I Waited on the Melting Snow While They Sang Her Birthday Song Chapter 02

I reached the foot of the mountain at seven the next morning.

Mr. Lawson, who watched over the trail, looked past me as soon as he saw me.

“Where are those three boys? Every other year, they’re fighting over who gets to carry your bag. How come I don’t see a single one of them today?”

“They’ll be here later.”

He glanced up at the sky. “Then you’d better hurry. It’s warm today. That last stretch of snow near the summit won’t last until evening.”

I nodded.

He hadn’t seen me head up the mountain alone in years. He gave me another look but didn’t ask anything else.

At the trailhead, a row of visitor tags hung from a rack.

Graham always insisted on taking mine, saying he was afraid I’d lose it.

Elliot used to tease him for trying to keep track of even my tag, while Miles would take advantage of their bickering to grab my backpack first.

Today, I took down only one of the four tags.

By the time I was halfway up the mountain, my right index finger had melted past the second knuckle.

I pulled off my glove. The wet fabric sagged, no longer filled by my shrinking hand.

Graham had knitted this pair of gloves for me.

That first year, he’d only known the simplest knitting stitch and had made the thumbs too tight. The old pair hurt to wear, but I couldn’t bear to replace it. It wasn’t until yesterday, when I could no longer wear it, that I’d finally switched to this pair.

My phone rang, and I hurried to answer with my left hand.

It was a video call from Lily.

She was standing on the beach, her eyes sparkling.

“Nora, look! The ocean really is blue!”

She turned the camera around. Elliot was taking pictures of her, Miles was holding her jacket, and Graham was carrying her shoes.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lily asked.

“It is.”

“How are things over there? Graham said you went hiking by yourself.”

I watched the damp patches spreading across my glove.

“Lily, can you put Elliot on?”

Her smile faltered for a second, but she handed him the phone.

The first thing Elliot said was, “You’re already up there? Didn’t I tell you last night not to rush?”

“The snow will be gone this afternoon. If you leave now, you can still make it.”

“Lily just got to the beach. She’s barely had any time to enjoy herself.”

“You can come. Graham and Miles can stay with her.”

“Why does it have to be me?” Elliot’s voice dropped. “The other two are right here, too.”

When he was little, he’d been terrified of hidden gaps beneath the snow. He used to cling to the hem of my coat with every step.

He wouldn’t follow until I’d gone ahead and packed down the snow for him.

Later, when he was older, he started leading the way. Even when he was far ahead, he’d turn around and call back to me.

“Nora, follow my footprints!”

“Because you’re the one who picked up the phone,” I told him.

He didn’t answer. After a while, he finally said, “Look, I’ve gotta go. Lily’s waiting for me to take more pictures.”

The video call ended.

I stuffed the soaked glove into my backpack and kept climbing.

At ten, Miles sent me a photo.

Lily was sitting on a rock by the ocean, holding a seashell.

Draped over her shoulders was Miles’s blue scarf.

I’d knitted that scarf for him when we were kids, and the stitches had come out terribly uneven.

He always called it ugly, but every year when we went up the mountain, he wore it.

Miles: [She got a little cold, so I let her borrow it for a while.]

Me: [Can you come?]

He replied almost immediately.

Miles: [I have to keep an eye on her. Those rocks are slippery, and she’s never been to the beach before.]

Me: [Graham and Elliot are there, too.]

No reply came for a long time.

Sunlight glistened on the melting snow near the summit.

I stopped at a fork in the trail and waited. Little by little, my left thumb began disappearing inside its glove, too.