Art from Monet to convey the snowy world that has risen out of the blizzard.
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Waking up I feel my cheeks are cold in the Alaskan morning. Though, the parts of my body that are under the heavy blankets and comforters are not as chilled, instead actually warm, surprisingly.
Sitting up, I scratch the back of my head as I pick up my phone and look at the time. It's a little past nine. Raising my body up in the bed causes some of the bedsheets and comforters to fall off me, and that's cold, so I snuggle back into bed for a minute. The residual heat present lets me relax. Though, I'm guessing it's time to wake up, and perhaps downstairs somebody is cooking breakfast, and would probably be best if I was downstairs by now. I've seen enough shows with the generic untimely guest who never lives up to a modest humble visitor to a household. I'm not going to be one of those, especially with Azrael in the same household. I don't want to show off something I'm now, since I try to be a respectable person, and would never present myself as that only to appeal to Azrael, but should still appear as a wholesome individual who can be looked at with respect. So it's clear what I should be doing around now.
Getting out of bed, changing exposes my nude body and the skin to the cold air, and makes me hurry the overall process. Taking off my clothes and putting on an undershirt, a long-sleeve shirt, and jeans and socks wards off the chilly morning air found within the confines of the room. I also wear the sweater that Azrael lent me. It stretches over my chest and I think maybe that'll catch Azrael's eye. Not to mention it keeps me toasty warm. Another nice little detail.
After sitting on the bed and pulling my socks up past my ankles, I walk out my room and out into the hallway. Azrael's doorway is closed and isn't ajar for me to glance into, and I guess maybe he's either asleep or downstairs already. I decide to not knock as if he is asleep I might wake him and I wouldn't want to do that. There's an internal conflict where I want to see him, and I'm very tempted to knock just to maybe see his bedhead-hair, and possibly a cute waking face of Azrael, though the other side pushes back against that thought. Standing in front of his door doesn't settle these two warring thoughts, but a separate machination that some other member of Azrael's family walking out and seeing my standing oddly here does occur to me, and that causes me to move, heading toward the stairs, leaving the closed door. Though, I promise myself that I will be able to see Azrael.
Entering the living room, I see that Duke as well as Shelly in the kitchen connected. They seem to have gotten up a short time ago, and notice me with an inviting and polite atmosphere.
"Oh, good morning, Hogarth," says Shelly with a friendly smile.
"Good morning," I reply, walking over to where they are cooking breakfast as I had expected.
"Did you sleep alright?" asks Shelly.
"I did," I say and glance out the window over the sink in the kitchen to outside, "is the blizzard still raging?"
"The worst is behind us," says Shelly as she look outside as well and smiles, "there's supposed to be some mild snowing and cloudy skies, but tomorrow it's supposed to be rather pleasant. Not butterfly fields and buttercups, but it'll have the sun out with maybe one or two clouds that will block the sun for a minute or too. There'll be snow, only on the ground, and it'll still have some sunlight."
Walking over to the window, I see that maybe half a foot of snow has piled onto the world. But with the sunlight that is fogged by the clouds above I see some of the details I didn't notice when I arrived yesterday night.
Trees near the farmhouse stand bare and reaching up into the sky for warmth that the earth has shed from the departure of Proserpina, with the cold burying their feet. Around the proximity of the farmhouse is a brick wall, also covered in the white powder. The perimeter of the property also has a wooden fence, but I can't see the road hidden by snow. There's a nice painting out there that I remember from art class in high school, an impressionist painter who depicted a snowy farm, and the spectacle outside is redolent to me of that art piece. I think painting had the name of a bird, like raven, or the jackdaw, but I'm not sure. Regardless, it's a soft, calm, and shining winter scene outside.
"It's a nice day for a snow fight," says Shelly, "if the kids were here."
"Kids?" I ask.
"Yeah," says Shelly as she nods at Duke, "Duke and Clementine's kids."
"You have children?" I ask curiously.
I guess that their age that is maybe a little younger than my own parents would make sense that they had grown adult sons and daughters, though since they never mentioned it I never knew.
"Oh, uh," says Duke as he widens his eyes at Shelly, and a silent message passes between them.
"Err, I mean," says Shelly, and moves around the kitchen, "you aren't Jewish are you, Hogarth? We're having bacon as part of breakfast."
So they can't talk about the kids of Clementine's and Duke's. I can't tell exactly how that's related to the relationship between Azrael and his father, but for now I just pretend that I didn't hear anything weird just a second ago.
"No worries, I'm not Jewish," I say with a smile, "and I love bacon."
Shelly nods and I help to get ready for breakfast. It seems to be pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon, as well as muffins with blueberries. There's also fruit cut up that Shelly puts in the fridge to stay fresh for the meal.
Assisting in getting ready, Clementine comes downstairs along with Dad and Luke and they help set up the table in the dining room which is next to the living room. I'm guessing that because yesterday was take-out we ate here at the kitchen island but now that we're having a real breakfast we eat at a fitting spot.
Azrael comes downstairs finally, and his eyes immediately find me before he smiles and says 'good morning' with his lovely being. The word buttercup chimes in my heard, earlier from when Shelly said it, and I can't find such a fitting word. He could be a blooming little yellow flower in this wintery day. I really could believe he is that. Then though, he notices Rafael, his father, and somewhat frowns. Well, glares coldly is a more accurate word.
Cold enough that winter knows fear.
Dad notices and goes with Clementine to set up the dining table while Azrael helps Shelly and I in the kitchen. Most of the food Shelly carries over to the dining room while she tells Azrael to start on the dishes in the sink while she gets the table ready. It's obvious that she's trying to keep Dad and Azrael apart as long as possible, as do the others. So again, I confirm that issue is between Azrael and his dad, and also the secret probably is the reason for the volatile situation.
Though, eventually we all gather at the dining table and sit down together to eat the breakfast. Though, no fights break out, thankfully, and there are no noticeable conversations that stick in my mind. Azrael and his dad do talk, but it's only random trivial things, such as how each other slept and also about the weather and whatnot.
After the meal, we all clean up the dining table and Duke and Dad go outside to try and shovel the snow in the vicinity of the front door. I hear Shelly talk to Dad, who I see a nametag of his saying his name as Rafael. So Rafael and Duke outside are working while everyone is inside.
Azrael disappears upstairs, and in the kitchen I help Shelly clean the kitchen. It's also a nice moment and occasion to ask her a question as two, as there's nobody around, and seems to slip an answer or two. I know Luke also slips an answer as well, but he's upstairs and not around.
"So, uh," I say as I put a dish I washed in the dish drainer, "I hope I'm not causing a stir that's resulting in Azrael acting strangely."
"Oh, no," says Shelly with a smile, "it's not your fault, don't worry about that."
"Are you sure?" I ask, pretending that I didn't have a conversation with Azrael upstairs last night.
"Yes, I'm sure," says Shelly reassuringly, "it's not you, I can assure you."
"What is it?" I ask the million-dollar question.
"Oh, well," says Shelly as her eyes go up and try to think about something else, "I don't think I should talk about it."
"Oh," I say as I know that I won't get anything more, and also that I may have pushed too much.
"It's," says Shelly as she sighs, "it's something between the two of them. Azrael and his father."
"Oh, well," I say as I finish up, "hopefully they figure it out."
"Let's hope so," agrees Shelly, though she seems skeptical of it ever happening.
After helping more, I go upstairs and pass by Azrael's bedroom while going to mine. I see him sitting on top of his bed while typing on his computer furiously. Spread out on bed as well is a multitude of papers and data.
He's working, which he shouldn't be doing.
I knock on the doorframe, and lean on the opposite side where I knock. Azrael looks up from his computer.
"Oh, hi, Hogarth," he says with a smile before looking back down and continuing to work.
"Did you enjoy breakfast?" he asks as I continue to lean on the doorframe.
"I did," I reply, "it was very relaxing."
"That's good," says Azrael, not looking up from his computer.
I stand there for a few seconds as he continues to type on the computer and work. Work, work, work...
"Um," I say as I clear my throat, "Azrael, are you working?"
"Yeah," answers Azrael, continuing to type, "just getting some stuff done."
"Well," I say as I lean off the doorframe and walk over to his bed, sitting own on the edge of it, "I'm afraid that I'm going to be the Dark Knight of your work."
"What?" asks Azrael looking up from his computer.
Gently, I reach forward and pull the computer out of his grip, without being mean. Looking at the screen, I see that the document being typed is saved before turning of the computer. Azrael lets out a yelp before he tries to reach for it, which I obviate by standing up and utilizing my taller height and holding it high over my head.
"Hogarth," says Azrael, and looks up at me sadly, which almost shatters my heart, "what are you doing?"
"Well," I say, trying to stay strong, "you're not supposed to be working, as it's vacation."
"It-it's not that much work," says Azrael as an excuse as he tries to reach up and grab the computer, which he really isn't able to.
"That's still working," I point out, "and I have to stop it."
Azrael jumps up once or twice, but isn't able to get it. He then stares at my torso that is stretched upward, and I think he contemplates tickling me to get it, as his hand moves up a little. I think of how that would be nice, but then he stops and then gives up.
"Alright, well," says Azrael, "when can I have my computer back?"
"Well," I say as I think how I really need to keep this thing in my hand out of his, "probably not until we're done with this vacation. Otherwise, you'd just work again."
Azrael pouts, which I feel my heart melt more, but then says, "Okay," defeatedly.
I nod, and then thinking for a moment, I go over to my room and put the computer of his in the dresser of mine. Next to my underwear, which I can imagine if Azrael tries to get his computer back will flush red as he moves my underwear out of the way to grab the computer. I actually want him to try so that I can hide somewhere in this room and watch him get florid just for fun.
Turning around, I see Azrael is in his room cleaning up the papers spread out on his bed and putting them back into the bag of his. I walk back over to his room and watch him finish cleaning up.
"You want to go outside and walk?" I suggest, "You can show me around the farm."
"Oh! Okay!" says Azrael, perking up, "I like that idea."
Grabbing our coats, we walk downstairs and pass by the living room where Clementine, Shelly, and Luke are sitting around the TV and the lit fireplace.
"We're going for a walk," says Azrael, "just around the yard."
"Okay," says Shelly, "be careful."
Azrael nods before he leads us to the back door, instead of the front. It looks similar to the front one, as it's wood and heavy. But not as ornate, and Azrael pulling it open reveals the winter landscape outside.
What I saw through the kitchen window earlier was nothing compared to this. The white snow has bejeweled the word in a million different shades of tinted white. Almost as if each part of the landscape was given the white snow and then allowed to put their own distinct hue to it. The trees have greener snow, while the shades of the landscape pull the snow into blue and darker colors. But where the sun his the snow seems to reflect the yellow-golden light and adds another world of beauty.
"Come on," says Azrael as he nods to the landscape, the wind blowing his hair a little, "let's go."
Even if the landscape in front of us wasn't refulgent with bitter winter's grandeur, I'd walk around anywhere with you.