As Soft As Snow

Devil's in the Details

The drive home was quiet as a graveyard at night. Neither me nor my mom talked to each other much anymore. I didn't mean what I said, but I still won't talk to her. She's gone all day, and a lot of the time, all night. Leaving me to fend for myself. We never talk because we never have time to talk, and when we do have time to talk, we don't because of the things I can't control.

When we got to the apartment, I got out first to unlock the door. One of the upper windows was smashed a few years back because of some drunk kid throwing a brick through it. The walls were made of aged brick, glued together with cracking mortar, and the door was made of dark, aged wood. I'm honestly surprised that our apartment hasn't been broken into yet.

My key clicked in the lock and the door swung open. Our front door led straight to our kitchen, so whenever we had guests, which isn't very often, they get a full view of our uncleanliness. Whether its the dirt on the table from our failed attempts at gardening to the oil on the oven that we never wipe off, It's a mess no matter how you shape it or phrase it. I stepped into the apartment and immediately started cleaning the counters.

I planned on inviting Will over in a few days, so I scrubbed as hard as I could, but the grime stayed on as if it was super-glued. My mother joined me in the apartment and went straight upstairs to sleep. I scrubbed and scrubbed, but the grease and dirt stayed put on the table. An ugly thing that I couldn't clean. After exactly an hour of scrubbing and yelling and different chemical baths and treatments, a fourth of the grime was gone, so I changed course to doing the dishes.

After a tiring night, the sun rose on a clean kitchen, two spotless bedrooms, and one sleep-deprived teenager who's off to school. I had to stop myself from falling asleep as I trotted along the sidewalk. Eventually and finally, I made it to the elective building and rode the elevator all the way up into the sky.

A bright sunrise greeted me as I stepped out of the elevator, bright light flooding my eyes. The speaker sat motionless in the corner while the room danced with light. Buildings sparkled like stars in space outside the window as the sunlight bounced off glass windows. I dropped my backpack by the window and waited for the others.

I must have dozed off, when the others arrived, as I was shaken awake to see much of the class already there and dropping off their stuff. Lucille stood over me her hand on my shoulder, wearing a knowing smile.

"Stay up too late last night?"

"Something like that, yeah."

My brain hadn't fully woken up yet, so as kids filed over to the bar to start warm ups, I tripped and landed on the floor, hard. My friends helped me up, and asked if I was okay. My head hurt a lot more now. I didn't know whether I was tired because of last night, or if I had a headache because of the fall. I also heard some voices to the left of me start whispering and laughing.

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In math, I tried to stay awake, but the longer that his voice droned on and on, the more the whiteboard grew blurrier until it all just turned black. Characters from my imagination sprang up and went back to work. Ideas floated up in my consciousness, half-formed, and fully formed at the same time.

"Emilie, wake up, the class is over!" Lucille half-shouted, half-whispered into my ear. I'd slept through the entire period. I quickly jerked my head up, noted the homework pages, and then rushed off. As I near the door, the teacher stops me. His tie is crooked, his suit is wrinkled, and he's holding a thick packet.

"Extra homework for a sleepy girl. Maybe next time don't sleep in my class." He told me in a low voice so that the others didn't hear him. I grabbed the packet and squished my way out the door with all the other students. The day was moving too fast. Before I knew it, I was on my way to the ballet studio for some practice. Up the elevator, into the lobby, into the studio, and warm up.

I rubbed my hands together, trying to warm up. I was cold. The Winter does that often, makes you so cold that you can't feel when you are cold. Over to the speakers, over achieving? No. Never. Random thoughts swirled through my head, but as the music of Tchaikovsky flowed out of the speaker, they disappeared, like sugar dissolving in water. It helped me with my thoughts. They disappear from my head whenever the music comes on as if chased away like mice from a cat.

While I was dancing, I sometimes saw Madame glance through the doorway as she moved around outside. She always wore a worried expression now, she might have something going on in her life too. I danced until the music stopped for the fifth time, and I was exhausted. I allowed myself a 5-minute break before I moved on to the second song.

The time moved way too fast as I stared out of the window at the setting sun. The clock read 6:37, exactly 3 more hours and 23 minutes until I had to go to the cafe to meet my mom. I heard a knock at the door and turned to find Madame in the doorway. She came in and sat beside me and looked out the window as well.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it as if deciding that the words weren't worth the effort. She looked at me for a long while before pulling me into a hug. I was taken aback, she'd never done this to any of her other students, why me? Despite how wrong it felt, it felt right. I felt right at home. Maybe she thought I was suicidal, but it didn't matter. The sunset shone its golden orange light on me as she stood up and left. Thoughts bounced around in my head like hyperactive kids in a trampoline park.

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The music flowed, each note, art in itself, and I was an artist attempting to match it. Perfect. Perfect. It has to be perfect. Everything has to be perfect. Nothing less. Nothing less than perfect. I twirled around the room like a spinning top. So weightless I could escape gravity. But what kept me anchored was the music. The music, the music. The floor raced towards me, my legs failing me. I landed on my side, and pain shot up my arm. The lights fading slowly to black. I could've sworn I saw Him.