VIRGIN SNOW 

An empty gin bottle flew spinning across the room.  When it missed the overflowing wastebasket, the spectators jeered at the pitcher.  A vodka bottle followed next, and a drained rum bottle third.  All missed the top.  The Scotch bottle did a slow roll off as the fifth, bourbon, found the exact top of the pile and came to rest.  The three friends congratulated the fourth at passing the sobriety test.

        “All right you drunken wasters!  Get the hell out of here before you start throwing something heavy and kill someone.”

        The three departing revelers belched in unison.  

        “There’s lots more where that came from,” Dave proudly slurred.

        “And look, we’re still standing.”  He looked at his friends weaving back and forth.

        “Yeah, barely standing.”

        After five days of drinking every flavor and strength of alcohol ever invented by humanity, after five days of cross country skiing, after five days of all night card games and talk, their hands shook mightily and walking was a relearned skill.  Regardless, they left the cabin and climbed into Dave’s red Subaru, the perfect end to a perfect bachelor party. And the bachelor still had a few days to go on his own.
        The cabin had no running water, no electricity, and best of all, no recycled, processed air. On this planet you could actually travel in a hydrocarbon burning, chest thumping, internal combustion powered vehicle under your own command. You could even burn wood and not get arrested. And if you didn’t burn wood, you might freeze to death before the patrols could find you.
        The snow was falling in large flakes, dancing in the wind from the east.  Roaring through the trees, pounding in the road, piling up on the barriers guarding the driveway, which was becoming invisible as it filled with the fast falling snow.
        Dave found a bottle in the Subaru, nearly forgotten under the seat. It had been their sustenance on the trip in and now it would be the dessert to a week of drinking, skiing, talking all night, card playing and general freedom.

        “WHISKEE!  WHISKEE! WHISKEE! WHISKEE!” they shouted as it passed around.

        “Remember, you drunks, three miles, then the left fork.  Eight more miles to the highway, then left!” Ray boomed, standing unsteadily at the driver’s open window.

        “Poor Ray!  His woman didn’t show!  I think he wants to be alone with his free hand lover,” Dave shouted to his two laughing passengers.

        “You just keep your mind on the road and not on my genitals!  And watch that hill, it’s steep!”  He grabbed for the bottle but the car started off its wheels spinning snow and leaving clouds vapor billowing in the cold air.  He swayed a little.

        The ringing in his ears became apparent only when he entered the quiet stillness of the cabin.  The main room was large and designed for cooking and comfortable living.  It was furnished with a table, six chairs, a wood burning cookstove, two sofas, three chairs, and an area rug that had seen some wear. The second room was slightly smaller than the first and contained four double size bed frames strung with rope, an old wooden dresser with a mirror, several shelves along the walls, and a small woodstove which heated water for the makeshift shower in the far corner of the room. Ray’s air mattress and sleeping bag were on one frame.
        When he realized that the cookstove was getting cold, Ray stepped out to the woodpile, but hurriedly continued to the outhouse instead.
        He returned with an armful of wood and felt hunger gnawing at his queasy stomach. He did not want to cook but decided that any kind of lunch needed lots of hot, black coffee and a clearer head. They drank the last of  the coffee that morning. To clear his head, he needed to get outside on his skis, and head down the mountain to the Center Moreland Tavern to Claire’s coffee and heavenly lunch temptations. It was eleven o’clock and about 10* Fahrenheit. A steady, determined snowstorm was beginning.
        He avoided the Subaru’s tortuous tire tracks as best he could and fell down twice until he reached the fork where there was undisturbed snow that would take him to the tavern. He stopped and looked down both roads, which curved away from each other. To the right, the sheltered slope was not too fast for his condition, and the soft, powdery snow would retard his descent. The left road was much steeper and broken by Dave’s tire tracks. It was more directly down, decorated with ice patches where the forest had been logged and the wind scoured away anything delicate.
        A push with his poles started him effortlessly down the right fork.  The falling flakes stung his face as his speed increased, but his head began to clear and he felt life returning to his cadaverous form.  It was steadier skiing on the virgin snow, no surprises underfoot.
        The slope leveled for the final two miles before the tavern and he had to work to make any progress.  His breathing became hard and patterned, rhythmically synchronized to the motion of his arms and legs.  The warm glow that began inside his jacket at his shoulders and neck spread over him well before he broke a sweat.  His cadence came quite naturally and without much conscious effort after the first mile.
        This road, as were all the roads through and around the mountains, was one narrow lane.  The surfaces were mud in Spring, dust in Summer, leaves in Fall, and some form of snow or ice in Winter.  Snowmobile trails, like the paths worn by white tail deer, snaked through the trees, joining here and there with the official roads.  Ray especially enjoyed the solitude of this section of the mountains in mid January.  The snow was generally abundant and long lasting and the frequent snow showers ensured that there was always a fresh layer.  In this part of Pennsylvania, it could snow to a white out for an hour or two then suddenly stop and become sparkling, clear and sunny.  The coldness remained, though, the sun had no effect on that until well into spring.
        He paused to listen to the snow fight the wind through the crackling, creaking trees and thought there was no better place on Earth.  He found himself thinking about Janet and how much she disliked the cold and snow, or any such extremes.  She would not have complained about it immediately, of course.  On matters like that she waited until there was an advantage to remind him of her sacrifice. He was elated when she rejected his reluctant invitation.  She was invited for Friday night to stay the weekend, but the bitter cold weather as much as his unenthusiastic invitation discouraged her.  That was exactly what he wanted.  He would have had to kick the guys out Friday, and taken a merciless ribbing for it, instead of letting them leave on their own on Saturday.  He liked Janet, maybe even loved her and he certainly enjoyed being around her.  But it seemed to him that their likes and dislikes were too contrary to satisfy both of them for long.
        Janet was a cool-weather woman, no extremes at all in her likes and dislikes. Fall and spring, twilight time just before the sun set and darkness cloaked everything, and early mornings just before the sun rose were her favorite times.  She was a walker, not a runner.  She was a cat person, not a dog lover.  She did not have that physical self confidence that comes from being fit and toned and is often mistaken for arrogance.  Rather, she was analytical and organized and categorized every aspect of her life, placing and classifying things neatly into divisions, segments, and subcategories.  She never trusted her own memory for anything and made lists for everything.
        Ironically, she taught Ray cross-country skiing, patiently, the previous year.  He found that it was nearly as good as sex. He skied his way, aggressively, covering as much distance in as short a time as possible, the exact opposite of Janet’s easygoing, relaxed pace.  Her pace was relaxed, but she concentrated mightily to attain and maintain that effortless pace and it irritated him.  Nevertheless, he was always eager for a ski outing, even with Janet.  All winter he carried with him her boots, skis and poles, just in case she wanted an excursion on short notice.  Mostly, he did all the suggesting and was turned down more often than he was accepted.
        They had not skied together this season and it was late January already.  The best part of winter was gone and soon, too soon for him, spring would make the snow disappear.  She seemed more distant lately, and he could not understand why.  She was not preoccupied with the wedding; all that was under perfect, tight control which was how she did everything.  Everything had to be planned, written on detailed lists, and analyzed.  Ray did everything from memory and sometimes, rarely, he forgot a few details.
        His growling stomach interrupted his thoughts as he started on the final mile.
        Center Moreland itself consisted of a combination tavern, post office, restaurant, and grocery store.  The gas station was across the street, next door to the hardware store.  A few houses, clean, bright, well-kept but obviously not showcases, bordered the few struggling farms.  The forest dominated the surroundings even though logging had left several cleared areas and many sections whose trees were barely above the snow.
        Of course, there was tourism.  The real season for that was Summer and Fall when the forest was well greened and the lakes and ponds thawed.
        He schussed to the edge of the tavern’s parking lot, out of the shelter of the mountain.  Here the wind was intense.  It stung his face and made it seem colder than it was.  The road was deserted except for sheets and swirls of snow dancing here and there.  Two cars were parked at the tavern.  The first car he knew belonged to the tavern owner, Claire.  The other he did not recognize.  It was a station wagon with one set of skis locked on the rack.  They were downhill type skis which were no good around here.  The license plate was from Ohio.  He decided it was a lost tourist.
        Ray stepped out of his skis and stood them on a bike rack, hoping he would remember them.  He was tired and had no desire to fight the six miles to get back up the mountain.  He knew Claire would offer him a ride up, maybe stay a little and talk.  After all, the boss made her own hours and this was the slow time of the slow season anyway.  Plus, with a storm coming, most locals would hunker down and stay put.  There wouldn’t be anyone in her tavern for long in a January snowstorm like this.  Claire was easygoing, comfortable to talk with, and made friends quickly.  They had formed a friendship throughout the winters and summers he spent up on the mountain.  Good buddies would be Ray’s opinion of their relationship if asked.
        In the tavern’s foyer, the smells of stale beer and old, cold cigarette smoke made him shudder involuntarily.  The outside freshness had spoiled him.  He paused to brush snow from himself and looked through the beveled glass door to see the tourist.
        A woman wearing a neon green ski jacket and black pants sat at the bar, her cigarette displayed between the first two fingers of her right hand for all to see, self-consciously, conspicuously.  She sipped at it as if pretending to smoke it.  Her hair was perfect, black, and tumbling in loose curls over the collar of her open jacket, framing her smiling face.
        She exagerrated her hand gestures, but kept her elbows on the bar while she spoke.  He heard her cackle through the door, ingratiating, saccharine, speaking to Claire as if she had known her for years.  Ray was immediately annoyed.  Claire seemed to be genuinely interested in what the outsider was saying.  She smiled her pretty, real smile and answered with a grin.
        As he claimed a stool three down from the outsider, he retrieved a pack of Camel cigarettes from his shirt pocket and extracted the last one.  It was flattened, sweat-stained, and bent.  He lit it with some difficulty.  It made him cough and both Claire and the outsider noticed him for the first time.

        “Nice to see you again Ray,” she greeted him cheerfully.  “Want some lunch?”  She went for the wine carafes to find his favorite burgundy.

        She was a little older than Ray, mid thirties, and was always happy to see him.  She had an easygoing personality and an often used smile that made her face crinkle around the mouth and eyes.  Her short, thick blond hair tossed and shimmered as she worked, never covering her face.  Claire’s face acknowledged him by lighting up as she came to take his order.
        His face lit up in response and felt like it was about to crack from the size of his smile.  

        “Yes to lunch, but no wine!  Just hot, black coffee please!”  

        He coughed into his hand, then took another drag.  

        “Cold out today.  Let me start with a big bowl of barley soup, please Claire.”  

        “Hey, Ray, those Camels’ll kill you someday.”

        “Never!”  He thumped his chest for emphasis and that made him cough once more.

          The woman in green had covertly turned her head to consider his profile.  There was something familiar about him and she was trying to shake that information loose.  Her face had a puzzled look until she heard the cough and Claire saying something about Camel cigarettes.  Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline as her eyes grew to pie plate size.  She could not mistake the profile, the cough or the brand of smokes.

        “Ray?  Ray Amorrosso?  Springfield High School?” she asked as she faced him fully, spinning herself in the stool.  She held on to her smile.

        He knew her then.  It was Elizabeth.  Her voice was roughened by cigarettes, her hair was longer and curlier than he remembered.  But the sight of  those eyebrows climbing to the ceiling left no doubt. It was her.
        Maybe it was a school crush and maybe not; it felt real enough then, through college, and even for the  year or two after graduation until he decided to forget her, to move on after all those years of longing, of following bits of news about her in the newspaper; her engagement;, her appointment to the Ohio State Bar. Years of wondering why she never answered his letter, his plea to stay in touch by mail. They had worked so well and closely in high school. They shared a seat on the bus everyday. He listened, secretly pleased, covertly hopeful, to her misery when her boyfriend dumped her. He listened, obviously devastated but politely, publicly delighted for her when Charlie asked her to the Prom. And everyday since he wanted her perfume to be apart of his life, he missed her so much.
        The look on her face was one of happy recognition followed by mild revulsion, as though she had spotted a bug in her food.  He hadn’t shaved his face or brushed his dark brown hair in two days and she was mercifully too far away to smell him. Even though he had lost weight since she had seen him eight years ago, his face was somewhat puffy, a little fat. The skin was flaking and dry where the thick lenses of his glasses ended. The body under the open jacket was well proportioned. Any flaws were hidden in the bulk of his clothes. He was ruggedly handsome and unsightly.
        Elizabeth had thought of him as a friend of sorts. A lab partner or someone who would share a seat and not bother her. Some one who tolerated her chatter patter.  He seemed so aloof and unreachable that she maintained a comfortable distance in high school and hadn’t thought of him since graduation when he accepted the award for his senior science project.  He wasn’t invited to any of the graduation parties and even if someone had invited him, he would not have gone.  And now, here he was.  There she was. She felt suddenly comfortable and acerbic, ready to launch into            sarcasm.  He was too close to ignore and she felt mean, but she held it back. 

        “Elizabeth!” he said heartily, trying not to slur.  “How have you been?”  

        He remembered all the times he wanted to get closer to her, to be noticed by her, to be liked by her.  And now he wanted her to fall instantly in love with him.  He wanted her to admire him, to be as jealous of his life as he was of hers.  He felt like an ass.  And he tried to hide it.  The alcohol in him chased some of his shyness, but he did not want to lose complete control of himself.
        But then her face lit up in the way that he remembered.  

        “I hardly recognized you, Ray!  You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

        “Well, a little exercise and a little job pressure...you know what that can do.”

        “Oh, right.  You became a..... doctor?  Are your patients living in the wilds of Pennsylvania?”  Savagery appeared in her voice and a mocking smirk flitted across her lips.          

        “No.  I opted for computer science instead.  I’m senior project leader for Union Pacific”, he said hoping she was impressed.  He knew she wasn’t.  “And you’re a lawyer or something?”  

        He knew exactly that she was much more than a lawyer, but those luscious, smirking lips tripped the revenge switch in his head.  He had to give it back to her, subtly of course.

        Elizabeth could do that to him and, more and more often, she tried his enormous patience in that way.  Ray learned to match jabs from her as a matter of survival.
        Elizabeth rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation.  

        “Actually, I’m running for District Attorney of Cleveland.  I was the assistant DA for two years and was asked to run.  Seems that I’m the natural choice.  I’m sure to win too.”

        He downed the last of his coffee and turned to look for Claire.  He wanted lunch and he asked Elizabeth to join him.  She accepted out of pity and boredom.  It seemed she would be stuck here a while even if it quit snowing right now.
        From first bite to last, and there were a lot of bites, her mood lightened, sweetened.  She was here because she settled the estate of her husband’s uncle as a family favor.  But her plans for skiing this weekend were destroyed when she turned left instead of right forty miles back.  Hopelessly lost, she found Claire’s tavern and took a much needed break.  Driving was, at its best, dangerous.
        They talked of mutual friends, politics, politicians in general, and her husband.  She made it clear to Ray that she was married and happily so, as if she needed to convince herself, too.  She displayed her wedding ring as prominently as her cigarette.  And whenever he invited a comment, she replied with sympathy or changed the subject as though she were talking to her two sons.  She looked into his brown eyes and knew that she could not deliberately hurt him or encourage him.  She wanted little more than an afternoon’s entertainment and directions out of this empty, deserted corner of the planet.
        He lit her cigarettes for her, laughed at all of her jokes without patronizing or fawning because he genuinely enjoyed them, and, by the end of their meal together, invited her skiing for the afternoon.

        “If you’ve never been cross-country skiing, this is your chance.  These trails are a lot less crowded than any of the resorts.  You’ll relax and work up a real appetite.”  

        He sipped his wine and smiled involuntarily to himself.  He hoped she would say yes.  One afternoon with her, a few more hours, was all he wanted.  It would last him all his life.

        “But, really, I’m too tired to ski back uphill to my cabin.  I need a ride.  That’s my ulterior motive.”  He smiled that smirking grin she remembered from high school.

        She agreed, and to the skiing too.  It sounded exciting and would salvage a large part of her ruined plans.  He would provide the equipment and then, after an hour or two of skiing, she could get a shower and dinner before driving on.
        
        As soon as they stepped outside, Elizabeth said, “Wait, I forgot my lighter on the bar.  I’ll be right back.”  
        
        He took her keys and started the car, then brushed off the fresh covering of snow.  He struggled to fit his gear to her rack and she returned just as he finished.  Her face was darker, and he suddenly felt as if he were invading her privacy.  He could feel her anger and did not want to ask her what had changed.  Anger made Ray uncomfortable and he was especially sensitive to Elizabeth’s feelings in that area. He decided that her conversation in there was not pleasant.
        She climbed in the driver’s side as he hurried to brush more snow from the back window.
        
        Ray climbed in beside her and said “Turn left out of the lot, then right at the first road.”

       There was enough fresh snow for traction and good control, but too much for fast progress.  They talked, reminiscing about high school classes and teachers as they slowly climbed the mountain.  She concentrated on her driving, hardly glancing at him, but he could see that her previous mood was fading.  When they finally arrived at Ray’s cabin, she was teasing him and making him laugh uncontrollably.
        His cabin was exactly as she expected.  Slightly weather-beaten, gray painted clapboards appeared to grow out of a large screened porch.  Moss covered shingles blanketed the roof.  The surrounding trees dwarfed the structure and seemed to protect it.  The grayness of the paint matched the gray sky and made everything blend together.  The soft light made no shadows and the cabin was softened by the falling snow.
        She noticed the smaller building, painted as gray as the cabin and the sky, off to one side of the clearing and was curious about its function.

        “A WHAT?” , incredulous, somewhat fearful.  “Do you mean to tell me that this place has NO running water, NO toilet, and NO SHOWER?”  

        The image of an archeological dig, layers of dirt thousands of years old, the floors and walls littered with the bones of animals, sprang into her mind.  There had to be a jungle smell of decay and putrefaction inside.  She did not see herself remaining more than ten minutes, and wanted to stay no longer than ten seconds.

          “I really can’t stay.  There is a big meeting for my candidacy on Monday and with this weather, I should be moving on anyway.”  

        “Well, alright.  But at least wait a bit so I can pack up and lead you down to the road.”  

        Ray’s mind rejected several plans to keep her there, to delay her departure.  There was rope and a stake inside that he could fasten to the wall and that would hold her. Or there was that loose floorboard that could make her trip and break her leg in the bedroom. He wanted Elizabeth with him as long as possible because he knew that once the day ended, he would never see her again.  Instead of the two of them making their own little world for an afternoon, she would be gone.  He would be alone, just like 14 years ago.

        “Well, then, could you help me get my stuff out?  It’ll go faster that way.”  

        She was determined to get out as fast as possible but she agreed to help him pack.  She needed his guidance to get off the mountain and the sooner he was ready, the better.

        The interior surprised her.  There was some clutter and it smelled like men and wood smoke and cigars, but no layers of dirt or dust haunted the cabin.  Even the windows were perfectly transparent.  Elizabeth reconsidered.  She sat down and Ray knew she was company for the rest of the day.

        “You know what? It is snowing pretty hard and I deserve some off time anyway,” she said. “No need to rush.”

         He grinned to himself.  

        “There is some running water”, Ray said proudly, noting her obvious surprise and speck of approval.  “Enough to take a hot shower once I get the stoves lit again.  It’ll only be a minute or two.”

        He set to work loading wood into the stoves and lighting them.  Now that he knew they would be here for more than a few minutes, he wanted to make the cabin cozy.  Once he was satisfied with the fires, he carried in snow to top off the melt tank.  He busied himself with the stoves, seeing to it that they were blazing hot.
        The longer she looked at the simple furnishings and the wind whipped snow, the longer she wanted to stay.  Both stoves heated the two rooms to a rather comfortable temperature and that was incentive enough for her to stay put.  Added to that, her belly was full of  food and wine.  Life could not get much better than this.  And it was so warm and isolated and secure.

        “You know what? I don’t want to rush back.  It would be dangerous driving in this weather and it looks like it might clear a little later on.”

        Although Ray’s back was turned, she heard his massive grin. 

        “Perfect time to go skiiing!  You’ll love it!”

        Elizabeth found a comfortable seat and stared out at the driving snow.  She began sliding off into sleep, a pleasant, warm dreamy sleep while Ray hurriedly tidied himself.  A little smile played on her lips as her eyes refused to stay open for longer than a few seconds.
        Ray’s voice found its way into her brain, offering to fit her with skis and slowly, with a massive effort, she rose from the chair.  She smiled at Ray in a way that he did not understand as he struggled to inventory the poles, boots, and skis stored in the closet.

        “Do these belong to your Mother?” she asked when he finally found boots to fit her.  “Is that why you keep them here?”  

        She was teasing him and did not sense his discomfort.  The equipment was Janet’s, of course, and he had conveniently forgotten to mention her at all during the afternoon as well as their upcoming wedding.

        “No, actually, they belong to someone my friend Dave knows.  She was supposed to come by for some skiing but she never showed.  It’s your gain.”

        Dave had introduced Ray to Janet, so his statement was not an absolute lie.  She taught the other sixth grade section at their school and was hired three years ago, right out of college.  Dave became her mentor that first year and while he found her attractive, she was no more than a friend to him.
        The boots fit well enough.  Elizabeth began bundling up with scarves and layers of clothing.  Ray adjusted her equipment before then warned her about being too warm and sweating. 

        “You could freeze to death if you sweat and get trapped out there.”

        Fear filled her eyes. “We aren’t going to get trapped are we?”

        “Certainly not.  But you will get uncomfortable anyway if your clothes get wet.”

        “You have a shower here, and I have fresh clothes over there. It should work.”

( to be continued )

© Copyright reserved
No part(s) of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or translated into any language in any form by any means without the written permission of the author.

BACK TO STORIES

Page backgrounds © Lonely Shell