“What are you doing with that butter?”
“Putting it in the freezer like I always do.”
“But don’t put it in like that. Take it out of the box first.”
“What does it matter?”
“Because when I go to get it I want to be able to grab one stick at a time, that’s why.”
“Why can’t you separate it then?”
“Because I’m a busy lady, that’s why. Just do what I say.”
Luis swatted Martha on the butt. Eric crossed his eyes at me and smiled. I smiled back.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” I asked.
“No, no, this is Luis’s favorite thing to do. Right, Luis?” said Martha.
“Sure,” he said and then when she turned around, he pretended to choke himself. I giggled. When they were done putting everything away, Eric filled a small bag with almonds and raisins for us. Then he took out some scraps of bacon from the top of the garbage and put them in a bag, too.
“You like bacon, right?” he said to me.
“Ummm …”
“Just kidding. It’s for Fozzie, in case he gets too hungry,” he explained.
“Now, be careful out there. It’s coming down pretty thick,” warned Martha as we put on our coats and boots.
“Thanks, Martha. We won’t melt,” Eric said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “C’mon, boy!” he called, and then the three of us headed out the back door, with Fozzie leading the way.
The air felt crisp and alive with thick, fluffy flakes. We walked down the sloping backyard and then up over a slight hill. Fozzie was definitely in charge, racing around us, stopping to sniff through the snow and then doubling back, panting with excitement. Just over the hill we came to a small creek.
“Are you okay with this?” asked Eric, looking back at me as he stepped onto a smooth, flat rock.
“Sure,” I said, following him carefully.
On the other side of the creek, we went up a small bank that led into a big field. Eric explained that this was part of the Gallaghers’ farm. They grew corn and wheat in the summer and pumpkins in the fall. They also kept two horses, three pigs, a cow, and a family of chickens. The animals were all in the barn now, but when it was warmer out, Eric liked to come over and feed them leftover bread and carrots at night. The Gallaghers knew he came by. They always left the outside light on for him. We walked through the field and past the farmhouse, which looked like a small saltbox with wooden shingles and a bright red front door. Then Eric showed me how to squirm under a couple of loose boards in the fence. Fozzie knew the drill already, of course. Then up around another small hill.
The whole time, the snow was coming down in fat, downy flakes. But I barely noticed. I was too busy taking in the amazing views, the cold air. And of course, I was talking. It was really easy to talk to Eric about anything and everything. It felt effortless. He asked me about where I grew up in New York. I told him about life in the suburbs. How I went to public school, but still felt pretty sheltered, like everybody was kind of from the same social stratum. We all wound up wearing the same clothes, listening to the same music. Eric said he knew what that was like, living in West Lake for most of his life. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, but he was going to be a senior next year and he was looking to go away for art school after that. We talked about our favorite musicians, our favorite authors. He was a big fan of Thoreau. I admitted I’d never read him before. Sometimes we walked for a really long time not saying anything at all, and that was easy, too.
And then, I don’t know what made me do it, but at one point I just came out and said, “So what are these mom issues you have? I mean, is that okay if I ask?”
“Um …” his voice faded.
“No, never mind. That was nosy of me,” I said.
“No. Hey, I’ve done my share of nosing around your life.”
And then I heard him give a small sigh.
“Actually, well … my mom died two years ago. In a drunk-driving accident.”
I felt my breath stop. My throat tightened. I wanted to disappear.
“I’m so sorry,” I finally managed to say.
“That’s okay,” he said.
There was another long silence then, but this one didn’t feel so great. My heart was pumping double time. I wanted somehow to make this moment okay.
“I told you sooner or later you’d want me to shut up.” My voice sounded small and weak now.
But Eric stopped walking and turned toward me. I stopped, too. His eyes were soft and almost smiling, and he took my mittened hand in his.
“Seriously, Sam, it’s okay,” he said. “I wanted to tell you. I think that’s why I reacted so strongly to you and your … stepmom.”
“Yeah, I guess that seems pretty silly, when you think about … I’m sorry.”
“No, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. Please.” Eric held my arm, and I could feel his eyes without looking at him. “And if I wanted to, I could’ve easily lied. But I wanted to tell you, because … I don’t know. I felt like you’d get it.”
“I do. I think,” I said.
Then we came to a dense clump of trees. Eric ducked his head under a branch and went in, with me right behind. The trees were so tightly woven overhead that there was barely any snow on the ground in here. Just a bed of pine needles that crackled and crunched under our feet. Eric stopped and looked up.
“This is my favorite spot. There’s a quiet out here that I can’t find anywhere else.”
He put his hands on my shoulders and led me into the center of the patch. Then he came around and faced me again, this time lifting his head up to the sky, his eyes closed. I did the same. He was right. There was an incredible hush all around us, like the whole world stopped within these trees. It felt like I could hear each snowflake landing and gently melting. Like I could hear to the other end of the world, but was protected from it all in this peaceful cocoon.
Eric took in a deep breath. And then I pictured him standing there in front of me, his eyes closed, too. And now I could hear my heart pounding, pounding.
Levy! What was that about?
I wondered if Eric could hear it, too. I opened my eyes. He was still standing there, only now he was looking right at me, his eyes the most spectacular, earthy green. Completely open and so honest that I had to look away into the trees.
“Wow,” I whispered. “Do you come here a lot?”
Ugh, Levy! Really smooth. But at least I hadn’t said, “What’s your sign?”
“As often as I can,” he said.
“By yourself?”
“Well, Fozzie.”
“Have you ever slept out here?”
“Yeah, once or twice.”
“By yourself?”
“Sure.”
He started laughing softly.
“Sam?” he said.
“Yeah?” I looked back over at him. He was smiling.
“Never mind,” he said. “You okay to go a little farther?”
“I think so.”
We came out of the trees and followed a path through a narrow opening between two big boulders. The land unfolded in front of us in glittering white hills. It was hard to tell where the mountains ended and the sky began. We kept on walking, the snow swirling all around us.
“Look at that!” Eric whispered as we came near another bunch of trees, putting his arm out to stop me. There was a deer hiding behind one of the pine trunks, every muscle in her body still except for her tail flicking wildly. She was the most beautiful shade of chestnut, with long, sculpted legs. I felt like I could see every muscle in her body even as she stood there. Then her head moved sharply, like she heard something in the wind, and she galloped off.
We continued on. We walked for miles, I’m sure of it. And I could’ve kept on going miles more. Eric stopped when we got to a ledge overlooking a small valley.
“Come here. Get a good look,” he said. I stepped forward slowly.