It was snowing outside, slow, tender flakes, that twirled around, mimicking falling leaves caught in a breeze. From the safe enclosure of a building, the scene was beautiful and enchanting, but the bitter, cold vapors of England air had a way of burrowing under many layers of clothing and right into the depths of the soul, causing anything with a pulse to rush to the refuge of a warm fire.

          In Sylvia’s dim-lit room on Fitzroy Road, no one was gazing out the window, snuggled with a warm cup of tea, enjoying the scenery. In fact, the curtains were drawn, only allowing small slivers of light to peek through. It was just enough light to cast curious shadows and reveal the smoky cloud that had suspended in the air.

          Sylvia lay on the bed, curled up like a cat, with a cigarette pressed to her lips, which were rounded into an o; small smoke rings blew out one by one, curling up into the abyss, which she found comfort in, almost like a small piece of the blackness surrounding her soul was escaping with those hazy, caliginous rings, escaping to an unknown destination.

          She had only been smoking for a few months, but she had wanted a new need, needed a new want. The incessant internal gnawing had finally nibbled through, opening her to new thoughts; unhealthy, irrational thoughts.

          She rolled over on the bed, pulling the blanket that was wrapped around her into a tangled mess around her legs, and snubbed the cigarette out slowly, grinding it until it smashed like an accordion, and the smell was so intoxicating that she almost decided to light another, but instead just laid there, her arm reaching out into the ashtray on the side table, looking like a falling rock climber reaching out for help.

          I’ve got to get up, she thought, and in her mind she made the effort, but her body showed no signs of complying. She was lost in loathing, lost to the present world, and couldn’t help but engulf herself in a haunting memory of the past, a memory she had lived five months prior.

          It was a hot July day, one that caused such profuse sweating that clothes were no longer crisp and figure skimming, but limp and dowdy. Though the stifling heat had no effect on Sylvia who was sailing along the Devon coastline highway with the windows of her car rolled down, and her hair flying about. Her mother, Aurelia, was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the line of green trees that hugged the road. Each was lost in her own thoughts, enjoying the quiet solitude.

          After their short drive, they reached the house and went inside. They were giggling as they walked through the door into the kitchen, reminiscing about the past, but something undetectable quieted their giggles into small, inaudible noises. The house had a peculiar, airy quality to it, like something was changed, but everything was exactly how it had been when they left.

       “Ted….Are you up there?” Sylvia called up the stairs as she set some bags on the counter.

       “You’re home already?” He yelled back quickly, trying to sound casual.

       “Yeah, the shopping didn’t take as long as we thought.” But in truth, Sylvia had rushed through her shopping, hoping to get home before she said she would, in order to get a glimpse of what her husband did in her absence. She wondered why she couldn’t lift the weight though, wondered why the sickness in her stomach was still nagging.

        Ringgggg! Ringgggg! The phone on the kitchen wall let out a shrill, announcing its presence. Sylvia looked at the phone and then to Aurelia. She had a feeling she needed to make it to the phone before Ted.

        “Don’t bother, Sylvia….It’s for me!” Ted yelled from up the stairs. The thump, thump of his shoes on the floor, running towards the stairs, echoed in Sylvia’s head. Time slowed down until it felt like it was  almost at a stop, and everything Sylvia saw slowed down with it. She paced toward the phone, flipping her hair out of her face, swinging her arms rhythmically, each step feeling eloquent and concise. Thump! Thump! Ted’s feet plopped on the floor above her like a dancing elephant; they were nearing the steps. She whipped her head towards the stairs and then back at the phone. She stared at it, determined to get there first.

        “Don’t worry about it, Sylvia, I got it!” He yelled, again.
         But it was too late. She was mere inches from the phone, her hand was reaching up to grab it, and then the elephant steps turned into a stampede. Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. Ted’s limbs were flailing in all directions as he slid down the stairs on his ass, looking about as graceful as a man in high heels. He came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, his legs spread apart, hands on the floor between them, slumped over like a stringless marionette.

        Ringggg! The phone was practically begging for her to cradle it. She picked up the receiver and tucked it between her head and her neck, all the while staring at her husband, not looking away from his panic-stricken eyes.

        “Hello?” She spoke into the phone, as she watched Ted stand up slowly.
        “Err, uhh, is Mr. Hughes in?” An obviously disguised woman’s voice rattled through Sylvia’s skull. Who is that, she wondered. Then it struck her, like a punch in the nose, so painful and tear provoking. It was Assia, their old flat mate. Sylvia had always sensed that they were flirtatious with each other but Ted just told her that she was paranoid, and she had almost begun to believe it.
         “Oh, you want to talk to my husband?” Sylvia yelled into the phone, her voice wavering slightly. “Just a  minute…

         ” She held out the phone to Ted. He reached forward, grabbed the phone, and turned his back to her.

         “Hello? Uh-Huh…Yeah….Ok….Well, now is not a good time…Sounds good…Bye.” He put the phone on the base and turned around, letting out a heavy sigh. “Who was that?” Sylvia asked almost maniacally.

         “It was just one the girls from my class,” he said,
         “She had a question about a lecture.”

          “I don’t believe you,” Sylvia said accusingly. “It was Assia, wasn’t it? I knew something was going on between the two of you and you made me feel like I was a nut job!”
          Sylvia was screaming now, and Aurelia  
      inconspicuously slid out the room, not only to escape the awkward scene, but to check up on her  grandchildren who were napping upstairs.
          The anger flowed out of Sylvia like blood from a fresh wound. She felt helpless and enraged. She felt as if  she could strangle Ted. She stomped over to the phone, wrapped both fists around the cord and yanked. The sound of splinters forming and the wall cracking was followed by the loud smash of the telephone on the ground. She threw the receiver at Ted, hitting him in the thigh.

          “There! Let’s see if she calls you again!” She gave him a glare, and stormed out of the room.

          The memories that followed were faded by salty tears and bitter anger that caused the days to flow together like an endless nightmare. Soon after that day, though,Ted moved out and Sylvia eventually got her own flat in London, but the yelling from that day still echoed in her head. She wondered how she had been so naïve to Ted’s womanizing ways. She ached for a sense of peace, a way to mute the memory.

          But the howling December winds soothed Sylvia. It made her feel that nature itself was conflicted and not just her. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and onto the cold floor and sat up. She walked over to the heavy curtains and flung them open, stirring up the dust in the air, and leaned her forehead on the cold window pane. Feeling a familiar urge, she reached onto her desk grabbing a pencil and a piece of scrap paper. She put the paper on the window, illuminating it, and on the top she wrote, words heard, by accident, over the phone…

        “What’s the big deal? You know I’ll pay you back.”

        “You still haven’t paid me back from the last time I loaned you money. I’m not giving you a dime.”

        “You’re a punk, Jason. You know that? That’s why I beat you up in fourth grade.”

        “Yeah right, I killed you!” Josh and Evan chuckled as we bickered back and forth. I’m sure the other patrons heard us, and thought round two was imminent. Before it came, Josh handed me a five-dollar bill. Jason and I still debate over who won that fight in elementary school. We have always had a sibling-like rivalry. I suppose that’s why, years later, he is my daughter’s godfather.

         We finally got our food and sat down to eat. The bright red vinyl seats were thrones compared to the backless metal benches our classmates were sitting on. The four of us joked about all the other students stuck with bland cafeteria food. You would’ve thought we were eating gourmet meals.

         I savored every morsel of my Junior Bacon Cheeseburger and Biggie fries. For months I had strived to abide by the countless constraints adults place on children, and breaking away from that was like stepping outside for the first time. With every bite, a sense of free will and independence grew inside of me. I wanted to lock the feeling in.

         “We have to leave,” said Josh, after he emptied his tray’s contents into the trash bin.

         “We got time, man. Let me finish.” I was the only one still eating. I chewed slowly, enjoying every bite.

         Jason slammed his fist on the table. “Dammit, Gabe! You wanna get caught?”

         “Put your booger in your pocket and let’s go!” Evan’s accidental mispronunciation of the word burger took the attention away from me. Jason let out his cackle of a laugh, and we began to tease Evan ruthlessly. I  was thankful for the distraction, because I could finish my food without any hassle.

          We were still laughing at Evan when we stepped outside and hopped on the bikes. I asked what time it was, and the three of them looked at each other blankly.

          “Great. None of you geniuses brought a watch?”

          “Shit, we better hurry. I think we’re late,” said Jason. His words threw fear and reality straight to my stomach. I grabbed the LowRider and took off. We blazed past the cemetery, caught a green light, and crossed Hampden. Even with the head start, I dropped into last place again. The distance between them and me kept growing, and I began to picture Ms. Betz smiling wickedly as she kicked me out of school. Just  as we reached the bike path (the halfway point), Josh slowed down until I caught up to him.

          “Here, take my bike,” he said. “You shouldn’t have come, Gabe.”

          “Why do you say that?”

          “Because you have a lot more to lose than we do. That’s why we didn’t tell you.” I paused and watched  him pedal off atop the LowRider. To this day, Josh has never wavered in his loyalty and altruism. I was as grateful for his friendship then as I am now.

          I was still in last place as we sped past Jason’s house, through the parking lot, and skidded into Holm’s bike rack. We clambered over the fence and sprinted to the schoolyard.

          What I saw then made me want to sing. Students were still outside, waiting for the bell to ring.

          Josh, Jason, Evan, and I slowed our pace to a walk, which turned into a swagger. No words were spoken on that dirt field leading to the school. We simply glanced at each other’s faces, trading congratulatory nods and satisfied smiles.

          The four of us had taken control of our own lives, if only for twenty-six minutes. We felt like men. Masters of our fate. Owners of our destiny. Men. Men who laugh at the word booger…