in his arms. Her keys jingle as she raises her fingers to trace the curve of his cheek.
         “Mmm. You shaved,” she coos, then abruptly wrinkles her nose in distaste. “And you used your mouthwash.” She steps out of his arms, rubbing the side of her nose.
         “What’s wrong with my mouthwash?” he asks.
         “I told you before. It makes you smell like you’ve been drinking. I don’t know why you’d want that.”
         “Oh, come on, Karen. I just don’t want to waste the stuff,” he says, carefully pushing a lock of his slicked-back hair into place.
         “I’ll buy you another bottle if you don’t want to spend the money.”
         “It’s all the same money,” he says, laughing. “I’ll pick up another bottle when I go out to get a mat for the entryway.”
         “A shoemat…” she sighs, dreamily.
         “A house!” he exclaims, gesturing about.
         “With boxes—boxes everywhere!” she exclaims.
         He laughs and shakes his head. “That’s what you get, insisting on celebrating Christmas here.”
         She slips her keys into her coat pocket and playfully shoos him with a hand. “It was nice. The kids enjoyed it.”
         Robby grins, then reaches over to brush aside the silk curtain and duck down to peek out beneath the icicles.
         ”Where’re the kids?” she asks.
         “In the front yard until the babysitter arrives. I’ve been keeping an eye on them.”
         “Are you sure they won’t wander off?”
         “Of course. Where would they go?”
         The woman smiles. “Okay, point taken. It’s a good thing you salted the steps to the garage, or we’d be trapped here. I almost didn’t even make it to the caterer’s. The roads are a deathtrap.”
         Robby glances at his watch. “Explains why the babysitter’s late.”
         “That, or I might have given her the wrong address.”
         He just chuckles at this. “I think ‘the only house in the hollow at the end of the road,’ is a pretty unique description.’
         Karen raises her hands in mock-exasperation.
         Abruptly, Robby makes for the stairway, his shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor.
         “Forget something?” she asks as he passes.
         “My camera,” he responds. “I want pictures of Marty’s famous Cadillac.”
         “Is this one of those guy things?” she calls up to him. He smiles down at her from atop of the balcony.
         “Yup!” he responds before ducking into their bedroom.
         Inside, he quickly walks over to the nightstand and kneels down beside it. He opens the drawer, but instead of pulling out his camera, he takes the drawer out completely. He sets it down on the plush green carpet and reaches into the bowels of the dresser, withdrawing a bottle. The liquid inside bubbles cheerfully. Unscrewing the top, he presses the rim to his lips and takes a deep swig. Suddenly, someone gasps behind him. He snaps his head around see his son Gabriel standing in the doorway, his snowsuit hanging off and a boot in hand.
         “No more drinking, Daddy!” the boy yells.
         “Gabe, what’re you doing in here?” he asks, dropping the bottle.
         “I’m telling Mommy!”
         “No! Gabe, come back here!” Robby leaps to his feet, using his heel to kick the bottle beneath the bed. It smashes against the wall. He cusses and chases after his son.
         “Mommy! Mommy!” The boy stumbles across the hallway. Robby abruptly stops when he sees Karen staring at him from below.
         “Daddy’s drinking! I saw him!”
         “Shut up, Gabe! Don’t lie to your mother!”
         Karen’s eyes burn as she stomps around the corner and up the stairway. She whisks past her son who sits inside the bathroom to watch the scene. The woman storms right up to Robby. He turns his face away. She grabs him by the chin and takes a deep sniff. Her jaw drops.
         “I can’t believe you! Mouthwash? Mouthwash? Bullshit, Robby! You’ve been drinking this whole time!”
         She pushes him aside and rushes into the bedroom. He grits his teeth and stares at Gabriel, who begins sniffling.
         Karen practically chokes on the smell of alcohol. She glances at the top of the bureau, the windowsill, the television, then notices the wet patch expanding from beneath the bed. The woman drops to her knees and grabs a shard of glass with the bottle’s logo hanging from it. She rushes back into the hallway, thrusting it at his face. Vodka drips from the sopping paper.
         “I was proud, Rob!” she screams, her face reddening. “I wanted to show you off to everyone! I was so proud! Your first sober New Year!” She sighs, dropping the fragment onto the carpet. “You just stay here. Clean up the mess.”
         “I’m going to the party, Karen,” he says, firmly gripping her shoulder.
         “No, Robby, you’re not!” She pushes his hand away. “I’m going to go to the party and I’m going to pretend this never happened. When the babysitter gets here, you’re going to spend time deciding what’s more important, your alcohol, or me and the kids, because if I see another drop of alcohol in this house, Robert, I swear, I’m packing up! I wanted this house to be our new start! You ruined it.” She opens her mouth as though she has something else to say, but instead snaps it closed and hurries down the stairway.
         Gabe is waiting near the entrance where he had retreated during the argument. “Are you okay, Mommy?” he asks, wiping his nose on his sleeve. His mother lifts him up and cradles him in her arms, running her fingers through his hair.
         “Mommy’s fine, Gabe. She just had to yell at Daddy. Thank you for being a good boy. Such a very good boy.” Karen barely manages to keep her voice steady. “You have fun outside, sweetie. Mind the babysitter. Mommy’ll see you tomorrow, after she gets back, okay?”
         “Okay,” he says, nodding his head slowly.
         Karen sets him back on the floor and opens the door. Casting one more stinging look up at Robby, she steps into her boots and shuts the door firmly behind her.
         Robby stands where he is, watching the clock tick away the seconds. His hands are clenched into fists. Gabriel puts on his boot and tugs at the sides of his snowsuit.
         “Gabriel!” Robby hollers down at him. “What were you doing inside?”
         The little boy folds the hem of his wool hat up so he can see his father. “Lilly wanted to know if you could make snow angels with her,” he says, waddling back and forth in his little boots.
         “You’re not going back outside, Gabe. You’re grounded.”
         “Why?” the boy asks, frowning.
         “Because you disobeyed me,” Robby’s voice rumbles. “I told you not to tell your mother. You disobeyed me and told her anyways.”
         “But Mommy said to…”
         “You don’t listen to your mother! What I say goes. Understand?”
         The boy purses his lips. “Okay.”
         “Now, come up here and go to your room. You can take your clothes off there. We’ll hang them up later.”
         Gabriel lowers his head and slowly walks up the stairs, staring at the floor to avoid looking at his father. “When can I come out?” he asks.
         “When I say so. And don’t you come out before I say, or I’ll belt you. Understood?”
         The door just clicks closed. Gabriel jumps into his bed and begins sobbing.
         Robby bends over to grab the label on the floor and walks down to the kitchen to throw it out. He barely has a chance to wash his hands afterwards when the doorbell chimes. He shakes his hands dry and walks over to answer it.
         “Hi, I’m Rachel!” greets a cheerful, darkly-freckled girl. “I’m here to baby-sit Lily and Gabriel! I already met Lily in the yard!”
         Lily sits in the snow beside the walkway, listening in.
         “Hello, Rachel. I’m Robert.”
         The girl enthusiastically shakes his hand. “It’s nice to meet you!”
         “I’m afraid there’s been a mix-up. I’ll be home all evening, so we won’t be needing you.”
         The girl looks disappointed. “Oh,” she says. “Well, alright.”
         “I’m sorry. I could give you a bit for your troubles. I’m sure getting here was a challenge.”
         “Oh, no, it’s not that. I’m just not sure… I mean, I made it down here alright, but I’m not really sure how to get to my car, you know?”
         He gestures over his shoulder. “Just go around the back of the house. The steps there’ll take you to the road.”
         “Oh, okay then! Thanks! You have a nice night, okay?”
         “Thanks Rachel. You too.”
         Robby slams the door and flips the lock, lumbering toward his bedroom. On the way, he bangs on Gabriel’s bedroom door. The boy leaps beneath the covers.
         “Remember, no coming out or I’ll grab the belt!” he hollers. “Just be happy I’m not coming in there!”
         He takes the boy’s silence as understanding. He steps into his own bedroom and switches on the old television, sprawling out on his bed. The floor is darkened where the alcohol had spilled. He makes a mental note to clean it up later. He kicks his shoes off and releases a deep sigh, letting his back sink into the plush bedding. The wind begins to pick up outside.
         Robby hears Gabriel talking to himself in the other room. Grumbling, he grabs the remote off the nightstand and turns up the television’s volume. The thick aroma of alcohol eventually lulls him to sleep.

         Robby awakens to flashing lights and cheering crowds. His eyes flutter open. The screen is filled by the sea of people flooding Times Square. The New Year’s ball is dropping.
         “Three!” The people cry in unison. “Two! One! Happy new year!”
         The giant ball flashes and the crowd roars. Robby smiles. A new year. He closes his eyes and returns to his slumber during the first few verses of the national anthem.

         “Daddy?”
         Robby turns over and glances at the doorway where Gabriel leans, clad in his snowman pajamas.
         “Gabe,” he mumbles, sitting up and wiping his mouth on his hand. He hastily searches for the remote in the covers, but gives up a moment later.
         “What did I tell you… about coming out of your room?”
The boy lowers his head as he approaches the bed, his outstretched hand presenting the phone.
         “It’s Mommy. She told me to give it to you.”
         He rubs his eyes. “Oh. Okay. Give me the phone.”
         “Hello?” he speaks groggily into the receiver.
         “Hi, Robert,” says his wife’s stern voice. “How are you feeling?”
         “Fine. Tired.”
         “How’re the kids?”
         “Gabe’s fine. He’s right here. Lily’s playing outside still.”
         There is a long pause on the other end of the line before she responds. “This early?” she asks, slowly.
         Robby glances at the clock. “It’s 6:00, Karen,” he says.
         It takes a moment for it to register. The digital clock displays a little tick beside “AM.”
         “Jesus Christ!” he yells, dropping the phone and scrambling out of the bed. The blankets tangle around his legs and nearly trip him before they relinquish their hold and he darts into the hallway.
         Gabriel toddles over to the phone and picks up the receiver. “Mommy?”
         Robby nearly slips on the way down the stairs, but manages to catch himself on the rail, and never stops running. He yanks on the door handle. It’s locked.
         “Oh God no!” he cries, unlocking it and running out into the yard. The snow soaks his socks. The entire yard is white, completely frozen over. He runs down the path, toward the clearing where Lily likes to play. There is no sign of her. Then he notices a hint of yellow peeking out of a mound of snow by the shed.
         There, his daughter’s body is curled up with a yellow blanket beneath a layer of fine powder. Her skin is a shade of gray like ash, and her lips are the color of the stormy sky. The father frantically brushes the snow off her hardened skin and tries to lift her off the ground. She sticks for a moment before the ice cracks and he manages to drag her onto his lap. His tears pour onto her, but their warmth won’t return life to her lifeless form.
         “No God! Please! This can’t be happening!” The buffeting wind devours his words.
         Gabriel approaches from behind, sobbing.
         “Daddy’s holding her. She won’t wake up.” The boy says into the phone. He swallows, dropping it into the snow. The mother screams unintelligibly over the receiver.
         “Why didn’t you tell me she was locked out?” he screams at the boy. “What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you let her in?”
         “You said you’d belt me!” the boy chokes out, frantically wiping his eyes.
         The man curls up over his daughter’s body, gasping, drowning in his own tears.
         “You never should have listened to me, Gabe. Never.”
         The boy tugs at the blanket frozen to Lily’s skin. “She couldn’t reach the blanket to climb in the window, but I gave it to her because she was cold.”
         “God!” he screams, the cry curdling into a shriek. “I should have listened to your mother. Always listen to your mother, Gabe. Always do what she says. No matter what I say.”
         The little boy frowns for a moment before walking over to a shovel, yanking it out of the ground. He drags it over to his father. Robby is so deep in his despair that he doesn’t even notice.
         “Always obey your mother,” the father sobs.
         The boy cracks his father across the head with the rusty shovel. Robby spills blood across Lily’s body and falls backwards. He presses his hands to his throbbing temples, withdrawing them again only to find them dripping crimson.
         “What’re you doing?” Robby sputters, looking up at his son with the shovel raised high over his head. The rising sun illuminates the boy from behind, giving him a flaming aura.
         “Mommy wants you to die,” Gabe whispers.
         “Please, Gabe, wait…” The father raises his hands in an attempt to block out the blinding light.
         The boy brings the sharp edge of the shovel onto his father’s head.


Author’s Note: There is an abridged version available for those who feel this story lacked focus. The abridged version may be viewed here: "Snow Angels (Abridged)" .