Page 15 of When the Snowman Whispered
“I thought you said his name was Remy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I pushed the curtain back. “I think it might’ve been him whispering that to me earlier today.”
“So, he must be French.”
“Jesus, none of that matters. Why are there living snow creatures outside of my house?”
“Because you carved them, baby. You’rethatgood.”
“What?”
“And I’m sure you’ve broken the emergency glass and pulled out that joint you’ve been keeping hidden from all of us for weeks.”
“I don’t smoke anything.”
“I know my baby smokes. At least it wasn’t those nasty cigarettes.”
“I don’t smoke. Can we get back to the demons that have taken over the snow—”
“If they were demons, you would be dead.”
My heart hammered inside my chest. “What?”
“If. . .and this is a big if—”
“What’s an if, Mom, get on with it?!”
“If you really see snow people coming to life—”
“I do!”
“Then that means you’ve got some real power over there and maybe they have power too. But you’re not dead so things are good. Just take each moment in and let God show you what he’s trying to show you.”
“God may be trying to show me something?” I moved the curtain again and the snow man waved at me from the campfire. “Mom, you’ve lost your mind.”
“I’velostmymind? You’re the one calling me about snow people jumping around and having sex.”
“I didn’t say Santa had a threesome with the mermaids. I just said he seemed pretty horny and. . . What am I talking about? Mom, I need help!”
“You need to stop smoking weed.”
“I don’t smoke anything.”
“You’re always trying to hide your smoking from us. You don’t have to be perfect. We love you and we can pretty much smell that nasty smoke all over your clothes when you go out for yourwalks.”
“I don’t smoke and we are way. . .and I mean way off topic.” I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, put one in my mouth, and lit it. “What do I do? Is there a spell or something? Will they try to kill me? Why did they come alive? Was it the bag? It has to be the bag.”
“Okay, Faith. Get a pen and paper out. I’ll help you.”
“Thank God!” I blew out smoke, rushed to my everything drawer, scrambled through wrinkled receipts, discarded business cards, bent straws, forgotten keys and coupons, and even sticky ketchup packets. Finally, I found a pen and grabbed one of the receipts to write on. “Okay. What do I do?”
“Get a large glass of water.”
I wrote that down. “Okay.”
“Drink the water.”
I paused. “Okay?”
