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I keep my arms wrapped around him, making sure he knows I’m here. I want him to feel loved and comfortable and know that no matter what he tells me, I’m not going to leave.
“Maybe when we leave here, you can try to talk to him, repair your relationship,” I suggest, not trying to push him, but knowing he needs his dad. He’s the only family he has left.
“Yeah, maybe,” he replies, letting out a hard sigh again.
We both fall silent, our eyes gravitating to the window as the snow continues to fall. It has slowed down, and seems to stop randomly, only to pick back up again overnight. It’s the kind of snow skiers and snowboarders dream about. Light and fluffy, soft for landings.
I think about Badger Creek, wondering if the mountains are open again, wondering if people are skiing as if the avalanche didn’t happen. For tourists, it didn’t. They don’t live here so it’s like this elusive mystery people talk about but never witness. They go on enjoying their vacation, going home to their families with stories to tell about all the runs they did and how one time an avalanche happened where they skied. It’s almost like an urban legend, a fairy tale of sorts.
“I think it’s almost Christmas,” I say, breaking the silence. “I’m still not sure how long we’ve been out here, but it has to be getting close. It might even be today.”
“It could be,” Alex replies, “I’ve lost track of the days too. Funny because we try to mark them down, but I still have no clue.”
“Is it weird?”
“What’s that?” Alex asks.
“Not knowing what day of the week it is or even what time it is.”
“Yeah, I never thought I’d be without my phone for this long. I realize how much I rely on it now that I don’t have it.”
Again we stop talking, both of us trying to figure out just how long we’ve been out here and if a rescue crew is coming. It’s always on our minds even if we don’t say it out loud. I can see it on Alex’s face, the worry slipping through, and he quickly shakes his head, a smile pulling at his lips.
“What?” I ask, cuddling up to him.
“Why don’t we celebrate Christmas?” he says, sounding a little happier after the solemness of our conversation.
“How?” I ask, sitting up and waiting to hear him out. It might be kind of fun to do something other than collect wood, keep the fire going and dream about eating something other than old canned food.
“Let’s come up with gifts. I’ll see if I can cut down a tree,” Alex tells me, immediately standing up, grabbing his clothes and getting dressed.
I follow his lead, pulling on the clothes that are strewn around the floor, and I begin looking for things I can either make into a gift or decorate a tree with.
I watch Alex grab the old axe from where we leave it in the corner near the door. “I’m going to go chop us down a good ol’ fashion Christmas tree.” There’s a huge smile on his face and when he looks over at me, it feels like something inside me lights up. His happiness is my happiness now. We make each other happy.
“Just make sure nothing’s living in it!” I call as he opens the door, the cold air blowing through the cabin.
“What? You don’t want a pet?” Alex jokes, winking at me as he closes the door.
I begin to look through the cabin for things we can use to make it sort of look like a Christmas tree. Obviously we won’t have lights or real ornaments, but there has to be some things in the cabin we can use.
When we were ransacking the place originally, we found a tackle box and some fishing equipment. Nothing that we would actually be able to use to fish since there are no poles and we have no idea where a water source is, but I know there were a few of those fake looking worms and shit.
I pull the box from the closet, taking out the fishing line and several of the rubbery, glittery looking fake bait. I set it on the little kitchen table, adding to it some clothespins that were in one of the kitchen drawers.
I come across some tinfoil that was shoved in the back of the pantry, up high on one of the shelves. I tear off a small sheet, forming it into a ball and adding it to the pile of crap I have on the table. I make a couple more, but I don’t want to use too much of the foil in case we need it for something else. Sort of like some weird MacGyver shit or whatever.
About twenty minutes later, Alex kicks open the door, hauling in a sad looking evergreen tree. It’s totally like something out of Charlie Brown and I absolutely love it. It’s nearly dead and missing most of the branches, but it’s the perfect size for the cabin and when we’re done, we can use it for firewood.
“What do you think?” Alex asks, standing it up, knocking some of the snow off the branches. It scatters to the floor, melting quicker than I expect it to.
“I love it!” I squeal, throwing my arms around him. “It’s so sad and stupid looking, but totally perfect.”
Alex laughs at my description. “It feels like you have a soft spot for stupid shit. Remember when I made you that pancake-whipped cream birthday cake concoction?”
“Oh my god, how could I forget. That was the grossest birthday cake anyone has ever made me. I’ll never forget it.”
“And we have the saddest, stupidest Christmas tree to add to that list of crappy things I have given you.”
