81. Snow
As a child, Bobby had loved the snow and the cold. He loved the way snow glittered on the ground, the way it covered the streets in thick blankets and the way it lay over the tops of trees. Snow usually meant school would be canceled. Snow also meant hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup and big comfy sweaters, afternoons spent on the couch. Snow and cold went hand-in-hand with the holidays, too. Christmas just wouldn't be the same without a flurry of snow falling outside the window, fogging up the glass. Valentines day was a day of ice skating, holding hands with Connie and trying not to slip, laughing when they did.
Bobby began hating the snow and the cold during his last year of Jr High.
The day started out normal enough; Bobby had pancakes for breakfast, kissed his mother on the cheek and went out to get the mail. He opened the door and stepped onto the walkway.. - and into a pile of snow. It sunk through his slipper, soaking through his sock, and nearly froze his toes off before he got back inside and changed.
That same afternoon, Bobby stood in line at lunch to get some hot chocolate – at least it was cold enough for a hot treat! - when Connie, his girlfriend since elementary school, strode up to him looking worried.
"Can we talk?"
That was never a good sign, but Bobby smiled and nodded and abandoned his third-person-position in line to follow Connie outside and into the snow and cold air so that she could take his hand, apologize, break up with him, and apologize again.
It began to snow as he watched her walk away.
Two years into High School and Bobby Hill still hated the cold and the snow. It was mid-December, nearing Christmas, and Bobby was no where near as excited at the prospect of Christmas and snow and all that came with it as he used to be when he was only 10. Still, he wrapped up in his biggest, thickest, and warmest Winter coat, pulled on his boots and readied himself for the cold and the piles of wet everywhere.
Since Jr High, Bobby had changed a bit. He'd grown his hair out just past his chin when his father had demanded he get a hair cut. Still, he kept it as shaggy as he could, hanging around his blue eyes and over his forehead. He'd also lost a considerable amount of weight and blamed this as the reason why he no longer kept heat in as well as he used to. He was already freezing by the time he walked across the frozen path leading from his front door to the sidewalk.
Joseph was waiting for him, one hand thrust deep into the pocket of his faded black jeans, the other holding a cigarette to his lips. His hair was long, thick and dark, inky strands curling around his chin and reaching mid-neck. Mr. Dribble never made him cut his hair, or do anything he didn't want to. Mr. Dribble didn't even notice that Joseph stole cigarettes from his pack every week.
Bobby grinned when he saw him and jogged the rest of the way to Joseph's side. Joseph jutted his chin out in greeting.
"Cold." Bobby complained instantly, shivering inside his jacket, hands tucked into the warm confines of his deep pockets.
Joseph grinned around his cigarette, then blew a long strand of pale gray smoke into the sky. Bobby noted idly that the smoke looked the same way his breath did in the morning on days like this.
"I like it." Joseph said in his rough voice.
Bobby scowled, "I hate the snow." He grumbled, brows furrowing.
"Why?" Joseph fixed Bobby with a dark, considering gaze and Bobby found himself freezing under the scrutiny. Why? He'd never considered it, beyond the fact that it was cold and wet and made him feel horrible. Joseph had never bothered to ask before either.
"You used to love the snow..." Joseph was grinning again, lost in some long ago memory of when he and Bobby would have snow ball fights and stalk around the neighborhood with their walkie-talkies, pretending to be a rescue crew or soldiers.
Bobby considered the why of the question. Yes, he remembered when he loved the snow; the way it glittered on the ground, the way it covered the trees and made everything look... Jolly. He remembered Connie, too, face scrunched with guilt as she apologized, her hand warm on his... the way her backpack bobbed against her back as she walked away from him.
Bobby scowled, "I just do, okay?"
Joseph's expression flickered. For a moment Bobby thought he was going to comment, maybe demand an explanation, but then he just looked away, big black eyes cutting off to the side.
They weren't speaking. The silence settled over them, as thick as the snow that would cover the streets and the lawns in the middle of the night. Bobby shivered, more for something to do than any real reaction from the snow.
"It's cold." He complained without any real malice in the words. He stiffened in surprise when Joseph's arm slid around his shoulders and pulled him in a little.
"I know," He said, and grinned down at Bobby.
Bobby suddenly didn't feel cold at all. He felt hot. He felt like it was Spring and the snow was melting and the flowers were popping their colourful heads out from beneath the frozen ground. He felt like the birds were waking up, like soon it would be time to drink lemonade and play Soccer and fall in the grass like he did when he was a child. He smiled, cheeks pinking, as Joseph leaned in closer, cigarette in one hand, his hair veiling the side of his face and the burning end of the cigarette reflected in Josephs big, dark eyes; a pinprick of bright orange.
Joseph wordlessly offered the cigarette to Bobby, who took his hand out of his pocket and barely felt the cold wash of air on warmed skin as he took the cigarette between two fingers and brought it to his lips.
Bobby pulled in a short drag and felt it heating his insides, burning his lungs pleasantly. It began to snow then, flurries of it falling quickly, collecting on their hair, on their coats. He grinned when he pulled the cigarette away, smoke billowing out from between his lips. Joseph was grinning too, his arm still around Bobbys shoulders as he breathed in the second-hand smoke and laughed, tilting his head up to look into the sky and at the snow that sprinkled his face and collected on his long, dark eyelashes like drops of dew.
Bobby Hill loved the snow.