Snowflakes In Autumn, 4

Surprise! I’m posting Chapter Four of Snowflakes In Autumn today, ahead of schedule and in its entirety. I’m not doing this to screw with you in some bizarre and cruel eternal modification of the schedule, but because I’m in a rather gloomy place right now and I don’t trust myself to not write anything I won’t regret later.

Brittany and I are, once again, experiencing difficulties with Trey’s dad. Since he picked Trey up for his summer visitation, he’s not answered a single phone call, e-mail or smoke signal. And, since he had plans to take Trey to Colorado at some point, we have no idea if our little guy is here, there, in Colorado or somewhere in the air. I really don’t want to go into anymore detail about it right now, for fear that I’ll later regret having written something in anger and frustration. And, since we’re obviously going to have to take him back to court again for enforcement (at the least), it’s best to keep the unfortunate situation to myself for now.

Coquetting Tarradiddles will return to its regular Tuesday/Thursday schedule next week, when I’ll disclose the exact details of how the pay system is going to work, in addition to touching on some other topics I’ve been itching to write about since I started the serialization a few weeks ago. Until then, enjoy the final pre-paid installment of Snowflakes In Autumn…

Snowflakes In Autumn
Chapter Four

(click here to start at Chapter One, Part One)

The next morning, the sun rose on a beautiful day in sunny Florida, or at least it would have had we been vacationing at any other time of year. What our sun did was just sort of lazily poke its head out from under a blanket of dark and angry clouds, take a quick look around and say, Bugger this. Wake me when virginal sacrifice is back on the menu.

So it was a cold and miserable January morning, with grey rain clouds promising an ominous day filled with an abundance of unwanted hydration. If that wasn’t bad enough, three of the four members of our little Disney-bound quartet also had the misfortune of waking up with runny noses and coughs. I, for whatever reason, remained unaffected by whatever sickness had plagued everyone else, so I became the designated driver for the day. After packing up and loading everything back into the trunk, we all piled into the car, waved goodbye to the scary motel, and began the confusing task of navigating Orlando’s nonsensical roadways. I am not known for my navigational acumen, so finding a way back onto the interstate proved to be somewhat of a challenge. However, once I got my bearings and cracked the code of the on-ramp cloverleaf, we were back on the highway and headed for Disneyworld.

Billboards beckoned us onward with promises of fun and excitement, but were quickly negated by the general malaise that had infected my travel mates. It wasn’t until we drove onto Disney property and pulled up to our hotel that the apathetic pall that had settled over everyone began to lift. We were staying in a Disney-owned hotel called All Star Movies, which themed itself around famous films by employing the service of giant, multi-storied versions of well-known props and characters. It was all very whimsical and colorful, and once we’d checked in and taken our bags to the room, everyone’s spirits began a slow and steady rise.

“This is it,” I said. Pointing to the room number on the door with one hand, I reached out with the other to swipe the key through the lock. “Room 26. Home sweet home.”

I walked in and held the door as first Ryan, then Cathy, then Wade filed into the room. Ryan shouted, “Wow, look!” and pointed at the comforters on the beds. “It’s Toy Story!” He leapt onto the farthest bed and started poking at the various Toy Story characters that adorned the comforter. “There’s Buzz and Woody and Rex and Mr. Potato Head. Cool!”

Wade walked over to one of the light fixtures and started tapping it with his finger. “Huh,” he said, tilting his head to get a good look at it from underneath. “That’s weird.”

I set down Cathy’s suitcase and asked, “What’s weird?”

“This light. It looked like a box of popcorn a second ago.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Kind of. I guess it’s part of the theme.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I mean, it really looked like a box of popcorn.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I walked over to the fixture. “It’s sort of shaped like one, I guess. It could just be a big white rectangle, though.”

“No, you don’t get it.” He turned and walked towards the light switch. “Here, watch.”

I watched. He flicked the switch off. I was not impressed. “So? It’s darker now. Good job.”

“No, moron. Turn around.”

I turned and looked at the light. To my surprise, the big white rectangle was suddenly a red and white striped box bearing the words Pop and Corn. Sure enough, it looked like a box of popcorn. “Oh, I get it. Neat! Turn it on again.”

Wade flicked the switch, and as the light came on, the fixture changed from a red and white box of popcorn back into the simple white light fixture that I’d seen earlier. “Sweet,” exclaimed Wade. “Disney magic!”

We spent a few more minutes inspecting the room, then unpacked our suitcases and wandered out onto the hotel grounds. Walking out onto the balcony, we could see a three-story-tall version of Toy Story’s Buzz Lightyear nestled between the elevators of the next building over. It wasn’t until we were at ground level and walking through the courtyard that we discovered we were looking at the giant Buzz through the legs of a giant version of Woody, the cowboy doll from the same movie.

Cathy looked up and, without thinking, pointed at the colossal cowboy and shouted, “That’s the biggest Woody I’ve ever seen!”

I laughed, then pulled her aside and whispered in her ear.

She giggled and shouted again, “I mean, the SECOND biggest Woody I’ve ever seen!”

Wade and I laughed, and Ryan looked confused. I put my arm around Cathy, Wade hoisted Ryan up onto his shoulders, and we all walked off together, past the giant Buzz and the enormous Woody, onward towards the bus station. First stop: The Magic Kingdom!

****

Our first day in the park was spent wet and cold and miserable, but we had a good time. Well, insomuch as a group of sneezing, coughing, tired people can actually have a good time in the freezing rain. We rode Space Mountain, sailed through the Pirates of the Caribbean, met Cinderella and Ryan got Mickey Mouse’s autograph. It was a productive, if not altogether exciting day. The rest of the vacation wasn’t much better. It was fun for me, but I wasn’t knocking on death’s door and hacking up liquified bits of internal organs like everyone else in the group.

Ryan, while sick, was mostly unaffected by his affliction in the same way every little kid is somehow able to effectively eliminate the symptoms of any plague, provided there’s enough candy available. Wade and Cathy, however, were not so fortunate. Our remaining days at Disneyworld passed by quickly and everyone had a great time, although our mood was strongly affected by all the illness – at least until our very last night, when everyone was finally on the mend. We spent the day hopping between the four parks as everyone scrambled to pick up their must-have souvenirs and ride their favorite attractions one last time. We bounced from The Magic Kingdom to the Disney-MGM Studios, then hopped over to Animal Kingdom and finally, to EPCOT.

The sun was setting when the monorail pulled into the station after making a short trip around Future World. The geodesic sphere of Spaceship Earth was already being lit for the night, hues of purple and blue dancing off its reflective silver skin. The monorail slowed to a stop, and the onboard speaker crackled to life. “Please stay clear of the doors; por favor mantengase alejado de las puertas.” We gathered our bags, Wade took Ryan by the hand, and we disembarked the train of a 1970s future.

With the giant silver golfball called Spaceship Earth towering above us, we made our way down the various ramps and through the abundance of queues and checkpoints and turnstiles that stood between us and the park. Eventually, once our overloaded bags were checked by Security for potato chips and time bombs, we passed through the gates and began making our way into the park itself. Wade and Ryan ran off to ride their favorite attractions again, but Cathy had shopping to do. We marched straight back to the World Showcase, which could be more accurately described by sandwiching the two words with “Shopping” in the middle. Very nice and interesting shopping, mind you – but shopping, all the same. Lots and lots of shopping.

We found the best deals in the China pavilion. While Cathy was mesmerized by the Circle-Vision movie housed in the Temple Of Heaven, I was enamored with the prices in their shops. Unlike the rest of Walt Disney World, the piece of EPCOT real estate reserved for China seemed to function under a real world economy. Prices were reasonable and reflected the quality of the merchandise being offered. Nicer things cost more money, cheap things were cheap, and moderate items were priced moderately. After spending several days in Disneyworld, walking into a Chinese shop in EPCOT leaves one bewildered with reverse sticker shock.

For the uninitiated, I feel the need to take a break here to explain the existence of a strange and curious phenomenon known as The Disney Economy. When arriving at Disneyworld, you are entering into a new and independent fiscal reality from the world outside. Everything is more expensive, from socks to coats and Mickey plush, to hamburgers, fries and drinks. At first, it’s a shock to the system and the natural economist in anyone balks at the notion of paying three dollars for a bottle of Coca-Cola. In time, however, the omnipresence of high prices invades your senses and penetrates your mind to the point where, after a few days, you start thinking three bucks for a bottle of Coke is downright cheap, and finding a poster for thirty dollars feels like a glorious financial coup against the tyrannical financial rule of The Mouse. So, when you stumble into the China pavilion at EPCOT and find that a t-shirt for fifteen bucks rather than fifty, you get a little overwhelmed at the potential souvenir possibilities.

Getting more bang out for our buck in China meant that it became our de facto choice for buying gifts for the folks back home. We scurried through the shops buying up chopsticks and incense and coin purses. A ten-dollar teapot for my parents, a thirty-dollar silk umbrella for her mother, and our shopping was almost done. The “Made In China” sticker was a badge of honor in our version of the Disney Economy, as long as whatever it was stuck to was actually purchased in China, as well. Some of the same items could be found elsewhere in the park – and they would bear a “Made In China” stamp of their own – but while one would cost you fifty bucks, the other would only set you back only twelve. Ah, China!

It was after our oriental spending spree that we found ourselves standing outside the Temple of Heaven and sharing a cigarette at one of the designated smoking sections. Disney has become quite serious about enforcing their no-smoking policies, and pursues offenders with a sort of furious friendliness that I find altogether disconcerting. So, rather than smoke five feet away where there is a nice, comfortable bench upon which we could sit to rest our weary bones, we chose to stay upright in the confined quarters of an approved smoking zone and free from the attentions of the smiling, handshaking nice guys who just want to have a quick word with us around the corner. I’ve seen too many movies where that sort of thing ends badly, and I had no desire to spend time underground in the utilidor dungeon of Disney Jail.

So we stood there in the cold, smoking and shivering and holding each other for warmth. We were standing above a babbling brook and resting against the red wooden rails of a tiny little bridge. I was leaning back against the railing while Cathy leaned against me, resting her back against my chest. I held her in my arms and she reached up to grab my hands wrapped across her chest. “Thank you so much for this,” she said.

“No,” I said. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming with me. For being here. For being you.”

She turned around to face me, and we wrapped ourselves in each other’s arms. She tilted her head up, I tilted mine down, and our lips met in the middle. We stood there on that bridge, kissing and not wanting to love each other, when the nightly fireworks show began. We were still there on that little red bridge, still holding each other and kissing when it ended.

Wade and Ryan rounded the corner, looking for us. Ryan was shouting as he ran towards us, holding some exciting new toy his Dad had just bought him. “Uncle Connor! Check this out!”

I leaned down to deliver one last, quick kiss and said, “Cathy?”

“Yeah?”

“Flower.”

She blushed and smiled and hid her face. “Me too, Connor. Me, too.”

We all walked out of the park that night, holding hands and laughing. Now that everyone was feeling better, we talked about everything we’d seen and done, and about how soon we all wanted to come back. I knew I wanted to come back, and I wanted to bring Cathy again. I stopped off at EPCOT’s last bathroom, just off to the side of Spaceship Earth. And, as I stood at the urinal, my mind danced through the week’s events, through the sniffles and the smiles and the crisp white sheets with yellow flowers. I grinned and walked to the sink to wash my hands.

I stood there, rubbing my hands with soap and looking at my reflection in the mirror, and I realized that I hadn’t just had a great vacation. I didn’t just spend the past several days riding fun rides and eating good food, nor did I simply have a good time. No…I realized something, standing in that tile-lined bathroom under the giant silver ball. It hit me there, and it hit me hard. I couldn’t say ‘flower’ anymore.

I was in love.

****

When we returned home, Cathy moved in as planned. It was a fairly effortless transition, as she didn’t have much in the way of stuff. A few suitcases of clothes, a chest of drawers and a bed, and the rest were just trifles. Since she’d already been meeting me at my apartment when I got off work and leaving the next morning, there wasn’t a whole lot new that I had to adapt to. She was already at the apartment anytime I was, only now she was there when I wasn’t. That took a bit of getting used to, as I was used to my privacy. Also, having her at home doing things while I wasn’t there sometimes led to awkward moments and embarrassing phone calls.

I was at my desk one afternoon, toiling away in the cubicle of my corporate cell, when a call came in from Cathy. I picked up the receiver. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

“Um,” she began, dragging out the syllable in the longest, most  uncomfortable way imaginable. “Connor, can I ask you a question?”

I hesitated, fearing what she would ask. I tried to mask the fear by disguising my voice in confidence. I failed. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Er, what?”

“How many times did you have sex in your closet?”

I sat there, holding the phone and blinking. I tried to speak, but was dumbstruck with the absurd shock of the question.

“Connor? Are you there?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “What?”

“How many times did you have sex in your closet?”

“I never did.” This was true, at least as far as I could remember. There had been a few nights where the haze of my memory was more like a London fog, but none were so thickly veiled that I’d have forgotten something like love amongst my coat hangers. With a little caution and a little more trepidation, I asked, “Why?”

“Well, I thought I’d make room for some of my stuff, so I was cleaning out the closet.”

The sharp sting of panic struck my chest and I cut her off. “But I told you I’d clean it out this weekend.”

“You sure do have a lot of junk in it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s why I don’t want you to bother with it. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Well…” she began, trailing the ellipsis in uncomfortable ways. “I kind of already started.”

“What?”

“Yeah. That’s why I called.”

“Um, ok?” I feigned confusion.

“Well, there’s like a ton of used condoms in here.”

“Um…”

“Like seriously, there’s a lot.”

“Er…”

“I didn’t count them at first, but so far I’m up to thirty-seven.”

“Ah…”

“So how many times did you have sex in here?”

“I never did!” I proclaimed, righteous in my denial.

“Then why are there so many condoms in here? I’m not even partway in the closet yet and I can see like twenty more!”

“Um…”

“Just answer the question, Connor.”

“Well, ok.” I thought about stalling for time, but quickly realized that I’d just end up back where I started. “It’s like this. I don’t have a trashcan in the bedroom, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, that’s it, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Um, when you’re in the middle of…uh…”

“Sex?”

“Yeah, that. When you’re in the middle of it and you, like, need a new, uh…”

“Condom?”

“Yeah. When you need a new one, you kind of have to get rid of the old one, so…”

“So you put it in your closet?”

“Well, yeah. Throw it, actually.”

“That’s gross, Connor.”

“Yeah, I know. It is. Was. I don’t do it anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

“Um…”

“Because the first couple I picked up were wet.”

“Ewww.”

“Yes. Very.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a brief pause on the line, followed by the sharp sting of the female “Fine.” She was pissed. “We’ll talk about it when you get home.”

I said, “Ok,” then had a brief flash of inspiration. “Hey, Cathy?”

“Yeah?” she asked, an angry forked tongue darting from the end of the question mark.

“How about I stop by the store and pick up a little trashcan on the way home?”

“Good idea.”

****

A couple of weeks after the infamous closet clean-out incident, I found myself taking a shower on the night of my birthday. Cathy had taken me out to dinner with my parents, although they insisted on picking up the bill. Cathy, a firm believer in consistent unemployment, didn’t exactly put up the strongest of protests – but she made a good show of it. We came back home after dinner, and she gave me my birthday present…and afterwards, as I said, I found myself taking a shower.

Maybe it was something in the hot steamed air of the shower mixing with the endorphin rush from my birthday present, but standing there beneath the shower head, with the warm water trickling over my body as I cleaned my unclean places, I had what alcoholics call A Moment Of Clarity. At least, I thought that’s what it was. It felt real, whatever it should have been called. It felt real and right and exciting. I flashed back to that night leaving EPCOT, to the urinal and then washing my hands at the sink. I flashed back and flashed forward, and I knew where I’d been and where I wanted to go. I loved Cathy. I knew it and she knew it, but neither one of us wanted to admit it, or to say it first. I decided to take the plunge.

I stuck my head out the shower, wrapping the edge of the shower curtain against my neck. “Cathy!” I yelled, hopefully loud enough for her to hear.

A muffled, “Yeah?” crawled into the bathroom from beyond the hallway.

“Could you come in here a second?”

A moment later, I heard the door open. The sticky air of the shower was sucked out in a rush of steam, and crisp, chilled air rushed in to take its place. I shivered. “Cathy? That you?”

“Yeah, whatcha need?”

I turned off the water and pulled my towel over the shower rod. “Well,” I began as I wrapped the towel around my waist. “I wanted to tell you something.”

She sat down on the edge of the toilet. “Ok. What?”

“Um, I wanted to tell you ‘Flower’ again.” I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped onto the bath mat.

She smiled, made an ‘awwwww’ noise and said, “Flower for me, too.”

“Yeah, but…” I knelt down in front of her, trying my best to keep the towel from slipping off and ruining the moment.

“But what?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.

“I don’t think I want to anymore.”

She looked stunned. Confused. Nonplussed. “What?!”

I smiled and reached out to grab her hand. She started to pull it away. “Wait,” I said. “I don’t mean that.”

“Don’t mean what?” She lowered her hand back to her lap. I grabbed it.

“I mean that I don’t want to say ‘flower’ anymore, because I want to say the other word.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

I reached out my other arm to grab both of her hands in both of mine, and I said, “I love you, Cathy.”

Tears immediately appeared from her eyes and leaked down her cheeks. She sniffled and laughed and cried some more. “I love you too, Connor! I love you so much!”

“I’ve wanted to tell you since our last night at Disneyworld.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, remember that little bridge in EPCOT?”

“The one in China?”

“Yeah. That’s where I think I fell in love with you.”

“Oh, Connor.” She leaned forward and kissed me hard, almost knocking me backward against the floor.

I pushed back into her, harder as I pulled her up. Our tongues danced together, delicately feeling every soft surface of each other, exploring and probing as we rose to our feet. I put her face in my hands and pressed her cheeks, driving her mouth harder into mine. She slid herself up against the countertop, tracing her feet up my legs, while her hands felt for the towel.

I reached down and ripped it away. She pulled off her shirt. I pulled down her skirt. I grabbed her and held her and pulled her close. I wanted to pull her into me, into my body, into my soul. Instead, I pushed myself into her. My body into hers. Equal. Undivided. Together.

We were there in the bathroom, making love on the counter, knocking off the soap dish and toothbrushes with each thrust and moan. I wanted her more than ever, more than anything. She wanted me. I loved her. I made love to her. I wanted to make her feel as good as I felt when I was with her, when I was inside her. I pushed harder and deeper and faster, and she moaned longer and lower and louder. She had her arms around me, and I was holding her waist, writhing and wriggling between my hands. She started to scream and bit her lip, whimpering instead. She put one arm behind her head, against the mirror and pushed herself into me. Harder, harder, harder…

She screamed and lifted her hips off the counter, pushing her feet against the wall behind me. She let her other hand go and pressed it against the mirror as well, using them to push into me even as her feet pushed her up. She was still screaming when she arched her back and came to climax, shivering and shaking and moaning. She came hard, and with every muscle tensed and taut, she came loud. Then, she fell.

It happened faster than I could react. One second she was hovering in the air in orgasmic ecstasy, the next she’d fallen back to Earth and hit hard against the countertop, sliding into the sink and cutting her back on the water faucet. She started screaming and leapt forward, shoving me against the wall as she got to her feet and reached her arm around to grab at her back. It was bleeding.

I tried to step aside, but one of my feet caught on the towel I’d thrown to the floor, while the other slipped on a patch of water I’d dripped beneath me. I fell backwards, flailing my arms and trying to grab hold of something. My right hand found the towel rack. It was plastic. It didn’t help.

I continued falling, ass over feet into the edge of the bathtub. I tipped over and into it, smacking my head against the soapdish mounted on the wall. It was metal. Not plastic. It won.

I sat there in the shower, slightly concussed and with blood dripping down my face, and I laughed. Cathy was writhing against the wall and stretching her arms to try and reach the cut on her back, and she was laughing. We were both in rather a lot of pain, but it didn’t matter. It was embarrassing, humiliating and endearing, all at the same time. I sat there in that bathtub naked, wet, and bleeding – and I laughed. I laughed at myself and at Cathy, and at the two of us bleeding and laughing together.

I thought to myself, this is the amusing sort of mishap that married couples have and then tell their friends about later at dinner parties, isn’t it? Only, I said to myself, we aren’t married. We’re just dating. Aren’t we?

****

We went to bed that night bleeding from back and head, but still laughing. Laughing and smiling and holding each other together, two naked bodies pressed beneath the covers, flesh against flesh, soul against soul. We kissed, we talked, and we fell deeper and deeper into the swirling tempest of love. As she fell asleep that night in my arms, I knew that I’d found the one woman I’d always been searching for. I loved her. I wanted to always love her, and I wanted her to always love me. I took a deep breath and looked at her sleeping beneath me, her head rising and falling with the rhythm of my chest. I smiled and whispered five soundless words.

“I’m going to marry you.”

Continued in Chapter 5…

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