Snow Globe (story by Jill prompted by Jennifer's photo)

Jenn gave me this photo as my prompt on Friday, December 3, 2021. I knew it was from a trip she had taken to Erie. And the photo gave me a similar feel as the last one. And, wanting to revisit the characters from my last 2 posts (November 26th and December 5th), I wrote this. 

Snow Globe

    I hadn’t seen Dylan for almost two weeks, and I was looking forward to our day trip to Erie. He had to pick up an end table from his cousin’s house and asked if I wanted to come along for the ride. I would have driven anywhere with him, so I gladly agreed.

    He picked me up mid-morning. “Hey,” I said as I got into the car beside him. 

    “Hay’s for horses,” he said then leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth. He looked over his left shoulder. “Are you ready for this?” He said as he pulled out into traffic. 

    I sat back in the passenger seat, feeling a little unsettled. “Is there something I should be bracing myself for?” I said and laughed. 

    “Not really. I guess I’m just making conversation.”

    “Have we already run out of things to talk about, Dylan?” My uneasiness grew.

    He shrugged, and I turned away from him to look out the passenger window and focus on something else for a while. 

    After a few minutes of silence I said, “Isn’t Erie kind of snowy?” I looked at him. “I mean, are we going to make it there okay?” 

    “We’ll be fine,” he said as he turned on his windshield wipers. The snow was starting to steadily fall.

    And we did make it there okay, but snow was starting to lay on the roads at that point. So Dylan suggested I just wait in the car, and he ran in for the end table. I had wanted to meet his cousin but agreed as it seemed like the safest choice. 

    As we got further away from Erie, the snow eased up again until it was just surrounding us like a snow globe but no longer causing Dylan’s tires to slide, so when we were almost back to Pittsburgh, we decided to stop to eat. Sitting across from each other smiling, I felt okay—good even. Things between us felt normal again, and I wondered if I had misread Dylan’s earlier cues that had caused my uneasiness. 

    So I was a little confused when we left the restaurant, and I could tell that Dylan was driving in the direction that would take us back to my dorm. Though nothing had been planned, I had assumed we would probably go to his apartment—that I would spend the night there with him. 

    “Are you taking me home?” I said. 

    Dylan was quiet for a few seconds and then started telling me about how his therapist suggested that he needed to work on himself. Needed to not date anyone in the process as Dylan was finding himself falling back into unhealthy patterns that had caused his last relationship to fail miserably—had caused every relationship to fail miserably. 

    Dylan assured me that he didn’t want that to happen with us. He liked how he felt when he was with me. That was what had actually prompted this discussion with his therapist. I was someone he liked having by his side, and he didn’t want to mess that up. I guess she had convinced him that if he took the time to work on himself first, ours would be a better relationship. But most of the drive back (most of the day, really) he had been toying with the idea of just ignoring his therapist’s advice and taking me home.

    After monologuing for fifteen minutes or so, he asked how I felt about all of that—and if I would wait for him.

    I didn’t say anything right away. It was a lot to take in. I couldn’t help but feel a little blindsided, a little stung in that moment, and more than a little rejected—even though he insisted it wasn’t a rejection. It was him working on himself so that he could be a better person all around and also better for us—so that we could actually have a chance at working as a couple. 

    I liked that idea.

    I had wanted us to have that chance, so after a long silence I said, “Okay. I’ll wait for you, Dylan.”

    And then we got to my dorm, and he pulled up in front of the building. 

    “I guess you’re not coming in then,” I said. 

    “I want to, Hadley. But I shouldn’t.” He shook his head.

    I nodded, feeling tears well in my eyes. “Can I give you a hug?” my voice broke, and the tears spilled down my cheeks.

    “Of course,” he said quietly.

    I nodded, wrapped my arms around him, and buried my head in his chest. He had said it wasn’t going to be an ending, but that wasn’t what it felt like to me. And I didn’t want to let go.

    So I just sat there and held him for as long as I could. Then I broke from the hug, opened my door, and got out of the car. I leaned down and looked at him. “Bye,” I said and quickly shut the door. 

    I went into the building and found my way to my room. Then I cried because there was definitely a part of me that knew it was over.

    Not quite two weeks ago we had met for a walk on his lunch break, and as we got to the point in town where he went left toward his office and I continued on toward school, he gave me a quick hug and kiss—his left hand resting on my face. He smiled sheepishly as he slid his hand down my right arm and gave my hand a quick squeeze before letting go and turning toward his destination. And I had been so overwhelmed with feelings in that moment that I stood there for a second longer, pressing my right hand into my chest. “You’re in love with this man,” I thought. Shaking my head quickly and blinking my eyes a few times, I inhaled deeply and smiled. “Oh, Hadley, be careful,” I said under my breath and started walking back to school. 

—Jill Cullen (written 12.10.21)