Angel in the Snow

[Inspired by the song Angel in the Snow by Elliott Smith]

“The night is young” “The night just checked into a retirement home” “Well, you don’t got anywhere to be” “And you do?” He shrugs, feigning a sheepish grin. He’s joking, but he does have somewhere to be. And he’s joking, but I really don’t. I think he knows that too, which is why the air around us feels so heavy. There’s an almost chemical power imbalance. I’m not allowed to joke about it though, he’s the one who’s graciously donated his evening away to me, and here I am, being a bum, a bore. Standing stiff and frozen among the frost-bitten trees. And here he is, somehow crunching on a snow cone. When the flavor runs out halfway through, he throws it away. “You should’ve filled it up more” He just shrugs again.

We’re walking through Central Park. The stars are gone tonight, and the moon is shadowed by the clouds. It’s 1 am, and snow cascades around us. Maybe if he kept his snow cone, it would’ve never ended. Maybe the sky would’ve just kept pouring more into his cup. “I gave you a call when I got here. You didn’t pick up,” he looks at me. I don’t know if he knows that I know that he’s trying to earn points for a basic gesture. “Sorry, I was busy,” I don’t let him have it.

Then suddenly, he goes and lies on the ground. His pale, boney limbs stretch out, swiping the snow like wind shield wipers. He giggles like a boy, and his skin flushes pink. “Come on, make angels,” a glimmer reflects off the snow and into his beady, beautiful eyes, that now seem to be glued to me. “Come on, please?” The question lingers, like an offering, a sacrifice. It’s just sitting there, in the cold air unanswered, like how he’s lying here, all bare and vulnerable. My eyes purse with my lips. He rolls over, and next to him, crushed into the snow, is the imprint of him. It sits in gray while the snow around it sparkles, and the right side is smudged from him rolling over. It’s all out there in front of me, all of his being, and perfect. So I go and lie next to him, and feel an icy hug wrap around me. It’s uncomfortable, but he grins and turns his head, looking at me. His nose is almost beet red. “Don’t you know that I love you?”