Steady as the Snow Falls

by Lindy Zart

  Beth gasped, feeling the blade of his words deep in her being. Entitled Ozzy. Always the victim Ozzy. Manipulating Ozzy. He gathered guilt in a basket of righteousness, distributing it as he saw fit, but never to himself.

  “This isn’t about you,” she hissed, holding a hand to her heart, as if she could shield it from his words.

  “No. You’re right.” He nodded. “This isn’t about me. This is about you deciding to ruin everything we’ve ever been to one another by choosing to be with some guy who probably has less than five years to live, instead of choosing to be with me, someone you grew up with, someone you’ve known your whole life. You just tossed me aside for Harrison Caldwell.” He said the name like it was bitter, and filled his mouth with sourness.

  “We were over before I ever knew Harrison!” Madness shouted through her words, shouted that she was falling, and she didn’t know how to stop. Beth was falling into the darkness, and she wasn’t sure if she could survive. She didn’t know if she cared.

  They had to be making a scene. There had to be neighbors listening, watching. Spying. Let them. Let all the world see the moment Beth Lambert fractured. It was overdue.

  “No, we weren’t!” Ozzy slammed a hand to the side of the house, causing her to jump. He looked at her over his hunched shoulder, more animal than man. His eyes glowed in the partial dark. “We weren’t over yet. I could have gotten you back. We could have worked things out. We always did. We could have again.”

  He straightened, ran a shaking hand through his unruly hair. “What is it? Is it his money? Is that what’s keeping you with him?”

  She laughed. It was harsh, and giddy. It was the kind of laughter no one hoped to hear, because it rang with the promise of a meltdown.

  “It was a mistake to come here. I can’t talk to you. It’s like talking to a wall.” Beth swung away, marching toward the Blazer on legs stiffened by cold.

  “Because you know I’m right.”

  Wrath tightened her hands into fists, and she spun around. She could feel the imprint of her own hands on her throat, squeezing, choking. “I can’t talk to you, because all I can think about is how pointless everything is that comes out of your mouth. There is a man, a good man, a man who doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him, alone, in a house, with—with no one, no one but—”

  Beth broke off, her throat scraped raw by invisible blades. “This was our first day out, as a couple, and it blew up. It was perfect, and then it was ugly. Because of your vindictiveness. Because you can’t see past yourself. You can’t understand, not any of it. How I feel…how he feels. I’m trying to let him know it’s okay to dream, to smile, to think beyond what he knows.”

  She went quiet, staring at the sidewalk streaked with snow.

  “I knew it wouldn’t last, this box he shoved himself inside of. He knew too. I know he did. But…we weren’t ready. He wasn’t ready. I’ll never be ready.” Her thoughts changed, went from Harrison’s life being altered to the possibility of it being erased. “He might…he might just be gone one day. How does that happen?” Beth’s voice ended on a whisper, so quiet it was shrill, piercing her eardrums and reverberating through her body.

  She sank to her knees on the pavement, the ice and snow numbing her knees and legs, and she bent her head. Beth inhaled slowly, fighting tears. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of Ozzy. The only thing that registered was how much it hurt. It felt like every part of her was torn apart. Waves and waves of agony swept through her, closed her throat, burned her eyes and mouth.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice broke through the grief, his hand heavy and warm on her shoulder.

  Beth scrambled away from his touch, stumbling to her feet and closer to the Blazer. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Beth. I’m sorry.” Ozzy’s eyes were entreating, and he almost seemed genuine.

  “You’re not sorry,” she denied, shaking her head. “You’re never sorry for anyone but yourself.”

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting like you are. I mean that.” Ozzy pulled in a breath. “I didn’t know.” He stepped closer, his face broken up in pieces of emotion. Some she understood, others she never would.

  “Didn’t know what?” she demanded in an unsteady voice. Beth wanted to shrink away from him, but instead she went motionless, waited until he stopped walking to breathe.

  “I didn’t know you loved him.”

  Beth lifted her head.

  “You know I didn’t mean it.” Night covered him as wholly as it covered her. “That night…I was messed up. When I…when I hurt you. I’m messed up, Beth. This whole thing has got me crazy. I just…when you told me you were leaving, I felt like I was trapped inside of a nightmare, and I haven’t stopped feeling that way since. I don’t know how to deal with you not being in my life.” His jaw jutted forward, a scowl taking over his expression to hide what he didn’t want her to see. His shoulders shot up, as if to deflect whatever words she was about to say.

  Beth said nothing.

  Ozzy shifted his jaw back and forth, looking like the words he was about to say were ones he’d rather not. “I could have made different choices, better ones. I could have thought about you more and me less. I should have loved you like you deserved. I know you don’t believe me, and you probably won’t forgive me, but I am sorry.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter, shaking his head. “I wasn’t thinking when I contacted the news. I saw you together, and you looked so happy, and I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to hurt you, and I knew hurting him would do it. I am sorry. I’m a million times sorry. I thought I would feel better, seeing you like this, but all I feel is sick.”

  Her head pounded along with her heartbeat, and as she met Ozzy’s unwavering gaze, she felt profound relief. It coursed through her veins with the power of a wave, cleaning away the dirt. Eradicating the black taint of their association. They could both start fresh, without the other to poison them with the past. Alone, as if strangers. They would be strangers.

  “I have to go.” Beth paused as she got to the Blazer. She looked up, met the eyes of the man who had once been everything to her, and she felt him drift away. Ozzy let her go, in that instant. She couldn’t tell him it was okay, because it wasn’t. She couldn’t tell him she forgave him, because she didn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  They stared at each other, looking at ghosts from another time, a different set of people. Words seemed irrelevant, but so did the silence. He watched her, his eyes drifting over her features like he was saying a final, quiet farewell. They would see each around town. They might even talk once in a while. But Ozzy and Beth as a couple were done. They would not be again. Her heart was no longer his to bruise, to pick up only to put down.

  She swallowed, opened her mouth, lingering and not sure why.

  “Don’t say anything else.” A sheen of dampness covered his golden eyes, made them shine like broken gold. He swallowed and looked down. “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. Be happy, Beth.”

  Friends, lovers, enemies, and now, nothing. It was funny how one person could be so many different things to another. Funnier still how they could go from everything to nothing. Her thoughts turned to Harrison as she left Ozzy’s. And they could go from nothing to everything too.

  THIRTEEN

  THERE WAS A small support group waiting on Beth’s lawn as she parked the Blazer near the curb. Her eyes swept over the trio huddled under the glow of the Christmas lights, looking for a fourth person who was not there. She turned the key, and the engine went quiet. Beth inhaled a breath of calm, told herself to bottle it. Her mom reached her before she fully got out of the vehicle, pulling her out and into a hug. A layer of icicles covering Beth’s skin melted in her mom’s arms.

  “Well,” she said as she straightened, staring into her daughter’s eyes. “That explains a lot of things.”

  Beth wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry. She was grateful for her mom’s undisputed acceptance. Even though the day was a mess, in a way, she was glad. The t
ruth was out, and the relief of it made her legs weak. No more secrets, no more hiding. She hoped once Harrison had a chance to think things through, he would agree.

  “Harrison Caldwell,” her dad said, awe deepening his voice. Gray-haired and short, Glen Lambert was a soft-spoken man who loved all sports and his family—possibly in that order.

  He drew Beth into an absent hug, bringing the scent of his peppery cologne with him as he placed a kiss on her forehead and patted her back. Not much taller than Beth, he craned his neck back to meet her eyes. “You know he used to play football, right?”

  She laughed softly, meeting Jennifer’s eyes over her dad’s shoulder. Jennifer looked ready to burst with whatever she was keeping inside. “Yes. I am aware.”

  “My daughter’s dating Harrison Caldwell. And he lives here. Here, in Crystal Lake, Minnesota.” Her dad looked shell-shocked that she not only knew who Harrison Caldwell was, but that she knew him. He shook his head and stepped away. “This is amazing,” he said to himself.

  “It’s a little more than that, Glen,” his wife told him, motioning toward the house. “Can we go inside before my fingers decide I don’t need them anymore and decide to freeze right off?”

  Beth’s eyes stung. Not a single word from either of her parents about the disease running rampant through Harrison’s body. Not a single look, pitying or otherwise, to give Beth any reason to think they saw him as anything other than a man their daughter had chosen to be with.

  “I brought pizzas.” Jennifer nodded to the garage door where two frozen pizzas sat on the ground beside it. “Do you want to get the oven preheated, Sandy? We’ll be right in.”

  Her mom nodded, and with her husband’s arm in one hand and the pizzas in the other, she waited until Beth unlocked the door to sweep inside, firmly shutting it behind them after telling them to not stay out in the cold too long.

  Beth jiggled her keys, pocketed them, and looked at her friend. Jennifer’s blonde hair glowed in the dark, her eyes large and sparkling as they met Beth’s. Jennifer embraced Beth hard, squeezing all of her love for Beth into the hug. Beth returned it, glad she had such good people in her life.

  “I just want to know one thing,” Jennifer began as she let go, sweeping wayward strands of jagged hair from her eyes.

  She felt her lips curve. “What’s that?”

  “He has huge hands and feet.” She paused, locking Beth in place with her gaze. “Huge.”

  Beth laughed. “Yes. He does. What did you want to know?”

  Jennifer’s eyes danced. “That was it. I just needed verbal confirmation.”

  “Pervert,” she teased.

  Her friend shrugged. “I need to know everything, but when you’re ready. Not now, but soon. Very soon.”

  She smiled faintly and looked at the dark house across the street, crossing her arms and shuffling her feet to keep warm. Patricia Mumm, a retired piano teacher, lived there. She went to bed as the sun went down, and she got out of bed as it came up. Never seeing the moon, never knowing the wonder of the night.

  Beth let her head fall back, stared at the circular nightlight in the sky. It was full, whitish yellow, so big, so far away. She used to tell her dreams to the moon. She’d never known this dream, the one that involved Harrison, and it was one of the most cherished. Life never went as she planned, but Beth had to appreciate that right now. If it had, she’d be a different person, living a different life, and not the one she should be. She would be like her neighbor, stuck inside a dark house with dreamless, moonless sleep.

  “You love him.”

  Beth glanced at Jennifer, caught the knowing look. “I love him,” she agreed.

  “That’s all that matters, Beth. This is a fucked up world. If you can find someone good to love, and they love you back, fuck everything else. Love them, let them love you.”

  Neither spoke for a time, letting the night wrap around them and their thoughts.

  She took a breath into her lungs, slowly let it out. “Have you ever felt something, and you couldn’t really explain how it happened or why, but it just felt so right?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “That’s how I feel when I’m with Harrison. Everything makes sense when I’m around him, even the things I don’t understand.”

  Jennifer kicked a patch of snow, bouncing on the heels of her snow boots. “Then why aren’t you with him now?”

  Beth blinked her eyes, a vague ache throbbing through her heart. “He left. He said he would be back.”

  She set her arm around Beth’s shoulders and turned them toward the door. “Then he will be. Can we go inside now? My nose is numb.”

  Beth wasn’t aware of how cold she was until she stepped into the warmth of the house and her skin began to thaw. She wiggled her frozen toes and rubbed her icicle hands on her jeans. The low hum of the television reached her ears and she spied her dad reclined in an overstuffed chair across the living room. The herb and garlic scent of melted cheese and red sauce hit her senses and Beth’s stomach growled with hunger.

  Her phone vibrated, and Beth fumbled in her coat pocket for it, anxious to see if it was Harrison. Her shoulders slumped as she read the name and number. It was her brother Jake. “Hey, Jake.”

  “Hey, you. I didn’t realize my sister was famous.”

  Beth cringed and hung up her jacket. She walked into the kitchen where Jennifer and her mom were getting out plates and glasses. “She’s not. Unless you count possible infamy.”

  “Close enough. How are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” she told him, sitting down at the table. Beth immediately stood, needing movement. She walked the length of the kitchen, turned, and walked back.

  “Okay. Good.” Relief could be heard in his voice. “So…you think Harrison would ever want to throw a football around with me?”

  Beth smiled as she heard Jake’s wife scold him in the background.

  “I mean…never mind. Sorry. You’re tough. Hang in there. See you at Christmas.”

  They said goodbye, her phone alerting her to another incoming call.

  Benny didn’t give her a chance to say hello. “You picked a motherlode of a secret to harbor, didn’t you?”

  Beth laughed quietly and pushed hair behind her ears. Jennifer offered a plate with pizza on it, and she shook her head, turning from her friend’s narrow-eyed look. “You could say that.”

  “You know what is important? If you’re happy. Are you happy?”

  “I’m happy,” she said, her words clear and steady. Beth looked up and found her mom’s eyes on her. Her eyes softened, and she turned back to the stove where she was dishing pizza onto plates.

  “Turn on the news.”

  “What?” Beth frowned, her eyes shooting to the living room.

  “Turn on the news,” Benny repeated. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “What was that all about?” her mom asked, walking toward the living room with a plate of pizza in each hand.

  “Benny said to turn on the news,” she told her, following with her pulse sprinting ahead of her.

  “Glen.”

  “It’s already on,” he replied.

  An image of Harrison was on the screen, determined stiffness to his jaw, eyes of impenetrable black aimed at the monitor. Beth recognized the pretty green siding of his house behind him. He looked powerful, invincible. An invisible breeze fluttered the longer locks of his hair and her fingers itched to smooth it from his face. She sank to the couch when her legs refused to hold her up any longer.

  There were lights on him, but she could tell it wasn’t full dark out, and she wondered if he’d had the press conference immediately after dropping her off. Was that the exchange he made earlier in Logansville? For them to give him time to get her home before agreeing to speak with them? Her heart squeezed.

  The living room was quiet, filled with the sight of Harrison, and when he spoke, his voice was the only one permitted. Though harsh with discontent, the warmth of his timbre washed ove
r her, made her scalp tingle. Jennifer grabbed Beth’s clammy hand in hers and held it.

  “To be quite frank, in instances like this, I view the media as savages.” A titter of nervous laughter followed that. Harrison’s hard face remained so, his eyes trained forward. Anyone who looked at his face knew he wasn’t joking. “Because of my career, I realize the media feels as if I should expect to be in the spotlight, that it’s part of the job, in a sense.”

  His jaw tightened. “Let me be clear about one thing: I don’t owe anyone anything. I realized that soon after I was diagnosed with HIV. What I do in my personal life is my business, no one else’s.”

  Harrison inhaled, his chest compressing and releasing as he let out the air. “But it’s also wrong of me to hide away like I am ashamed of myself. I’m not.” He stood taller, as if only now realizing he believed his words.

  “Which is why I’ve decided to turn this affliction into something positive. Being ill sucks.” The outline of a smile appeared. Uncomfortable laughter sounded, like people weren’t sure if they should laugh or not. “But living shouldn’t. In the near future, I’d like to talk to communities about necessary precautionary actions they can take to lessen the chances of contracting and spreading HIV, help others struggling with the illness. I’d like to be a mentor to those who need one. But my personal life, and those within it, are to be left alone.”

  He paused, his eyes narrowing like he might say more, and then he nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

  The screen went to a reporter. Beth stared at the television monitor, seeing blurry faces and hearing muted voices. Harrison’s speech was less than two minutes in length. One hundred twenty seconds of words that took him from a statistic and spun him into a voice, a hero. Harrison ruled the screen, and seeing that, Beth knew he would excel at being a spokesperson of HIV and how to prevent contracting it, and also on how to live with it. Not die. Live.

  Beth’s body hummed with pride.