Ansley sat on the front porch steps, surrounded by a light dusting of snow. Her dress was spread across the steps, and she kept trying to pull her white stockings up over her knees. The road was empty, the snow undisturbed, and the teenage girl on the porch steps had her head in her hands.
“Ansley?”
Ansley turned around and looked up at Miss Florence, who spread a sweatshirt over her young friend’s shoulders.
“It’s cold.” Miss Florence pushed a cup of hot chocolate toward Ansley, but the young girl pushed it away.
She sat down next to Ansley and looked out at the road with a similar expression of dismay. Miss Florence took a sip of the hot chocolate herself.
“Your grandmother asked me to come talk to you. And, as her best friend, I had to oblige.”
Ansley pulled the hoodie around her shoulders like a blanket.
“You’ve been acting odd all day. It’s Christmas, Ans. Smile.”
“He said he would come for me. Even in a blizzard.”
“Jonah again?”
Ansley nodded.
“You have to snap out of this, dear. It’s not good for you.”
“He said he would come for me–”
“Ansley…”
“–even in a blizzard.”
Miss Florence sighed again.
“Maybe your holiday romance isn’t so perfect after all.”
“You remember when I said that–I was so happy…”
“I remember everything, Ansley. I’m not your grandmother, after all.”
“Grandma doesn’t get me. Or Jonah.”
“She’s a lovely woman, but Alice has her faults. She was never much of a romantic.”
Miss Florence fiddled with her greying braid as her young friend sighed.
“He said he would come? On Christmas Day?”
“Yes, he said he would come. He…lied.”
“My beautiful girl, when you learn that there’s so much more to life than love you’re going to be unstoppable.”
“What else is there?”
Miss Florence took another sip of her hot chocolate.
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“I’m sitting alone in the snow in a far-too-short dress. Why on earth would I be right?”
“Love is one thing that everyone has to have to live. You’re just…ahead of the game.”
“But he doesn’t love me back–” Ansley’s face crumpled, and she began to cry.
Miss Florence rubbed Ansley’s back. “Why don’t we go inside? You can put on some warmer clothes and eat Christmas cookies. You don’t need to watch for someone who may never come.”
“It’s a good idea, but I don’t think I can.”
“Does it seem like giving up hope?”
Ansley looked up at Miss Florence, mascara running down her cheeks, and nodded with every ounce of sincerity in her body.
“Perhaps it is.” Miss Florence took another sip of her hot chocolate. “But perhaps it’s giving up hope in all the other beauty of life to keep sitting here.” She stood up, her slippers making indents in the light snow, and walked inside.
Ansley stood, staring at the road for another moment.
“He said he would come for me. Even in a blizzard.”
No car appeared to raise her hopes.
“Snow or sunshine.”
She shakily turned toward the house just as another layer of crisp white snowflakes began to fall.
