Shivering

Short Story by Sophia S

After ten days of warm weather, she was now sitting there shivering. The cold front had come about suddenly, a wind from the north-west sweeping down from the mountains carrying with it the first snow of the season. She hadn't checked the weather that morning because she wasn’t expecting it to change so suddenly, so drastically, and so she was only wearing a sweater. And the sweater was more for fashion than warmth. The first flakes of snow fell from the sky, dusting the ground for a split second before melting.

God, can this bus get here quicker? she thought. It was late, dark, cold, and she just wanted to get home. The bench was freezing. It’s too cold for this.

She tucked her hands under her arms and buried her chin into her chest. Violent shakes rocked her body. I’m going to get hypothermia at this rate!

“Are you okay?” She looked up. A man wearing a scarf wrapped around his face and a hat tucked low over his forehead had walked up to her. He wore a puffer and jeans. Did I miss the memo or something?

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. I’m just waiting for the bus.” She said.

He sat down on the other side of the bench. “You seem cold.” “No shit.”

The man pulled down his scarf. “Uh, mind if I smoke?”

“No, go ahead.” Her teeth chattered.

“Ma’am, are you sure you’re fine?”

“Oh my god, don’t ma’am me, we’re like the same age.”

“Just being polite,” He smiled. He stuck the cigarette between his lips and cupped his hand around the end, flicking his lighter a few times before it lit and caught. He took a drag. The smoke billowed out from his mouth, streaming out into the snow that was drifting down. He hit the cigarette again. His eyes flicked over to her and he reached it out to her.

“Oh, I don’t smoke.”

“You were staring.”

She turned her eyes to face the road. “Sorry.”

The world was quiet. Snow began to accumulate on the ground, a fine covering of white.

There were no people on the sidewalks, few cars on the road. It was just her. And the man.

Where is the bus?

“Where’s the bus?” The man asked.

“I-I was just thinking that. I don’t know. It should be here by n-now.”

“You’re freezing.”

“No shit.” She gritted out. She couldn’t feel her fingers. Or her toes. Or her nose. “Take my jacket.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’ll catch a cold.” He was already taking off his puffer.

“Put that back on. That’s a myth.”

He put the jacket on the seat between them. “Well, you’ll get frostbite.”

She huddled deeper into herself. I’m not taking his jacket.

He lit another cigarette. His sweater was cable-knit, blue, warm. He leaned back, blowing the smoke up into the air.

Freaking fine.

She snatched the jacket and put it on. It was so warm. Oh my god.

He laughed. She buried her head in her hands. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just funny that you’re stubborn about literally staying warm.”

“What else am I supposed to do? Just accept a jacket from a random guy at a bus stop?”

He looked at her, his cigarette a spot of red in the night. “Well, you’ve done that already.”

“Well. I didn’t want frostbite.”

He put out his cigarette. “Smart cookie.” Her heart lurched. Aw hell. His brows

furrowed. “Did I do something?”

“No, that’s just something my mom used to say.”

“Shoot. I’m sorry.”

“It was a while ago.”

“It doesn’t hurt any less. Time can’t heal everything.”

She looked over at him. He was staring out into the white darkness. “...Yeah. It can’t.”

His eyes flicked to her face. She wondered what he saw. Did he see all the things shemissed, all the things she had lost? Eyes were the windows to the soul. Maybe he saw her dreams, her aspirations. Maybe he saw her failures.

Maybe he saw her.

His eyes turned back to the road.

She looked away.

“...I’m checking where the bus is.” He said.

“Okay.”

Her heart beat. A steady thump-thump, thump-thump. It beat even when it shouldn’t.

“It says this bus route has been canceled.”

She almost broke down. “Goddammit.”

“We could call Uber?”

“...Yeah, I should call Uber.”

She took out her phone. Opened the app. Called her ride. She assumed he was doing the same. “My ride will be here in ten minutes.”

“Fifteen for mine.”

She gazed out into the snow. It was really coming down. Big fat flakes, like frozen tears. Just like that night. Her heart beat faster.

“Is everything okay?”

With his question, she realized she was gripping her legs, digging her fingers in. She loosened her grasp. “Yeah, everything is fine.” What a liar.

“...Okay.”

She kept staring at the snow. At the road. It wasn’t the same road. That road had been a back country road. She had been going too fast around a turn. Her wheels had lost traction and they had gone spinning out and into a tree. It had been a blinding white blur, a loud roaring screech, and then there had only been screaming. It had been her screaming. There had been no screaming from her mother.

Her fault.

“You’re not okay. You’re crying.”

She turned to him. The tears from her eyes were being squeezed out by the violent

pounding of her heart. He looked so concerned.

A car pulled up in front of the bus stop. It had the little Uber light on it. She took the

puffer off and put it on the bench between them.

She stood up abruptly, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for the jacket.”

She got into the car.

He faded from view, into the swirling snow.