A Year Without Snow

-11-

Saturday, 3rd December 2016

I woke up in an alt, as scenes from a dream I couldn't remember shook the peacefulness of my sleep and made me face the cold real world. For a second of serene and tranquil confusion, I let the familiar environment warm my heart until the sudden and cold memories of last night's turns made the insides of my stomach threaten to come up my throat.

I sat on the bedsheets and looked around the room as if looking for the missing part in the division, and I suddenly remembered that Bryson was sleeping on the couch. Not wanting an unwanted encounter I quickly rose from the bed, but as soon as I stood up my head threatened to carry me to the ground as my knees gave up on their strengths. I stood there a few seconds, allowing my head to regain its composure before moving towards my clothes that were on the back of Bryson's computer chair. I quickly changed, cringing with embarrassment as I remember how I had gotten the shirt on which I had slept.

I made his bed, careful not to make much noise, then folded the orange shirt and rested it on his bed. I was about to leave the room when a long internal argument distracted me, and I finally decided it was better to leave him a note.

I went over to his desk and looked for a pen and paper to write on. But as I was looking I noticed a few pictures that were placed on a pinboard over the desk. I had seen this photograph countless times, but I wasn't expecting to find them still here.

The oldest was taken on the first day it snowed after I'd arrived at Oak Hollow. Me and Bryson sat on the snow-covered lawn in front of my house, and I wondered how I could have ever been that small.  The next photo was taken on Bryson's seventh birthday where he was wearing a Back to the Future t-shirt that I had given to him that same day. And the last one was a Polaroid that had been taken just a year ago in the school cafeteria where Bryson was sitting on one of the blue chairs and I was standing over him hugging him by the shoulders, his hands were rested on my arms and we were both shooting our tongues out to the camera. I looked at myself in every photo and realized how disappointed that girl would've been if she knew how things had turned out.

I finally came across a notebook and tore a page out of it. After a moment of debate on what to write, I picked up a pen and scribbled 'Thanks for letting me crash. - Daisy'.

I made my way out of the room and as soon as I closed the sliding door behind me I came across Bryson lying on the couch. I thanked all the divine entities up there for finding him asleep and slowly walked to the stairs that led upstairs. I noiselessly went up while taking my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and saw with relief that it was eight in the morning, which meant my mother had already left for the morning shift.

I got out of the house without walking across anyone and let out a deep breath as I stepped on the front porch, the cold December air rapidly hurrying to greet me. I walked as fast as I could to my house and when I finally closed the door behind me, I stepped out of my shoes and numbly walked up to my room and without bothering to take off the rest of my clothes I laid on my bed and prayed that my dreams would summon me and take me away from this horrible reality.

. . . . .

I woke up with an uncomfortable buzzing noise coming from the pocket of my jeans. I rolled over on the bed and took out the device, Grace's face greeted me and I sighed heavily before pressing the green button and resting the phone against my ear before laying on my bed again.

"Daisy?" She asked in a whisper.

"Yes it's me," I answered my voice husky from the lack of use since last night.

"Oh thank God!" She sighed, "I've been calling you all morning! I was so worried... I thought something like the last time had happened and..."

"I'm fine, Grace," I assured her while absently looking at my pink ceiling.

"Are you sure? Did you get home fine last night?" She asked worry back in her voice.

"Yes, I'm fine. And... uh, Bryson gave me a ride." I was in no mood to explain to her what happened last night.

"Wait. What?"

"Nothing, he just gave me a ride."

"Does that mean that you guys are, like, back together..." She hesitantly asked.

"No. It means he gave me a ride." I explained.

"Oh, okay. Well, at least some good news. Look, I was thinking that maybe we could go and see that new Tom Hanks movie tonight." She asked hopefully and I closed my eyes and raised my hand to my forehead.

"I- I'm not really in the mood for that today, Grace."

"Okay, maybe tomorrow then." She suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. I gotta go, Grace. Talk to you later."

"Okay." She replied, "And, Daisy,"

"Yes?"

"Don't shut us down again. Please."

"I won't," I assured her, and after tossing my phone into the soft mess of my mattress I turned on the bed falling asleep again the moment my head hit the pillow.

. . . . .

That day I woke only when my mom came home from work, at eight o'clock. After allowing my stomach some food, I was planning on reading, but the moment I tried to concentrate on the words, my head started to turn to unwanted thoughts. I had been so stupid the previous night.

Not only did I make a fool of myself in front of the new guy, but I also worried my friends, while putting myself in danger again by drinking. And finally, I understood that that night I had wasted my last chance with Bryson. I couldn't say I regretted that part a lot, but I also came to terms that there was no saving after that.

I closed the book on my lap and walked over to the window seat and rested my head against the cold glass. The sky behind the naked branches of the trees was grey and threatening to wash the streets with water.

I let a final teardrop from my eyes, while I made a final promise to myself. Enough of weakness. Enough of self-pity. Enough of vulnerability. I was going to enjoy senior year. I promised myself. With or without the person I cared about the most in this world. I was going for the first time in my life to be only Daisy. Not waiting for any name to come after that.

Coming to terms with this truth was one of the most horrible insightful moments of my life.

But then, that was life. Full of turning point enough to leave you awestruck. These past few months had been an adaptation to this horrible reality, but now sitting there by the window I understood that I was tired of hoping.

I was tired of the guilt I felt for something I didn't do. I was tired of living in a shadow that other people built for me.

I was tired of the thought of Bryson. Why was he the one who got to be mad? When I was much more of a victim than he would ever be. If he had gone through what I had been, I thought. But I could never wish that to anyone else.

And sorrow was replaced by anger, sadness by conviction. And the love I felt for Bryson by a flame of superficial anger.

But anger nonetheless.