Part 9: Sweet Talk.

The following days after that night with Timothy was spent with a numb sense of accomplishment for finally finding something to live and strive for. Even as the nights gave way to snowy days, I knew that Timothy would be there during the coldest of nights to keep me from freezing myself into an early grave. It became a habit of sorts; that he wouldn’t even have to knock for me to know of his presence, yet we never spoke of this outside of those nights, even if I did have the pleasure of seeing him during the day.

Timothy was graduating high school in the spring, and was looking for a suitable college to house him. He was a smart lad, knowing how to manipulate words carefully so as to get his way, which made him a wanted item for every college. I wondered what kind of man he would become, and how he would lead his future. It wasn’t hard to tell that whatever he was to get involved with, he would work hard to keep it.

Towards mid December, I took another journey to the lake at the bottom of the hill. Of course, with all the snow and below freezing temperatures, most of the hill had been covered in a sheet of ice, to which I discovered quickly. After few attempts to walk down the hill with caution, I took a leap of faith, and spent the rest of the trip to the bottom, sliding. The icy wind whipped snow into my face, having to shield myself as I came closer and closer to the bottom. Once I reached to bottom, I walked out onto the snow covered beach, and watched the sun beginning to set.

I was mesmerised by the beauty that was in that small moment, it almost left me breathless. It was hard to image that this, my place of solitude, was so close to the place that I called hell. Why would they be so close to one another? Was it to examine the true beauty of both? I did not know, but figured that the answer was not something I even cared to wonder more of. The longer I stood there, being exposed to the cold winds and weather, the more I realized how long this winter was to be.

“C’mon,” I heard Timothy say, his voice not raising above a whisper, “time to get you home before you freeze.” I hadn’t been standing there long, but I figured that with the added time that walking up the ice covered hill would create, that by time I got back I would indeed be frozen stiff. I turned to see Timothy, standing close, almost guarding in a way, from something, or someone. “What?” I asked, feeling my own disapproval at his stiff and statuesque position; I was in no need of guarding.

“I just...” he paused for a moment, and looked down at me, biting his lips. “You just what?” I asked, feeling the burning heat of my temper rise within me; I was not one to ever grow angry of anything, but Timothy was one I never expected to act so strangely. He wrapped his arms around me, breaking from his stiff stature, and kissed the top of my head. “I just worry for you Emily, what are you going to do when I’m gone?” His words were soft, and held concern, but I felt no need to comfort him; maybe a harsh reality would awaken him from whatever mental state he was in.

“I’m going to have to find some other way of keeping warm I suppose,” I muttered into his shoulder, at a feeble attempt to bring sarcasm into the conversation. It didn’t work, for Timothy released me from his hug, and looked at me seriously. I stared back, noticing his face turn from an angry-worry, to just worry.

“I love you,” he said, with no sarcasm in his voice. His eyes seemed to gleam as he said those words, as if he was speaking for some greater being. His voice sounded strong and firm, like it had been held back for so long that he had no problem with allowing the words to flow out in a perfect, harmonic way.

“Why?” I asked, too afraid to say much else, “you barely know me.” Which was a legitimate enough of a statement; he had been keeping me from freezing to death during the cold winter nights, there had been no other reason for his presence. I could see him hesitate, before taking in a deep breath, releasing a sigh, taking a moment to collect his jumbled thoughts.