The Sudden Weight of Snow Read Online Free PDF Page A

multiheaded creatures in Petri dishes. “We
have
to go. The only thing is,” she said, “we can’t go backto my place. My mother has declared it a No Kid Zone for the weekend. I think she’s also declared it a No Husband Zone, but that’s not my problem.”
    “What’s she going to do?” I placed a drip of water on a glass disc and set my eye to the microscope. Tunnel vision.
    “Fuck if I know.”
    I looked down the tube to where everything loomed large, bigger than I thought things could be, yet thinner, closer to disappearing. “Well, it doesn’t matter, anyways. You can come to my place. The party won’t start till late. We’ll leave after ten. You know my mother. She’d sleep through a train wreck. Hey, you get anything?”
    “Absolutely, darling,” Krista said, winking. This meant that she had pilfered a two-sixer of Absolut vodka from one of the neighbours she baby-sat for, neighbours who bought liquor in cases, stored it in a stocked cellar. She had begun stealing alcohol a year before. I was fine with that. It was going to a good cause – our liberation.
    “Rob and Mike’ll probably be there,” Krista whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her eye now on the microscope.
    “So?” Rob and Mike. Interchangeable with any Matt, Jeff, or Jason at Sawmill Creek Secondary. Baseball-cap-wearing, chewing-tobacco-spitting, sport-bike-riding sons of mill executives. And that is exactly what Krista wanted. She wanted to ride hard and fast on the back of one of those sport bikes, wanted to feel her red hair tear away from her face, her screams trailing behind her. That’s what I imagined. Krista was fair to my dark, at least in appearance. She had red hair, skin so pale and thin you could make out the faint lines of blood, bluebeneath it. She had breasts, the promise of fleshy, milk-white breasts under all of her shirts. That holy land tempted even me.
    “Oh, right. So sorry. I forgot you were above all that,” she said. The bell rang. “I’ll be at your place tomorrow night at eight,” Krista tossed over her shoulder as she left class.

    The next night Krista and I sang along to the radio, yelping as we tried to dance in the small space, knocking hipbones and shins into pieces of furniture. Krista had brought along a backpack full of possible outfits and started to pull on a pair of tight jeans. She jumped around the room, red-faced with the exertion of trying to pull the zipper up, until I said, “Lie on the bed, I’ll zip you up.” I could hear water in the pipes which meant Vera was getting ready for bed. Soon we’d be able to go out. “Okay, hold,” I instructed Krista. She inhaled and held the air in her throat while I zipped. “Ah shit, you aren’t going to be able to move in those, Kris. What’s the use?”
    “What’s the use? What’s the
use
? Granted, walking is a little difficult but they’ll stretch. Besides, look at this ass!” Krista got up and pointed to herself in the mirror. “There’s nothing better than a heart-shaped ass, isn’t that what Mickey Rourke says in that movie? Nothing better than a heart-shaped ass.” That movie was
9½ Weeks
. Mrs. Delaney had a copy. We watched it at Krista’s after school one afternoon just as we had read bits of
Fear of Flying
and
Kama Sutra
to each other, doubling over in laughter when we tried to imagine Mr. and Mrs. Delaney churning curds, as one of the positions was called. “Ihave a feeling my mom’s churning curds with someone else,” Krista had said. Unlike Vera, she was at least churning curds with
someone
.
    I wore my jeans looser, which wasn’t difficult with my figure, or lack thereof. The waistband of my jeans hung on the bone handles of my hips. My sweater was cropped and whenever I moved there was only skin in the place where a belt might have been between shirt and jeans. Nothing holding my jeans up or holding me in.
    We worked meticulously on our faces, Krista convincing me they needed a lot of help. A light