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Mike entered the kitchen. Joel stood at the sink, either staring out the window into space or intently watching the bots play in their Super Secret Snow Fortress in the backyard, No Dads Allowed until the roughhousing necessitated a rebuild. Last night’s 4 inch snowfall was little more than a nuisance in this winter’s record-breaking tally, but still the driveway had to be shoveled, again, and the sidewalk cleared, again, and where the hell were they going to put the 8 to 12 inches forecast for Thursday? They’d had to climb up on the roof to shovel it off a week ago, after an ominous crack both sounded throughout the house and appeared in the ceiling of Crow’s room. Even Minnesota houses weren’t built to stand two feet of snow on the roof soaking up a half-inch of freezing rain and ice. The huge piles of snow in the yard, while blocking much of whatever feeble winter sun managed to shine from entering the windows, did provide endless fun and entertainment for Tom, Crow, and Cambot. Not so much fun for him and Joel, though.
“How’re the dishes coming along?” Mike asked kindly. He’d seen the look of despair on Joel’s face that morning at yet another round of shoveling and decided to spare him, since it was Saturday and there wasn’t any rush to get to school or work.
Joel didn’t answer. He just stared out the window.
“Joel?” Mike walked over and put his hand gently on the other man’s shoulder. Joel startled, then relaxed.
“Oh! When did you come in?”
“Just now. You were a million miles away, there.”
“Yeah. I was watchin’ Tommy and Crow and Cambot and thinking about how I’d play in the snow with my brother as a kid.”
Mike smiled, remembering. “Yeah, Eddie and I would stay outside for hours. Never got cold, no matter how wet we got.”
Joel watched Crow try and fail to make a snowball with his mittened claws, and settle for hurling chunks of snow at Tom’s hovering form instead. He sighed wistfully.
“Now winter just seems to last forever -”
“It does, in Minnesota,” Mike interrupted.
“- And it’s just cold. Cold and gray and messy and endless.” Joel continued. “Especially this year. It just seems...” He sighed again. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear me complain. Not when you did all the work this morning while I’m being lazy and feeling sorry for myself.” Joel looked down at the sink. “Sorry.”
Mike grabbed Joel by the hand. “Come on. Put your coat and hat on.”
“I don’t really wanna…” Joel mumbled, as Mike pulled him through the living room to the coat tree.
“Come on!” Mike was insistent, and jammed the wool cap down over Joel’s head himself.
“You’re messing up my hair!” Joel complained.
“What hair?”
“Fuck you,” Joel muttered as he drew on his ski jacket.
“Later.” Mike pulled Joel out the front door and halfway down the driveway. The new layer of snow erased the evidence of two very active robot children, and the front lawn was a pristine sheet of white away from the driveway and sidewalk.
“Now what?”
“Follow me. Step where I step,” Mike said as he took a few careful steps through the deep snowbank lining the driveway and into the front yard.
“This is silly,” Joel grumbled but followed Mike anyway. The two stood side-by-side.
“Now turn -”
“Which way?”
“I don’t know, face the street, I guess.”
“What are you doing? More specifically, what I am doing?”
“On the count of three, we’re gonna fall backwards.”
“Mike, we’re too old for this!”
Mike grabbed Joel’s gloved hand and looked him in his tired eyes. “No, we’re not. We’ll never be.”
Joel stared at his lover, and a small smile crept onto his face. Mike internally sighed with relief. He counted out loud.
“One…two…three!”
The two men flopped backwards into the deep snow. They flapped their arms and legs for several seconds, then lay still, giggling.
“I never could get up without ruining the outline,” Mike confessed.
“Hang on…” Joel grunted as he sat up, dug his feet in, and with another, louder grunt, powered himself to his feet. He turned around. His snow angel was almost perfect, a little smudged at the feet, but still quite good. He moved over slightly and reached out both hands to Mike. “I’ll pull you up.” This time Joel counted to three and pulled. Mike surged upward, stumbled slightly and fell into Joel’s arms.
“You did that on purpose,” Joel gently accused.
“I’ll never tell.” Mike held on to Joel for a few seconds longer than necessary.
They looked at the two near-perfect snow angels, then grinned at each other.
“C’mon, let’s get the boys rounded up and inside before they start to rust,” Joel said.
“I’ll do it. You go inside and make some hot cocoa?” Mike asked hopefully. “With marshmallows?”
“Well…okay.”
“The little ones, please?”
“You’re pushing it, Mr. Nelson.”