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Rachel hums to herself while walking down St Denis. She passes by the same famously treacherous Montreal staircases, old grey stone buildings and little yellow lights every day. They never stop being pretty. They make her forget how tired she is.
The snow has turned to slush, and Rachel clings on to the sidewalk as much as her toes possibly can through her wool-lined boots. She watches people pass her with stiff, tentative steps. Maybe no one is really ok in the winter.
She turns left on her side street, where her apartment sits quiet. The lights had all been shut off, including the string lights she had put up the week before. It feels cold inside. She steps into her slippers, turns her string lights back on, lights a candle and crawls under the blanket on the couch. She sometimes falls asleep there.
Rachel doesn’t live alone. She has tried so hard to make it feel like she doesn't live alone. She has tried so hard to get Patrick involved in the household, to make him feel more comfortable here, to help him with his restlessness. She believes he is capable of anything, and she knows if they keep trying they will get there eventually.
The snow keeps falling, turning half-liquid when it makes contact with the ground. It’s too cold out, but somehow still too warm for the snow to keep its shape. It does look nice when it falls past her window.
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The snow plows usually only make it out by midday, and Stevie drives through the stillness of a winter morning. The snow sits thick on the roads. She’s an expert (in her mind at least) at plowing her own way through, again and again. She wishes the snow understood that people have places to go, people to see, apartments to get back to. She wishes the snow didn’t make her drive so carefully, but it’s better than walking.
Winter freezes everything; the ground, the people, the routines. Stevie has lived in Canada for her whole life but she has never gotten used to how forceful the season is. Something about it reminds her of what her life really is, and she’d rather not.
She gets home and almost forgets to take off her boots. She wants to take a hot shower, scorch her skin to the point where she almost forgets what cold was, She wants to forget people who make her drive home on snowy mornings, she wants to forget that’s all she’s ever had. Maybe afterwards she’ll crawl into bed and go to sleep. She’ll wake after the snow plows have come. She’ll pretend she was here all night, and the snow had been cleared just for her.
When she comes out of the shower, she sees it’s snowing again. She hopes the snowplows don’t wait for it to stop.
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They find each other in a coffee shop on the corner of Notre Dame and Bourget. Rachel has finally learned French (although she still gets responded to in English) and Stevie is here after viewing a motel in Magog. They’re in a neighbourhood that is sectioned off by the canal to the south and highways to the west and north. Getting here was an intentional choice for both of them, and…
Stevie remembers her immediately. It’s been years, but something inside of her tells her to say hi. She does, and Rachel does, and somehow they’ve been speaking for hours.
They get kicked out eventually, both feeling a warmth that the early December winds have been making them forget. Stevie has her bag with her and Rachel lives nearby now. The first thing Stevie comments on in Rachel’s apartment is her variety of light sources: lamps, string lights, candles… Rachel ignores her in favour of giving her a soft pair of slippers at the entranceway. Stevie kisses her first, and cooks them supper several hours later, The next morning, Rachel makes her tea and heats up some chocolatines for the both of them.
Stevie checks her weather app, and is horrified to see that they’re expecting a snowstorm within the next few hours. She was supposed to have been home by now. She hadn’t booked a room anywhere, and Rachel certainly won’t want-
“What’s wrong?”
“Apparently there’s going to be a massive snowstorm, they’re saying 35 centimeters, so I probably need to-.”
Stevie doesn’t think she’ll be able to beat the storm, and Rachel knows. Rachel suddenly can’t bear to spend another snowstorm alone in her apartment, but it’s a studio, and she hasn't stocked up enough for two people. She can’t let Stevie drive in this weather either, and she can’t stay here.
“Let’s’” Rachel says.
“What?”
“Let’s get out of here. I have a voucher for plane tickets that’s about to expire. We can make it out before the storm.”
They do, without hesitation and without question. They find last minute tickets online and check in to their flight then and there. They take the bus to the airport and it feels right. They’re excited, feeding off each other's energy. Neither of them have ever been so spontaneous. They speed through security and customs, and within only a few hours they’re on a plane to New York City.
The snow starts just as they’re making their ascent, the plane’s angle forcing them to look down into the depths of the St. Lawrence river. Stevie and Rachel's hands are clasped tightly. The snow falls over the city, relentless, urgent, shocking. But they’re in the air now, they’ve made it. It’s a lot easier to watch it come down from the sky.
“It does snow in New York.” Stevie says quietly.
“I know, but I’ve never been to New York, it will still be something different, even if it catches up with us.”
They’ll only be staying for a couple of days. By the time they get back to Montreal, the roads will have been cleared, and the city will start to look like the postcards Rachel sends to her grandparents. Stevie will be able to drive home, and hopefully drive back. She will drive back. They both know they can figure it out.
They arrive in New York to large piles of snow and paths cleared by the city’s millions of residents. There are string lights and holiday lights and city lights everywhere. Alexis books Stevie and Rachel a nice room at a discount, and they shower together-mostly for efficiency. Rachel does wash Stevie’s hair, and Stevie lets her use her favourite shampoo for herself too. They fall into bed discussing their plans for the next few days. They’re too tired for sex, so they just lie there curled up, their bodies keeping each other warm and safe. Sleep is fast, comfortable and easy.
The snow does make it to New York the next morning, but they’re only expecting a couple of centimeters. Stevie and Rachel watch it while drinking freshly made coffee. From the 16th floor, it looks beautiful, calm, and soft.
“I wish I could stay here forever.” Rachel says, rapt by how the giant snowflakes caress the lively streets below. Stevie knows that at least some part of them just might.