It snowed for the first time last night. Of course, the snow melted before morning, but I was up a little late, reading in the Great Hall, and I looked outside and saw it and went outside to sit on the Great Hall steps. Once outside, I could hardly see any of it, because we have no outside lights, only some light slipping through the curtains of the windows of the Great Hall behind me, but I could hear the silence of the snow. I could smell it. I hadn't bothered to even put on my cloak. It wasn't even that cold.
June came out and joined me. I hadn't known she knew I was outside--she wasn't in the Great Hall when I came out. She wasn't wearing her cloak, either, and leaned against me for a bit. Sitting together like that felt illicit. We haven't been able to spend much time together all year.
"Are you glad you came?" I asked, meaning to the school.
"Are you glad I came?" she asked me, instead of answering.
"I wouldn't miss it," I said. "I miss you, though. But I think if you had not come I'd miss you more. This way, we have the same sky." Same sky, same culture, same friends (mostly) same home. I meant more than I was saying.
"Same snow."
"Yeah. You didn't answer my question."
"I'm glad," she acknowledged. "I think I would have lost you, otherwise."
"Is that the only reason?" I can't say she's wrong. I hope she is.
"No, but it's a reason, and it's a good reason. I like it here, but I don't need to be here. I need you, but I don't need this."
"I hope that changes," I told her. "I hope I don't stay the primary reason why you're here. I don't want you to come to resent me for keeping you from someplace you'd rather be."
"Give me some credit. If I had any thought that might happen, I wouldn't have married you. For one thing, if there's some place I decide I really want to be, I'll ask you to come with me. And we'll see how it goes."
"The year is almost over."
"Yes."
"We'll be able to spend as much time together as we like."
"Yes."
"Will you move into my room? Or should I move into yours?"
"Yours, I guess," she said. "You're more attached to your room, I guess. You've been in it longer. Do we have to move in?"
"Don't you want to?"
"Well, I was thinking we could alternate. They're small rooms, for two people to share."
"We could, I think, but you'd have to pay the room and board fee."
"You want me in your room, don't you?" she asked.
"Yes."
I sat, listening to the snow, feeling June's warmth against my arm and side, and thought about the day, years ago, when Ebony and I watched the snow in the light of a flashlight and how magical her sight, and the sight of her, seemed. I don't fall out of love, I don't think. I still find it sad that she and I didn't work out, even though June and I are an infinitely better match. I'm crazy about her. Wholly and truly. But the bittersweetness of the memory sharpened the sweetness of sitting with my beloved in the present tense, cast a beauty over it somehow. Also, my butt was getting cold.
I leaned my head on the top of June's head and we sat together like that until we began to shiver. Then we went inside.
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