Frozen in Time

Content Warning: Death (non-explicit)

I dragged him out the back door and down the porch steps to the field. He was pretty reluctant to leave the house, but I managed to get him into the snow before I dropped him. He sunk in as if he were lying down in a fluffy bed.

I exhaled and watched my breath flutter away in a wispy cloud. It was pretty cold out, but the view was worth it.

“Snowfall never gets old, does it?” I sighed, shaking out my hands. They were still struggling to warm up even in my cozy gloves. “First snow of the year and it’s a mean one. What do you think, Jack? Good enough for you?”

He was silent as he stared up at the snow, uncaring whether it landed on his face or not.

“Yeah, I agree. It’s damn pretty…even if it’s damn cold, too…Shit.” I rubbed my hands together and blew into them. No matter how many gloves I wear or how many heating packs I shove into them, my hands can never stay warm. Jack’s the opposite. He’s like a goddamn heater.

“Cold?” I asked him, just in case. His silence was answer enough. It was a nice day today, so I decided we should sit down and enjoy the weather together. I grabbed both his hands and took him to the bench by the forest’s edge.

When we got there, I sat him down in the snow, already huffing and puffing. I swore I wasn't that out of shape. Yet.

I set to work shoveling the two-inch blanket off the wooden bench. Jack had made it for us almost six years ago for Christmas and, despite the harsh weather we usually get in the area, it’s still in near-perfect condition. There were no cracks, no fading colors, and no creaks or groans when you sat down. It was an incredibly well-built bench. I might need to ask him to make another this coming Christmas. Maybe we could put it in the front yard by the big evergreen.

After dumping the small, metal shovel back into the toolbox, I took a moment to catch my breath. “I’m gonna make you do this next time since you’re the one who made the damn thing, alright?”

I picked Jack up from the snow and sat him down next to me on the bench, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. I swore I could feel his body heat through the freezing temperatures and all our layers of clothing.

Finally able to rest, I glanced over and saw him staring at the snow. He looked incredibly peaceful, if a little bit bored. But I knew he wasn’t actually bored. Mesmerized was more like it. Having grown up near the equator, he never saw snow until he turned twenty-seven, so even now, at forty-three, he loves to see the snow. I can’t say I agree, but I can’t deny how pretty all the dead trees and plants look when they’re covered with layer upon layer of fresh powder. Everything looks so undisturbed and quiet. And it was quiet. I couldn’t hear our breaths and the snow made no noise as it rained down softly. The silence probably would’ve driven me crazy if Jack wasn’t there with me. He never talked much, but he always made the silence comfortable. I never needed to say anything and I never expected anything in response.

I gazed out into the woods behind our house and spotted something moving in the snow. It was just as white as everything else, but those eyes were hard to miss.

“Look,” I whispered, nudging his shoulder, “there’s a rabbit over there.” His head slowly tilted down. “It looks so fuzzy with all that fur…”

We watched the rabbit meander around the almost-frozen stream, etching a path into the snow, until it stopped beside a tree. Soon after giving it a thorough sniff, it started chewing on the bark. It was only about five yards away, but I could barely hear it munching away on the bark.

The rabbit’s feast went on for a long, long time until the rabbit perked up, mid bite, then bolted back into the forest.

“And there it goes. Quick little fella,” I mumbled, taking the chance to rub my hands together again. I was finally starting to warm up inside my bundle of winter clothes, especially after all that work I’d just done shoveling snow and dragging Jack along with me. So I decided it was time to get up and have some fun. And what better way to do that than shoving your buddy into the snow when he’s not expecting it?

“Ha! What a faceplant!” I cackled, jumping up from the bench. Jack slid out into a starfish shape, facefirst in the snow. He was content to lie there and bask in the powder, so I flop down next to him.

I gazed into the neverending blueness above and let my mind wander. I knew Jack wouldn’t start a conversation, so I allowed myself to forget where I was and what I was doing.

Nothing else was all that interesting…Nothing but the timelessly frozen sky.

The sun was in the same spot it always was: just a little higher than sunset. Yet despite the sun being mere minutes above the far off mountains, the sky was a midday, light blue. And it never changed. It never darkened, it never lightened, and the sun never bothered to try a new spot. It was all…frozen.

I turned on my side and looked at Jack. He was still face-down in the snow. Just above his head was a few white specks that had also never bothered moving. They just sat there like fairy lights. They didn’t even dance. They were just…there. Just like Jack.

He told me once before that we’d grow old together. And I believed him. He never lied to me before and he still hasn’t. I just didn’t think we’d grow old together like this. Though, I suppose decomposing is simply the next stage of aging; one watches the clock tick until the ticking stops, the other winds the clock back to zero as if it had never been ticking.

I sighed and stood up, bringing Jack with me. I took my time manipulating his various limbs until he was waving back at the cabin. Then I trekked back through the snow, up the snow-covered steps, and turned back around. Jack was still waving at me, but his eyes were looking elsewhere.

I climbed the last step up to the porch and watched as his arm flopped to his side. His head dangled next until finally his legs fell apart and he crumpled to the ground, faceplanting once more in the snow.

I watched tiny white specks dot his back and I cried.