A Springful of Winters

by Dawn Sister

  “What?” I snap, sounding rather ungracious. He looks taken aback, and I shake my head. “No, no, I mean, sorry. You startled me. Did you forget something?”

  “Y-yes, I forgot to give you my number.”

  “Oh.” I sigh. Thank goodness it’s something I can help him with rather than him asking me something I won’t be able to answer. “Here, I have some paper.”

  “I could just put it in your phone,” he suggests.

  “No, I need it written down. I won’t remember if it’s put straight into my phone, but if you write it in my contingency—er, I mean my notebook, then I’ll remember I have to call you.”

  “Okay.” He takes my contingency plan notebook from me, and too late I realise the title of this particular notebook is fully on display.

  –Contingency plans for meeting people and making friends–

  “Oh god.” I pull it back and fold the front cover back so he can’t see. “Sorry.” I hope he didn’t read it. His expression is indecipherable as he writes his number and his name on the blank page I present to him.

  As he hands it back to me, he smiles, and his hand brushes mine, not softly, because that would make me jump. The touch is firm, and I realise he is closing his fingers around my hand to hold it.

  “Call me—I mean, text me, please?” He meets my gaze and holds it.

  I can’t reply because it’s all too much: his eyes, his hand on mine, the strange fluttering sensation in my stomach. It’s sensory overload. I nod, swallowing hard and sweating with the effort to not do anything that might make me look odd. He gives my hand a firm squeeze before letting it go and running out of the shop.

  Chapter Four

  Jogging Accidents Need First-Aiders

  or

  Bessie Likes Fishing for Phones

  “So, Stephan seems like a nice young man.” Yenta is trying to get me to talk about him. I know this only because she hasn’t been very subtle about it at all.

  She’s already asked me sixteen direct questions relating to what Stephan and I talked about after The Library Fiasco two days ago. I know for a fact she was listening at the curtain and heard every word, so I haven’t told her anything she doesn’t already know.

  “So, are you going to call him?” she asks.

  “I told you, I need to think about it,” I tell her, not turning around as I place a book up on a high shelf.

  “Yes, well, don’t think too long, Lapushka.” She huffs as she ticks off items on an invoice whilst unpacking our latest delivery.

  “He said I could take all the time I needed.” I climb down from the ladder and stand in front of her.

  “People say that, yes.” She regards me over the top of her tiny glasses. “But what they actually mean is they would like you to call them at least the next day.”

  “I texted him as soon as he left the shop.”

  “A text to tell him you have his number, something he already knew, does not count.” She picks up a pile of books and hands them to me.

  “Then someone’s rewriting the rules.” I scowl, balancing the books on both arms and huffing and puffing as I take them to the next shelf along, moving the wheeled stepladder with my foot. “Why didn’t he tell me how long he was willing to wait?”

  “Because to him, that would have seemed like he was pushing you, and some people, they don’t like to be pushy.” Yenta shrugs. “He wants you to make the decision by yourself.”

  “Yes, and I will. And if he isn’t willing to wait however long it takes me, then he isn’t the one for me. And if he had a deadline in mind, then he should have said so.”

  Yenta comes to stand below the ladder as I climb it.

  “Not everyone understands how your brain works, Lapushka.”

  “Huh, tell me about it.” I read the title of the first book on my pile and place it in the correct spot on the shelf. I wave the next one at Yenta. “Sometimes I wish I could just write a manual and get everyone to read it. Like this Haynes manual except for me instead of a car.”

  “I would help you.” She nods, strands of her grey hair falling across her face. “And I would buy ten copies, then I would translate it into Russian and German.”

  I laugh. “Of course you would, and you would hand out copies to everyone that passed by the shop and I wouldn’t make any money from it.”

  “Would making money be your first priority, Lapushka? Really?”

  “No.” I watch her as she bends over the box of newly delivered books. “Having people understand me, and therefore, by happy chance, understand everyone else like me, that would be my goal.”

  “There is no one in the world like you, Kit. You are unique.” Yenta directs her gaze at me, and for once I don’t look away. I just roll my eyes.

  “You know what I mean,” I tell her, and she grins.

  “Yes, yes, I do.” She heaves a sigh, as if she is thinking some heavy thoughts. “Are you going to tell Stephan?”

  I blow out my cheeks and watch her via her reflection in the window as I think.

  “I know I should,” I muse. “I mean, it would make things easier, for him, to understand I mean, but it always seems like I’m making a confession, and I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t want him to think he has to do anything differently, but at the same time, I need him to understand that he might have to, you know, do some things differently. He probably does need to know that I’m a bit of an oddbod who occasionally goes off the rails quite spectacularly.”

  “You are not an oddbod. and you do not go ‘off the rails’. You just get upset if something goes wrong with your contingency plans.”

  “Yes, yes, I know that, and you know that, but no one else does. Some people are just not willing to adjust the way they do things to accommodate. And it’s not as if I’m asking for any special treatment, because I’m not. I just need more time to do some things.”

  “Stephan seemed to know that you needed to start over again, and he didn’t mind.”

  For once, I can read her unsaid words as if I’m reading a book. “Yes, yes, I’ll text him today after work. That doesn’t mean that I’ll be going on a date with him. People don’t usually think a fast food outlet is the most appropriate setting for a first date.”

  “Tsh,” Yenta hisses. “You do eat other foods, Lapushka.”

  “I know, I know, just not at restaurants. Too many people, too many smells.”

  “Maybe he will suggest something different.”

  “He said it was my choice, though.”

  “Yes, but perhaps he has made a contingency plan of his own.”

  “Why would he even do that?”

  “Because he likes you? Perhaps you did not notice, but I saw the way he smiled at you, Lapushka. As if you were the world.”

  “As if I was the what? That’s just nonsense, Yenta. Almost as nonsense as some of the stories in these books.” I wave a hand in a wide arc to incorporate all of the romance section.

  Yenta narrows her eyes and leans forward, poking a bony index finger at me. “The same nonsense that I see you reading every day, Lapushka, so don’t pretend you don’t know anything about romance.”

  “I read it. Doesn’t mean I understand it,” I mutter, feeling petulant that she’s called me out on my ‘nonsense’. “It’s time for me to walk Bessie. Do you want me to get you anything on the way home?”

  “No, no. You go. I will shut the shop and see you tomorrow, Lapushka. Have a nice evening.”

  A nice evening. It’s spent all day snowing again. I can’t believe we’ve just got rid of one lot of snow then another lot comes along. A springful of winters, was the way Stephan described it. And when I pointed out that ‘springful’ was not a real word, he laughed, but not in an unkind way. It was different, but not in a way I can describe yet.

  I need more time to think. Yenta is right, though, I shouldn’t keep him waiting. I want to call him, but I have trouble understanding when it’s my turn to speak when I’m talking to someone face-to-face. I have absolu
tely no hope when it’s just a voice on the other end of a phone connection.

  I worry at my lip ring as Bessie and I walk towards the woodland track. It has been an entire week since Bessiegate. I have set routes that I walk with her. I would take her the same way every day, but Yenta says Bessie might get bored, so I have several routes in my dog-walking contingency plan. Today it is woodland day. Tomorrow we will go to the park.

  The woodland track is slushy in some places and frozen in others. I don’t like the disruption of snow when it’s supposed to be springtime, but I still quite enjoy the phenomenon. I like the sound of ice cracking beneath my boots, and the way everything is muffled and echoey at the same time.

  I like the feel of the cold on my cheeks, and when my ears get cold, I press my fingernails against them because it feels cool and soothing.

  No one else understands why I do things like that. Stephan isn’t going to either, yet…

  The world, Yenta said.

  The part of my brain that interprets everything literally wants to scream out that I look nothing like the world. The other part, the part that enjoys reading romance novels and dreaming of happy endings wants to curl up in his lap and let him shower me with silly metaphors like that, forever.

  I should just call him. Right now. Without thinking about it. I mean, without thinking about it any more, because I have done nothing but think about what he asked for two whole days. I have already come up with a plan that may be acceptable to him as well as me. I don’t like eating out, but I can cook. I don’t like going to new places, but he already knows where I live. My plan is to ask him to my flat so I can make pizza. I haven’t talked it over with Yenta yet, but it could work, couldn’t it?

  Okay, I need to stop and act before I overthink the whole thing.

  I get out my phone, in the middle of the wood as Bessie runs back and forth across the path in search of whatever scent she can pick up. She’s happy for a little bit while I stay in one place to use the phone.

  You should never walk and talk on the phone, it’s dangerous. Driving and talking on the phone is dangerous too. I always get funny looks for pointing this out, but people need to know how dangerous it is. I’m doing them a favour. They shouldn’t be so bloody annoyed about it. They should thank me for trying to help.

  I saved Stephan’s number as soon as he gave it to me. I don’t know his last name, though, and when you save a phone number there’s a space for a last name. I don’t like to leave blanks, so I put his last name as ‘Spring’. I find that funny, since my last name is Winters and if his was really Spring, we would kind of go together. We did meet in the snow, he was a bit of warm sunshine on that icy cold, embarrassing day. I suppose he’d rather forget the entire incident. I would too, except I’d have to forget the first time I saw his beautiful, spring morning eyes.

  Oh, well. I sort out in my head what I’m going to say. I quickly jotted down some notes before I came out. I hold my phone in one hand and the notes in the other, including a list of possible replies he might make. Here goes. I press connect.

  “Er, hello?” he answers on the first ring.

  “Hello, Stephan? This is Kit Winters. I don’t know if you remember—”

  “Oh god, yes, yes, I remember.” He sounds out of breath. “How could I forget? Kit, hello.”

  “Erm, oh, Hello. Stephan. You said I should think about where I’d like to go and eat, and I’ve thought about it. I hope I haven’t taken too long. I mean, I hope you haven’t decided to do something else instead… What I’m saying is, yes, I’d like to go on a date with you… Hello?”

  There’s a sort of crashing sound and a shout. I wonder what I’ve interrupted. I listen for a moment. Is he still there? I’m about to ask when he speaks again.

  “Look, Kit.” His voice sounds a bit high-pitched and crackly. “I’m really sorry, but something’s come up. This isn’t really a good time.”

  I’m not very good at understanding different tones of voice, but he still sounds out of breath and now a bit stressed. There’s some background noise, water by the sounds of it. Oh dear. Have I called him while he was taking a bath, or walking somewhere, or worse, driving?

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry, Stephan. I should call back. When would be a good time?” I should have asked that at the beginning and then he could have told me straight away. I feel bad now. Everything is going wrong. I knew I should have texted. Oh god.

  “Don’t apologise, Kit. You couldn’t know. I’m sorry, after you’ve taken all this time to… Anyway, could you call me back in like twenty minutes, do you think? I do want to talk to you. Please? I’m really sorry—ah—that I can’t talk right—ouch—now.”

  “Are you all right?” I ask, because now it sounds like he’s in pain.

  “No, no, sorry, yes, yes, I’m—fucking hell, that’s bloody cold—yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll speak to you in about twenty minutes, Kit, I promise.”

  “O-okay.” The call disconnects and I frown at my phone, as if it might give me some answers. I know I could ask the phone, but whilst Siri sometimes knows the answers to my questions, she most likely won’t know what is wrong with Stephan and why he couldn’t talk right now.

  Well, that was confusing and a bit of a disaster. There are so many things I could have done better. The call only lasted forty-five seconds. This is why I don’t do friends and relationships or even casual acquaintances when a forty-five-second conversation on the phone ends up a confusing mess. Still, he wants me to call him back. Maybe the second time will be a bit more organised.

  Now I have a little time to think about everything that was said. Why did he sound like he was in pain? Was he in pain? What was it he said about something being cold? It’s all very puzzling.

  “Bessie?” I call, because whilst I was on the phone she’s disappeared up the track. She doesn’t usually stray too far from my side, unless there’s exciting new snow to drive her batty, or she’s found a really interesting smell.

  Oh dear, I hope she doesn’t roll in it, whatever it is she’s found.

  I can hear her barking, so she hasn’t gone that far.

  “Bessie?”

  She barks in response but doesn’t appear on the track. Where the hell is she? I haven’t got a plan in place for if she runs off again. I was just hoping she wouldn’t do it after that first time. Why won’t she come?

  “Bessie?” I call, feeling a little more panicked as I shine my head torch about, trying to see where she might be hiding. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms. I have gloves on, though, so I can’t feel it. “B-Bessie?”

  “She’s here.” A voice calls out at the same time as Bessie begins to bark continuously.

  There’s too much noise. I can’t process it. Someone is shouting and Bessie is barking. I put my hands over my ears and freeze. Bessie needs to stop, but I can’t see her and she’s too far away. I can’t shout because that would just add to the noise.

  “Kit?” the voice calls again, and I hear it clearly above Bessie’s barking because it’s my name, and I suddenly realise I recognise the owner of the voice.

  “Stephan?” I shout out. “Where are you?”

  “Yes, through here, in the trees at the side of the track. Bessie, go and find Kit. Find Kit, girl. Good girl.”

  Bessie appears, bounding towards me from further up the track, and my limbs are suddenly free of their paralysis.

  “Oh, thank god,” I greet her as she jumps up at me. I don’t even tell her off because I’m so relieved to see her. Then I remember what else is going on. “Where’s Stephan, Bessie? Take me to Stephan.”

  I’m not really sure if she understands me, but her retriever instinct, crossed with her beagle sense of smell, seems to comprehend what I want her to do. She takes off down the track, stopping a few paces ahead to make sure I’m following before running off again, with me in careful pursuit because the track is really quite icy and slippery.

  Around a bend in the track, I stop. Before me is a
sight I just didn’t expect, so it takes me a little while to make sense of it. Alongside this part of the track there is a drainage ditch. It is usually filled with water, or varying degrees of mud. Today, it is filled with a combination of icy water, slush, mud…and Stephan.

  “Stephan?” I exclaim.

  “Hello, Kit.” He smiles, but it doesn’t have his usual spring morning brilliance.

  “What are you, er, doing here?”

  “I’m sitting in a frozen, slushy pool,” he tells me, as if this is something I haven’t already worked out.

  “Er, why?”

  “For the fun of it, Kit,” he snaps, sounding a bit angry as he splashes the water around him with the palms of his hands.

  “Oh, I see.” I frown. What he said doesn’t match the expression on his face. “You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

  He heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, grimacing as water drips down from his fingers and over his lips and chin. “That’s because I’m not. I was being sarcastic, I’m sorry.” He says all this through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, I see.” I’m still a bit confused. “How did you get there?”

  “I fell, Kit. I was running, and I slipped and fell.”

  “Oh no, are you hurt? Do you need help? I know first aid. I did a course at the library last year. It lasted six weeks, one hour a week, on Tuesdays.” I stop when his expression changes from annoyed to something else I can’t interpret. “I’m sorry, you probably didn’t need to know that. Do you want me to help you out of that ditch?”

  “Yes, please.” Stephan is smiling again. I think he’s relieved I’ve stopped talking.

  I get as close to the edge of the ditch as possible and extend my hand for him to grab hold of. Bessie is trying to help too, but she thinks it’s a game. I don’t need to write down any plan for this, because it’s pretty easy to predict what could happen. Stephan is taller than me, so probably heavier. Bessie is not really helping, as she jumps into the ditch and starts splashing about, trying to lick Stephan’s face, or any part of him she can get to. With a startled cry, I end up in the ditch with Stephan, sitting on his lap, in fact.