The Snow Steps

The steam from my hot chocolate fogs the image of the ink black forest outside my window.

As I take a sip of the tongue-numbing drink, I wonder what’s keeping my husband. He stepped out almost eleven minutes ago to investigate the cause of the bright, highlighter-like headlights we were seeing. We had passed them on our way trekking up to our vacation cabin.

But from inside the low truck, the tall trees obscured the picture. So, we couldn’t see the exact source, but my husband wondered if it was some travelers who got stuck in the snow. And since I married my husband for his compassion and bravery, I gave a broad smile as he decided to venture and look for the people. But now I think he’s been gone too long.

TAP TAP!

“Ugh!” I jump at the sound that swooshes my drink over the rim of the glass. It leaks through my thick royal blue wool sweater, scorching my skin. “Really…” I whisper under my breath as I get off the couch, facing the window so I can go in the kitchen and grab a damp towel.

I’m quick with it, and as I rub the stain with cold water, I stare outside and watch the tree branches print the glass with their icy fingers. It’s as if they’re reaching for my limbs to show me the crystal stars outside.

Tick

I look over at the vintage brown wood clock mounted to the wall. This makes it fifteen minutes.

I am going to look for him.

The fresh blowout flurries my raven hair as soon as my left foot sinks into the frosted plains. The snow in the deep valleys of Switzerland crunches like styrofoam as I journey to the front of the forest, suffocating in a vast black Burlington coat with dark red wool gloves, tightly clasping a police officer’s flashlight. I don’t need it currently because it’s only early at night, but as soon as I get into the thicket of the woods where the shadows harvest, I want to be able to turn it on instantly.

“It’s cold…” My breath breaks the silence of the air like a candle being softly blown out.

From a distance, I no longer see the headlights, which may mean I’m either too far away or that my husband has found the lights. But seventeen minutes ago? It couldn’t be the latter.

Crunch

Crunch

Crunch

My steps are stones being thrown into quicksand. They make unnecessarily slow sounds that leave deep prints tracing my path towards the beginning of the forest. I gaze my eyes over the footsteps and study what it’s like. I’m leaving a piece of me in the cabin waiting to follow these exact steps. Letting out a visible sigh, I turn around and start voyaging through the bones of trees.

❅ ❄ ❅

“Honey…!” I have been continuously shouting softly since I’ve been walking for the past six minutes, I think. I don’t know. I lost count after the forty-sixth tree.

“Hone-Woo!” The wind once again whistles through my ears, but this time, while I’m bracing the harsh winter atmosphere, my teeth chatter in tone with a voice I swear responds to me.

A sound silkier than clouds before it rains, voices, here.

The beat of my feet meets the ground like ice skates as I run towards the sound without thinking twice. My breath is heaving, the blood rushing in my ears, but I keep going. Leaving my trail chasing after me as I search for my husband. But as my eyes start watering from the intensity of the space around me, I wish that I could hear the sound to be clear that I’m going on the right track, especially as I see a black car coming close. Wait. I stop.

Stuck in the snow is a vehicle darker than midnight. With its doors open. And no one inside.

“Honey…” I call, despite knowing that there isn’t going to be an answer.

I walk around the car, noticing how the interior looks as if the snow is melting the leather. The seats look torn by wolverines nestling in starvation. The front windshield has spiderwebs of cracks throughout, as if to display an invisible crash that’s happening right in front of me. I look around to see if I can spot a tree or a mountain, but I don’t see anything that could have caused this. I’ve only met with the overbearing ghosts of more trees.

“Where…?” I wonder under my breath. Why does it have to be this hard to find the man I married… about six years ago. How long has it been now… thirty minutes. We’ve been to this cabin five times since our honeymoon. Every anniversary, where did he escape to?

The moon gets brighter, which tells me that I need to turn on my light. I flex my hand a little to defrost my fingers, then I pull out his flashlight. I turn it on with a little twirl that hits the ground.

“Oh..” I hum in subtle shock.

The light lit a path to follow. I believe it must be fate as I stare curiously at the footprints in the snow that aren’t mine. At least I don’t think they are, because they’re going past the car. A place I haven’t been to yet. The prints look too small to be my husband’s. Actually, they look about the same as mine, so maybe it was someone from the car. It doesn’t matter, I’m going to follow them anyway. This time, after hesitating for just a split second, I use the steps instead of stars to navigate.

❅ ❄ ❅

He proposed to me while I was ice skating. My husband. I was practicing to make it in the ranks for a minor competition. I wasn’t good enough for the Olympics. Too clumsy. He did it during our seventeenth date together. I was doing aerials just for fun, but my last turn made me stumble into the man who was on one knee. We laughed so hard, mostly to mask our pain. We were surprised the ice rink didn’t break on impact. That’s why I’m hoping it’s the same for this lake.

I stand in front of a lake that just looks like a mirror of black ice. This is where the trail ends, but unless the person turned back, which I didn’t see traces of, then they had to have crossed the ice.

I tap the reflection with the heel of my foot. I shiver slightly as I feel the slight solidity of the ice. What if he’s at the cabin and has decided to look for me? How would I know?

I would know.

I hitch my breath as I feel the peaceful beauty under my feet. It’s sticky, like a freezer-burned popsicle that’s freshly been on your tongue. I push onto the edge of the lake, leaning my weight over, until both feet are on top of the frozen chasm.

Chasm? Such a fascinating word. New feeling. I almost want to move my feet and do aerials under the stars, but it doesn’t happen that way.

I see the galactic icecubes soar higher, as I sink lower. Cast a web of broken promises.

My earlobes drown out my sounds as they meet the bone peeling water. I open my mouth to cry, and it feels like someone sent an icepick through my esophagus. The lake wasn’t strong enough to get me through. What about my husband?

❅ ❄ ❅

The steam from my hot chocolate mug filters onto my eyelids. I open them wearily and almost jump as I realize I’m staring at the chilliest blue orbs.

“You were knocked out for a couple of seconds? Where’d you go?”

I blink slowly at my husband, as I give myself some time to slip out of the drowsiness.

Where did I go? What does he mean?

“You’re the one who’s been gone so long? I almost went to look for you,” I grumble.

He chuckles, “What do you mean, I haven’t even left yet. Those lights look like they are still out there.”

Lights? Wait…

I turn around sharply, almost discarding the mug that’s still in my hand.

Outside the window, there are headlights, slightly dim, but there. But that’s not what’s confusing me. What’s confusing me is the fact that, clearly indented in the snow, is a set of fresh footprints. They look the size of mine.

“What’s the matter?” He whispers into my ear.

Slowly turning to him, I say, “If you haven’t been out, then whose footsteps are those?”

He gives me a quizzical look, “I thought they were yours. Didn’t you say you were almost going to go look for me?”

“Yes, almost. I didn’t go outside to do it.” I didn’t. I think.

“Well, maybe they belong to whoever those lights belong to. Maybe they went looking for people to help.”

Clenching the mug in my fingers, barely audible, I state, “Then why are the footprints going around the house?”

His response is delayed by thirty seconds too many.

“There’s a forest all over. Maybe they didn’t see us and kept going. It doesn’t matter, I’m going to go check it out.”

Before I can say something, he gives me a quick peck on the lips that blazes goosebumps up my arms. It’s colder than usual.

“Wait, honey.” I shoot off the couch as he gets his coat from the sofa arm behind me.

Thump

“Oh no, you spilled your hot chocolate.”

I blink at my husband’s voice as I realize that the frantic movement caused me to drop the baby blue mug out of my hand. Spilling its contents, or at least I thought it did.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I mumble to myself.

Under my feet is a puddle, but it’s not brown and milkish as it’s supposed to be.

Instead, it’s a vast, transparent stain, as if I were dripping water onto the carpet.

“Do you… Do you see, do you see this too?”

I don’t hear a response. I look over.

Wheesh

Wind filters through the crack in the slightly open door.

“Honey!” I yell out. I scramble to the door and open it wide as I practically leap out into the frosted night.

My toes touch styrofoam.

With my chest heaving, I look around, my eyes meeting the trail of snow steps going around the house.

What if he didn’t go this way?

I shake my head.

Doesn’t matter. I’m going to follow them anyway.