"Jean! Jean! Wake up, it's snowing!"
Snow. I throw off the doona and look out the window. Holy shit. I run out into the lounge, grabbing a hoodie off the couch as I pass. I throw on my shoes, dash onto the porch, and stop. Gobsmacked.
The world's gone pale, whited out by a thin layer the colour of the grey dawn. A huge sheet spreads across the ground, smooth on the driveway and rumpled on the grass, and the car, leaves, twigs, and railings all have their own perfectly shaped blankets. It reminds me of those empty houses where everything's covered up to keep off the dust. I've startled a couple of wallabies that were grazing out front; they hop away through the millions of tiny flakes that fill the air.
Claire comes up behind me, holding out a jumper.
"Thanks," I shrug it on, glad of the extra warmth.
"No worries. So, whadjya think?"
"I thought it would be more... I dunno, Christmasy?"
"Wrong hemisphere, sweetheart," she says, smiling. I smile back, but my heart's not in it. There's something about the sight of snow that's making me feel right queer: if the world's an empty house, it's one I used to live in but forgot about until now.
"You OK?" Claire's noticed my funny turn.
"Yeah," I reply "Just deja vu or something, that's all. I'll walk it off."
I go down the steps and head out across the grass, listening to the scrunching sound of my footsteps. I know it, just like I know how the snow gets in my eyes or the way I cross my arms and hunch against the chill; there's a sort of aching feeling in all of them that makes me want to cry. I don't know what it is, or where it comes from, but it's huge, and old, and breaks over me like a wave. I dive under it and look up, losing myself in the 3D way the snow stands out against the sky. My nose is all sniffly, I don't know if it's tears or just cold.
Suddenly Claire's there, seizing me like she thinks I'm gonna vanish.
"Oh my god Claire! What's wrong?" I ask, wrapping my arms around her. She's tense, and shaking, and it's a moment before she's able to answer.
"Nothing. Fuck. I don't know. That was fucking weird. Like, I was watching you in the snow and suddenly all I could think about was how much it would hurt to, to lose you." she sounds angry, but there's cracks in it "I have no idea where the hell it came from, I've literally never felt anything like it before," she curls into me, holding so tight it's almost hard to breathe.
"It's bullshit, whatever it is," I say, stroking her hair "I'm not going anywhere, I promise,"
"You'd better not," she whispers, letting go a bit and reaching up to kiss me. It's warm, and steadying, and carries us both to calmer waters.
"So, what'd it hit you with?" she murmurs, resting her forehead against mine.
"Yearning?" I realise "Like, there's pride in being a battler, yeah, and honour in doing the right thing when it's not easy, but deep down inside you really, really wish that things were kinder. That you could just… fly away." It's my turn to run out of words. Clare hugs me again, gently this time. We stand there, breathing out the wave in clouds that melt into the morning air.
"You know," she says after a little while "If we're talking about pride and honour and stuff, I seem to recall you swearing a solemn oath to make me pancakes this morning."
"Oh yeah. I did, eh" I smile again. Weakly, but for real.
"Verily," she steps back and looks me in the eye, dead serious "With bacon."
I bow to her all fancily "As you wish, milady, but first canst we make a man of snow?" I've always wanted to.
"Of course, brave knight, but maybe you should clad thyself in something that's not pyjamas first, yeah? You'll get cold. Also, you have snow in your hair."
"I do, eh," I grin, reaching up to brush it off.
"No!" she laughs "Don't! It's super cute!"
"Whatever milady wants," I say, shivering. Now that she's not holding me it's suddenly bloody freezing. I offer her my arm all courtly-like and, together, we walk back to the house.