Chapter 14 #2
Redheads are always portrayed in the worst ways in books and on-screen.
We’re given that horrid stepchild persona.
Or shown as kids who are ugly, or dumb, or irritating.
Once in a while, a show like Riverdale will come around and showcase actual hot redheads, but I’ve spent most of my life hating my hair color and feeling pretty resentful that I’m not a leggy, sultry, tan blonde.
“Having a kid with red hair drove my mother nuts. She’d be carrying me around in a store or pushing me in a stroller, and strangers would stop her and, without permission, reach down and touch my curls.
She never knew what to do because it was so creepy and violating.
Then, when I was old enough to walk around, it got even worse because people would then not only grab me, but they’d also lean in too close and ask rather aggressively, ‘Where’d you get your red hair?
’ Such a weird question, right? And I’d try to give a genetic explanation about my mother’s grandmother while my own mother fumbled awkwardly, both trying to protect me and feeling societally forced to be polite.
But it was all stupid. Today, she and I would have told everyone to shut the fuck up and to not touch anyone’s child.
Sorry. Too much?” I’ve never told anyone this.
“Not in the least. But I’m sorry. It never would have occurred to me that you people with the envious hair have not been utterly worshipped.
People are stupid.” She grabs me in. When we are browsing through scarves, Anj says, “Also, sorry if that got awkward earlier. With the boys wanting attention from you about your socials.”
“No, it’s all good. I’m the one who is likely a misfit. You’re the one who is a legend.” I wave away her lost look. “Took thirty seconds to find videos of you hauling traps like a beast, not to mention all the articles about you paving the way for women in this industry. Damn impressive.”
“Fucking search engines,” she says with a laugh.
“I’m sorry.” I drop my head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have looked.”
Everyone’s info is so goddamn available now that it doesn’t occur to me sometimes that I shouldn’t search for it. That it’s gross to do so.
She waves a hand and winks. “Nah, it’s fine. And maybe some love here and there is not bad. I did work my ass off.” She glances at my cast. “Did you want some help shopping?”
It’s hard to admit it, but yes. “I guess I was hoping to find stuff to make dinner. Dave has been so good to me, and it’d be nice to do something in return. I don’t really cook, so maybe just some pasta and sauce. A good jarred one.”
“Ugh, he’s been so pissy and cold for so long. We like this new him.” She leads me into a specialty market and seemingly throws random stuff into a cart.
“He’s not usually, like, fun and relaxed?” I ask, surprised.
She practically snorts as she stops at a fish and meat counter and orders a few things. “Dave? No. Cranky bastard. Well, life hits, right?”
Life does hit, yes.
She pivots and grins. “But not since he came back from Puerto Rico and casually mentioned you. After we all pressed him, of course. Naming names was a big fucking deal. And now we all know you’re the reason he’s not such a curmudgeonly nightmare.”
“We’re not … it was a vacation thing,” I explain.
“Ah, yes, I’m sure.”
“He felt sorry for me. I’m just renting his place now.”
“Let’s go with that.”
My cart is loaded up with all sorts of unfamiliar stuff that Anj has picked out, but at least I seem to have a new friend.
I tap her arm. “Anj? I appreciate all those nice things you said about me. About Dave. But he wasn’t looking at me tonight. He was looking at that father and son.”
She stops in place and shrugs. “Fine. Maybe not this time, but I promise you that he’s not been himself recently. But in the best way possible.”
After we check out and she helps get stuff into my car, she asks, “Coffee this week?” She adds as she thumps my ride, “Sexy beast, this one. Nice choice!”
Before I have time to react, Dave shows up, and Anj groans at his look.
“Ugh, Serious Dave is back. And he’s the worst eavesdropper ever. Pathetic.” But she playfully bats his arm. “Like I didn’t see you following us for the past ten minutes.”
He was following us? Overheard that whole conversation?
He shrugs. “I was worried. Sorry to break things up, but there’s some kind of scary winter ice storm coming. Wet snow is headed here very soon, and that’s just what’s starting us off.” Dave points to the darkening sky.
“Well, I’ll leave now,” Anj concedes. But she pats me on the shoulder. “Talk soon? But he’s right. Do get out of here.”
I wave as she gets in her car and takes off.
“You’ll head home now too?” Dave asks. “Follow me home, yes?”
“Of course.”
After I check the forecast on my weather app, I agree that it sort of sucks, but I ignore it, as I feel certain that I’ve got time. It’s not as though Boston’s never had a storm or a hundred, so I’ve got this.
It’s now super cold out, but I have to take a moment to gaze at the boats in the winter ocean, relaxing until the pure ocean breeze slaps my face and about knocks me over, and I giggle against the cold.
The sky—suddenly delivering such beautiful, giant snowflakes and wild winds—is impossible not to watch, to revel in.
I am held prisoner by the near-instant snow and how it coats this town in layers of crisp icy-cotton white. It’s beyond beautiful.
Some needling voice in the back of my head compels me to call Katrina, and I’m amazed when she picks up. It’s too hard for us to talk to each other. Our connections to Patrick were both so strong.
Beyond a perfunctory hello, neither of us can talk for a minute.
I cup my hand over my mouth and try not to choke. “Katrina …”
“I know,” she replies, immediately equally emotional.
It takes me a bit to regain my composure, but finally, I can talk without crying.
“Last summer, Patrick mentioned something to me. Something I didn’t understand at the time and forgot to ask him about, but I think I need to know now.
I think it was important. Do you know what he meant by snow kisses? ”
“I do.” Her smile practically reaches through the phone while her voice is also so full of the fucking heartbreak she doesn’t deserve.
“Patrick and I went on our first date sometime in early December that freshman year, and it started to snow. I made some grumpy noise or remark about how I hated it, so Patrick told me he would make it his mission that winter to find me anytime it snowed. To kiss me during that grotesque weather so that every time the sky unleashed that cold mess, I would be happy about it. And he did it every time. I’d get texts and calls to meet him, and I’d show up.
Every time. Even if we could just meet for a few seconds.
A quick, delightful kiss, and then back to work.
So then, I welcomed snow because it meant there would be special kisses. ”
It’s so beautiful and so them.
She sighs contentedly at the memory. “Why do you ask?”
I swirl around in this wistful weather. “Patrick told me that this vacation guy is my snow kisses person. My Katrina.”
“Ah, that New Friend Dave?” It’s nice to hear a little fun in her voice.
“He told you about him?”
“He did indeed. Diana? Go get your snow kisses. Go get your Katrina. Neither is to be missed. I wouldn’t have traded my snow kisses nor my Patrick for anything.”
I stand in the harsh weather for a moment before I ask. “Can I do anything for you? Would you like me to come out there? I’d love to see you and Tommy.”