SHORT STORY: "Warmth in the Winter" By Christina Taragjini

“Warmth in the Winter”

By Christina Taragjini 

     The snow fell on the already icy road with a determination that was unbreakable. The steady amount dropped from the heavens and created a stark white blanket over the sky. The 2012 Volvo S60, driving along the newly hidden path, stuck out like a sore thumb. Its deep black paint color made it distinguishable from miles away, but the fresh wax reflected the white light and intensified its pure aura. He sat behind the leather steering wheel, scarred with centimeter- thick grooves meant for finger placement. The new air-freshener embraced the vehicle’s interior with a nostril-pleasing hug. But it did not go further. It was unable to penetrate the cloud hanging above my head and his head. For the first time, my cousin’s new boyfriend had picked me up from my job as a customer service representative and I had only met him once before. The awkwardness was undeniable. My nerves were frayed from dealing with impatient customers and his arrival did nothing to aid in their defraying. He drove continuously down this lonely two- lane road, leading us toward home. The tension cloud continued to hang above us until he began to talk to me.
     “So how was work today?” he asked.
     “Work was fine today. Thank you for asking,” I responded with a monotone voice.
     “What about college? How are your classes going?” he asked.
     “I graduated from college two year ago,” I promptly answered.
     “Oh. Sorry. It’s just that the only pictures of you I have seen is from your high school
graduation and they look fairly new,” he apologized.
     “May I ask where you received these pictures from?” I questioned.
     “Well, your cousin has albums full of pictures of you from childhood to now,” he said.
     OMG. This kid knows everything about me and I don’t know anything of his past, I thought. The glacial and bare fields suddenly seemed to be more appealing than the inside of the car.
     “So are you and my cousin close?” I asked, wanting to break the awkward phase.
     “Well, I would think so since I was planning on proposing to her on Sunday” he responded promptly.
     “Oh! Really! Congratulations!” I said with some concealment.
     Externally, I was thrilled, but my brain began to get congested with questions. Have they been together that long? I thought to myself, but I didn’t even know anything about their relationship. The warm air released from the air conditioning suddenly seemed to heat the car at an extremely fast pace. I was sweating, but I tried to conceal this from him.
     “So tell me a little about yourself,” I asked. “Any bad habits?”
     “Only one, and it’s one that I am afraid will injure my relationship with your cousin.” “Well, what is it, so we can work this out,” I said, while reading the caution sign placed two feet from our lane.
     “I am an alcoholic,” he said.
     Whoa, I thought. I was expecting him to be some sort of gym freak, or neat freak, not a flippin’ alcoholic! The image of the caution sign reappeared in my head.
     “Well, have you sought professional help for this issue? It’s not one that can just be cured with communication,” I questioned.
     “Obviously, but nothing I have done has helped me “cure” my issues. You see, this didn’t just appear out of the blue. I didn’t ask to be this way. I was created into this person,” he stated.
     “How so?”
     “Well, my father was a “recovering” alcoholic. He would be sober for three months out of every year and my mother, she was abusive. When I wouldn’t respond or listen to her command, she would immediately spank me. And by spank, I mean beat the living daylights out of me. When she was done, she would sit down and cry herself into another state of anger and then come after me again. It was a cycle, a never-ending cycle of abuse.”
     The interior of the car did not smell as sweet any more, nor does the heat of the air conditioner surround me with warmth. The snow continued to fall at an even pace.
     He finished, “When I got older, I use to scold myself at all times over even the slightest thing. I always considered myself as incompetent or unintelligent, because my parent’s had taught me to feel that way. So I turned to alcohol. I thought it would be an outlet for my pain. I thought it would bring me comfort to myself, but I only hate myself even more now.”
     I stared straight-ahead and contemplated my next sentence, but what does one say after a person so openly reveals their life to you? How could I even come close to feeling his pain? The reality is that I could not put myself in his shoes. I could never feel the scars that are thoroughly implanted into his skin and mind. But I tried to heal them.
     “Listen. I am so sorry. I can never, ever feel the pain that you have felt. Nor could I ever imagine the strength you have to go through all of that and still be victorious in the end” I told him, feeling oddly comfortable with this emotionally injured man.
     “How am I victorious? What does victory even mean? Because in my mind, I have nothing gained or to gain, except for this relationship with your cousin,” he said.
     “But you have won,” I said. “Though I may not know you as well, I have so much respect for you because you were a hopeless victim who fell in the alcoholic’s pit. You only turned to alcohol because of what was done to you and what you saw. If that had not happened, you would not be where you are today.”
     “And where exactly am I today?” he questioned.
     “Taking your future cousin-in-law home,” I responded.
     He smiled. The tension cloud above our heads dissipated and led to a welcome silence as
we turned onto the ramp of a frozen highway.

(c) 2013 | Christina Taragjini