Taken by the Ice King

"To hell with this snow," I sneered as I kicked the small pile of snow in front of me. Between the bitter cold of Upstate New York, the pebble that has made its way into my boots to settle between my toes, and the wedgie that is practically splitting me in half, this day can seriously go to hell. For my apartment being so close to my job, it feels so very far away whenever I have to walk home in the snow. Thanks to the lake effect, we are currently getting completely pounded with snow. How lucky for me to be scheduled for back-to-back doubles for the week we are supposed to get the most snow of the season? To top everything off, this week is Christmas along with all the events that come with it. Parties, parades, bazaars, and mistletoe markets. I suppose if someone actually enjoys Christmas, it's different, but I'd rather go without the holiday. The most celebration I've ever had with the holiday was some fried spam after my dad's midnight shift with a pack of crayons and a discount coloring book in the same Christmas bag with an obnoxious green bow. That was only for the years he remembered it was Christmas. After my mom died, dad all but shut down. It was like a zombie that wasn't hungry for brains replaced him. Going through all the motions, doing all the necessary things but void of any emotions. I think he only remembered my birthday because the school always called him to ask what kind of cupcakes to provide for the class. Thankfully for him, I've been a chocolate lover since birth, so that was an easy, automatic answer. That was the one good part of my childhood, school. Always had breakfast, always had lunch, and I always had my birthday party thrown by the teachers. I think they realized I wasn't in the best home situation. Everyone knew my mom. I was only 6 when she passed so the memories I do have are a little fuzzy. Everyone always comments on how much I look so much like her. We have the same mahoghany colored hair with waves. Our faces are the same, similar heights and builds. But our eyes are different. Hers were a hazel green while mine are an ice blue. Fitting considering I've been called a frigid b***h before. I often wondered if our striking similarities are why my father was always so distant. Perhaps as I grew up it was like her ghost came back to haunt him. From what I know and have heard... She would have never haunted him. I don't think she would have wanted him to have lived his life like he has. I remember her singing to me, rocking me in the chair that sits abandoned in my old room, running her hands over my back to soothe me when I was sick or had a bad dream. She loved me fiercely, that I know for certain. Her love and kindness are what I hear about the most from other people. I wish my dad would talk about her. The only time he would is if he was so tired he would start sleep talking. He would be talking to her in his dreams about their adventures, how much he loved her, and how excited he was for the future. Then he would wake up to the cruel reality crashing down around him. His grief was so heavy that it was almost palpable in the air. When I started middle school he became the numb, mindless zombie he is today. I think she took the spark with her when she left. She took the magic, the life's breath from his lungs, his will, his fight. She was his everything, and now he is but a hollow shell that still managed to sit in PTA meetings and remember I loved chocolate. As I trudge up my walkway to my apartment building, I wonder what my life would have been like if she hadn't died. Would I have believed in Santa as long as my friends did? Would my birthdays have been full of laughter and smiles? Would my father have been more of a dad? My porch light goes out just as I get my keys out to put them in the door. Great. Just great. What else could possibly go wrong? Its bad enough that I had to deal with all the Karens at work today because Josie just HAD to go on breaks at the most convenient times with the manager. I swear they have a thing going on, I just can't prove it. My cat darts out the door and just as I reach down to catch him, my feet come out from under me on the slick concrete. I land with a thud and just sit there and contemplate my life. 22 years old. Single. Never been in a real relationship. Working dead end retail to pay for a crappy apartment. An associate's degree in Business and Human Resources that is worth nothing. Let's see, what else? Oh yeah, lonely. Utterly lonely. You would think that after so many years I would be used to it. My cat decides that the winter weather is not for him, and he clambers his portly body across me to go back into the apartment. Bastard. No treats for him tonight. Just as I reach the bottom of my self-pity pit, my phone rings. The one name that can make me smile on my worst day. Sonya. "Hey girl! What are you up to?" her cheerful voice sings, warming my icy heart. "Oh, you know just... Lying around." I answer. Not a total lie. "Well, hey, so you know my parents' party is in 2 days, and they REALLY want you to come this year, and so do I! You never come, and I never get to see you anymore! It's winter wonderland themed this year, you'll love it!" God, sometimes I think she and Buddy the Elf are friends. Sonya LOVES Christmas. Like once Halloween is over, we skip Thanksgiving and go straight to Christmas. She is the type of person to put reindeer antlers on her car and her dog in a Christmas sweater. "Gee, I don't know Sonya. Work has been so busy, and I'm exhausted. I feel like I would be a drag. Plus, I don't have anything to wear to a winter wonderland party." Maybe she'll let this go. She did last year because she knew I was working so much, and I do work that day, so I would pretty much go right from work to the party if I went. "Girl, no. You have flaked on me the last 3 coffee dates. You owe me. I have your outfit already picked out. You'll be wined, dined and you'll have a good time. Loosen up a bit, Scrooge." Damn. I actually winced when she called me out like that. I have canceled quite a bit on her. I roll my eyes and drop my forehead in my hands. It's one night and Sonya will be there. How bad could it be? "Alright, fair is fair. I will come and be merry with you. But please, don't make me go caroling again in those old-timey outfits. I can't do that again in your neighborhood with all our old classmates." She laughs and snorts. "Okay, but Jamie Weighton had the hots for you in that outfit. Gotta admit you're drop-dead gorgeous in any century queen," she always knows how to make light of a situation. She has gotten me through so many dark times in my life. Going to the party is the least I can do. "Yeah yeah, I'm timeless, as you've told me before. I have got to feed me and the cat, but I'll talk to you soon, okay?" I'm almost certain my ass will freeze to the concrete if I don't move soon. "Okay, just don't eat the cat food. Love you!" She hangs up. I swear I mistook a can of cat food for a can of tuna one time, and she will never let it go.