Chapter 116

#Chapter 116 – Snow Day “Mama.”

I blink, my son’s little voice waking me what feels way too early on a Tuesday morning. “Mama, wake up,” Alvin says again.

“Baby,” I murmur. “What time is it?”

“It’s 5 o’clock,” he says, and I groan, turning my head back into my pillow.

“Come back later, baby,” I say. “Mama’s still sleeping.”

“But mama,” a new voice says. My other son. My other demon, I think, cruel in this moment as my sleep is stripped from me. “Mama, it has snowed.”

At this, I open one eye. “Really?” I ask, curious. My two boys are there, looming over me, nodding their sleep-touseled heads excitedly. “How much?”

“Sooooo much!” Alvin shouts, spreading his arms wide, as if to encompass all the snow in the universe.

“Buckets and buckets of snow!” Ian says, laughing and jumping to his feet, bouncing on my bed.

I laugh with him, unable to help it, and sit up to peer out my window. I gasp at what I see.

The boys are right – at least two full feet of snow cover the landscape. The trees are heavy with it, their boughs sinking towards the ground under their alabaster burden.

“Oh my god,” I say, turning wide eyes towards my boys and pretending a seriousness I don’t actually feel. “Boys, you know what this means right?” I keep my face grave.

“What.” Ian says as he stops bouncing, suddenly worried.

“Can’t we go make a snowman?” Alvin says, equally concerned.

“It means,” I say, ominously. And then, quick as a snake, I snatch each of them by the waist, yelling and pulling them down to the bed. “Snow apocalypse! Snow day forever! So much snow we’ll never get out!”

The boys laugh hysterically, riotously, as I tickle them – kicking and screaming with the pure simple joy of a little boy’s snow day.

I laugh along with them, newly excited for the day. I lay back against my pillow, still laughing, but let them catch their breath.

“What does it really mean, mama,” Alvins says, catching his breath first.

“It means everything will slow down today,” I say, shrugging. “There’s too much snow for anyone to do anything or go anywhere, so the whole city will take a break. Everyone will stay home and have a lovely, luxurious snow day.”

The boys cheer with excitement as I pull myself out of bed. “Come on,” I say, heading for my door.

“Let’s go make our snow day breakfast.”

As I pull together the breakfast, the boys ask a million questions about what they’ll do today. I am pleased by the prospect of it – they’ve only had one snow day before, on Christmas, and today is their first real snow. I want them to do it all – sledding, hot cocoa, snowball fights. Skating, if we can manage it.

“Can papa come?” Ian asks, shoveling down his cereal at a record pace.

“Of course,” I answer, grabbing my phone to text him. I had sent him a text last night, but so far it goes unanswered.

Evelyn: Victor, please text me when you wake up. The doctor told me you’ll be fine – you just need sleep – but I’m worried. Please let me know you’re okay.

“Can grandpapa?” Alvin asks, equally bright, distracting me from my phone. “And Uncle Rafe and Mimi and Bridgette?”

I hesitate at this one, and he sees it.

“Pleaaaaaaseeee,” Alvin pleads, Ian joining in.

“Come on, mama,” Ian says, his eyes wide. “We just want to spend our snow day with our whole family.”

I sigh. “Fine!” I say, acquiescing. It’s their day, after all. I tap out another text to Victor.

Evelyn: Are you up?

A few moments later and I breathe a sigh of relief as a reply comes.

Victor: Yes, sorry. Just woke up. Very groggy today – but I’m fine. I’m sorry to have given you a scare.

Evelyn: It’s okay. Glad you are better. Snow day today! The boys want everyone to participate, so get your butts out in the yard asap.

I don’t have to wait long for a response.

Victor: Aye aye, captain. All hands on deck.

Two hours later, the boys bolt across the yard, looking like two happy little marshmallow men in their puffy snow suits. As promised, Victor and his family are there, ready for us.

The day surprises everyone by being a lovely affair, with everyone getting along more than Evelyn thought possible. The boys spend half their time outside getting so cold and wet that they can’t feel their fingers anymore. When that happens, they come inside to be wrapped in blankets by their grandmother and fed so much cocoa with marshmallows that Evelyn doesn’t know how they can stand it.

Victor glories in the day, indulging the boys in their every whim. If they want to sled, they sled, with Archie chasing them down the hill with every pass. When the boys want to build a fort and have a snowball fight, he orders the Beta team to build the most impressive fort they can against them. Then, Victor and the boys together assault the Beta fort and the Betas, Evelyn sees, graciously lose.

She laughs, looking at them out the window, as the sky starts to grow dark. Then, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, Evelyn goes outside. “Come on, boys!” She calls to the three. “It’s growing late, time for dinner.”

With only a bit of chagrin – for they are tired – the boys all trudge in, again soaked to the bone with melted snow.

Evelyn helps Ian and Alvin off with their gear and begins to prepare their plates of dinner.

“Can we eat with pop pop?” Alvin asks, watching her spoon macaroni onto his plate.

“If he would like you to,” Evelyn says, looking at Alvin curiously out of the corner of her eye.

“He does!” Ian says, grabbing his plate and carrying it into the living room, where their grandfather is watching the news on television. Alvin follows eagerly after. Henry, earlier in the day, had asked to be transferred into his favorite comfortable recliner. Ian climbs onto one of its wide arms and Alvin onto the other, each settling their plates on their knees.

“Be careful, you two,” their grandfather says, eyeing their plates suspiciously. “I don’t want you to drop any food on me.”

“We won’t!” Alvin says, smiling at him.

“We eat to fast to drop any,” Ian says, and indeed, the boys shovel the food into their mouths at an almost-alarming pace.

The three sit together peacefully for a while, watching TV, when Ian catches Alvin’s eye. Alvin nods.

“Pop pop,” Ian says quietly. “Can we have some of the tea that Uncle Rafe made for papa? We want to be good chess players too.”

“Yeah,” Alvin continues. “We want to be like the Russian grand masters.”

Their grandfather laughs, pleased. “Of course you can. I’ll have him make you a cup. I am glad to see that you two are taking interest in such a worthwhile pursuit.”

He begins to turn to call to Rafe, but Ian stops him. “Pop pop, can you ask him to make me the tea that was in his cup?”

His grandfather frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

Alvin shrugs. “We looked at the cups after the game,” he says, scraping his fork on the plate to get the last bits of food. He wrinkes his nose and looks at his grandfather. “Daddy’s smelled funny.”

His grandfather frowns, studying him. Then he turns his attention back to the TV, not watching it, but rather staring at it as he goes over, again, the events of the game in his mind. He hadn’t originally considered that perhaps the results were skewed in Rafe’s favor…

Henry had expected Rafe to win because he had been training Rafe all week for the, so Henry hadn’t been surprised – like the rest of them – when Rafe turned out victorious. But is it possible that Rafe had other tricks up his sleeve?

Henry doesn’t notice, then, that the boys don’t ask again for the cup of tea. Of course, they hadn’t really wanted it in the first place.

“Pop pop,” Ian says next, casually resting his head close to his grandfather’s on the chair. “Why don’t you like our mommy?”

Henry grows quiet, a little embarrassed. He doesn’t quite know how to answer such a question.

“It’s okay, pop pop,” Alvin says, looking at him sweetly. “You can tell us. We just want to know.”

“Well,” Henry sputters, backed into a bit of a corner. “It’s not that I don’t like your mother – she’s done an exceedingly good job with you two –“

“We heard you call her our surrogate,” Ian says casually, looking at the television. “What’s a surrogate?”

Henry almost blushes at this – he hadn’t been aware they were listening at the wedding.

“Well – that’s a very complicated thing –“ He says, uncomfortable.

“We love you so much, pop pop,” Alvin says softly. “And we love our mama too. Do you think, for us, you could try a little harder to love her?”

Henry, against his better judgement, feels his heart soften a little at this. He surveys his two grandsons – clever, charming, heartfelt boys. He has to admit, that woman really has done a wonderful job raising them. “Well,” he says, persuaded – just a tiny bit – even to be in these boys better graces – “perhaps I have behaved poorly to her, and you have seen that. I will comport myself better in the future.”

“Okay, pop pop,” Alvin says, smiling.

What none of the three know is that Victor is standing, quiet as a puma, behind them, listening to every word.

He frowns, concerned and intrigued. What is it that these boys are up to?