Winter Storms Read Online Free PDF Page B

child.
    Jennifer says, “What do you want to do first?”
    He gives her a look as if to say
Do you even have to ask that?
    She swats his arm. “After that.”
    â€œI want to hug my children,” he says.
    â€œObviously,” Jennifer says. “After that.”
    â€œI want to stop at the store and get a cold six-pack,” he says. “I want to smell a flower. I want to take a bath. I want to get into a bed with my head on three fluffy pillows. I want to swim in the ocean. I want to go to the movies and get popcorn with too much butter. I want a glass of water filled with ice. You have no idea how much I’ve missed ice. I want to walk across Boston Common and smell the marijuana smoke and get asked for spare change. I want to wear my watch. I want to download music. I want to watch the sun go down. I want to throw the lacrosse ball with Jaime. I want to meet my new niece. I want my electric toothbrush. I want to wear
my
shirts,
my
boxers,
my
loafers.” He pauses. He seems overcome. “There are so many things.”
    â€œThere will be time,” Jennifer says. “I promise.” She knows what he means. He’s here, right here next to her. She puts her hand on the back of his head. She never wants to stop touching him.
    â€œAnd you,” Patrick says. “You are amazing. You held everything together. You were
so
strong. You deserve a medal. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me, Jenny.”
    â€œI would never leave you,” she says.
    â€œI don’t know how you did it,” he says. “I don’t know how you got through the days. It must have been so hard on you and yet you never complained. You are my hero, Jennifer Barrett Quinn.”
    She longs to confess:
I’m addicted to pills. Completely, pathetically addicted.
    But instead she says, “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
    Â 
AVA
    J une 20 is the first day of summer and the last day of school. Ava can remember only one other year when the two converged, but everyone finds it fitting: a seasonal passing of the baton.
    The day is sweltering, and naturally, tradition dictates that the majority of the last day be spent with the entire school packed together in the gymnasium, the one room in the building that defies even the most powerful air-conditioning. Ava has begged Principal Kubisch to keep the two back doors propped open for ventilation, despite the fact that, in this day and age, it’s a security violation.
    There is a pint-size version of pomp and circumstance for the departing fifth-graders, and Ava is overcome with nostalgia. She remembers Ryan Papsycki and Topher Fotea and the clique now headed by Sophie Fairbairn back when they were tiny kindergartners. Today, Sophie has seen fit to wear a lace bustier and show off her double-pierced ears. She’ll be a big hit in middle school.
    Ava herds the fourth-graders into rows of chairs for their three minutes of fame. They have been practicing “Annie’s Song,” by John Denver, on their recorders ever since they got back from Christmas break and they’ve gotten proficient enough that Ava doesn’t have to put in earplugs when they play it. She and Scott have an ongoing debate about how teaching the recorder should have been banned back in 1974 after the first class of students learned to play “Annie’s Song.” The recorder is such a lame instrument! Ava would far prefer teaching something the kids might actually use later in life—the harmonica, say, or the ukulele, the xylophone or the bongo drums. Anything but the recorder.
    Ava raises her arms and imagines for a moment that she is Arthur Fiedler conducting the Boston Pops. Ha! That’s funny enough that Ava nearly breaks into a grin. D’laney Rodenbough still has her recorder swaddled in a striped kneesock, but Ava can’t wait for D’laney. It’s too hot and everyone wants to get out of there.
    You