Chapter 1 – February 2nd, 2009
“It’s too quiet in here,” Cathy said, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. He gently laughed and patted her leg.
“Hey, don’t rock the boat,” he advised. She smiled and raised her head to kiss him on the cheek. Ralph turned his head at the last moment and caught her full on the lips instead. She didn’t seem to mind. Then she started to rise, and he rolled his eyes.
“A mother’s privilege,” she said with a sly voice as soon as she had reached her feet. He stared up at her and nodded his head, though he still had a skeptical grin on his face. “You are coming, aren’t you?” she asked, cocking her head to one side as if daring him to say no.
“I guess,” he moaned, putting heavy emphasis into an elaborate sigh. Cathy didn’t seem to buy his reluctance. He smiled deviously and extended his hand upward for some assistance. She looked at him suspiciously for a few moments, but eventually grabbed his hand and tried to pull him off the sofa. He pulled even harder than she did, dragging her back down on top of him instead. As she fell into his lap, she laughed heartily, but still managed to slap him across the top of his head. She kissed him lightly once again and then did get him to his feet, pulling him unwillingly across the carpeted floor.
They quietly climbed the staircase, passing family photos and framed prints of art in all of their crayon glory, all mounted in rising layers along the wall of the stairwell. Only the best pictures made it to the wall. The problem, of course, was that all of the pictures a five-year-old drew fell into that “best” category, regardless of how many fingers or heads the humans in them happened to have.
Holding her husband’s hand, Cathy finally made it to the top step, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they moved down the hallway. They stopped outside a room on the left side, one with its door slightly ajar, and listened as a high-pitched voice bantered back and forth in excited tones from somewhere within the room. Ralph opened the door a little wider and looked in on his daughter.
Crystal was sitting in a small plastic chair in the center of her room, her back facing the door, talking animatedly to a person seated across the table from her. Like the good hostess she obviously thought she was, Crystal offered her friend some delicious tea, pouring an invisible stream of flavored water into his cup from her plastic teapot. She then offered her friend one of the invisible cookies sitting on her small plastic plate. The friend, who was just as invisible as the cookies, must have taken more than his fair share, because Crystal chided him for being overly greedy.
“I have to make these last the whole week,” she explained, drawing the plate away from the outstretched fingers of her friend’s unseen hand. “They don’t grow on trees, you know.” Her friend must have said something in return, but Ralph and Cathy missed the response. “They do?” Crystal asked in awe after a moment. She then laughed giddily, rocking back and forth in her small plastic chair.
“May we join you?” Cathy asked from her daughter’s doorway. Crystal whipped her head around and caught sight of her two interlopers. Her small face lit up, and she beckoned her parents to enter the room.
Resuming her hostess duties, Crystal rose to her feet and ushered her father to the right side of the small plastic table. He sat down politely on the floor, pushing aside the tiny plastic chair. The chair was much too small for his tall frame, and pink wasn’t his color anyway. Cathy received the next escort service, and, after moving her own chair aside, sat on the side of the table opposite her husband. She smiled at him gently, her green eyes glowing in anticipation of the forthcoming tea service.
Crystal walked over to a lamp resting on the dresser near her bed. Its base was a Winnie the Pooh figurine, with the shy bear peering upward into a honey pot that doubled as a lampshade. When she switched the lamp on, the light bulb illuminated the orange bear’s upturned face. One of his eyes was closed, but the other was unwavering in its concentration, looking for the slightest sign of some left-over honey. The expression on his face was very somber, and his pink tongue hung disappointedly out of the side of his mouth. The jar must have been empty.
After adjusting the Winnie the Pooh lamp to the second brightest setting, Crystal walked over to her bedroom door and shut it gently. She flicked off the main light switch so that her nightlight—a plastic amalgamation of various Disney Characters—and the Winnie the Pooh lamp provided the only sources of light. Apparently having achieved the mood she was after, she resumed her seat at the head of the table, pushing aside her plastic chair in a “grown-up” fashion and sitting directly on the floor, just like her mom and dad.
“I don’t have any more cookies,” she said mischievously, picking up the plastic plate. She cautiously moved the plate off the table, handling it very carefully, as if she didn’t want any of its invisible contents to slide off and fall to the floor. She set the plate under the table near her stocking feet, just out of her father’s reach. “But I have lots and lots of tea,” she added in a consoling voice.
“No coffee?” Ralph asked in feigned disappointment.
“Not tonight,” Crystal said, though her matter-of-fact tone had lost any semblance of sympathy. She gestured for her parents to hold out their plastic tea cups—his blue, hers pink—and the five-year-old poured some invisible liquid into each, careful not to spill any on the table. She then poured some tea for herself, though she poured a lot longer this time, as if her own yellow cup was bottomless. Her father raised his cup and was about to take a sip, but Crystal gave him a smirk, and he abruptly lowered the cup before it touched his lips.
“Wait until everyone is served,” Crystal reprimanded, gesturing with her head at the side of the table opposite her. Unlike her parents, Crystal’s invisible friend didn’t pass his green cup across the table, so Crystal stretched her arm out as far as she could reach in order to pour the invisible stream of tea into his motionless mug. She must have spilt some, because she apologized immediately to her imaginary friend.
“Can I drink now before my tea gets cold?” her father asked as soon as Crystal returned the teapot to its appropriate place in the center of the table. Crystal flashed him another reproachful look. He obviously didn’t understand what was going on.
“It’s not hot tea, Daddy,” she said.
“I meant, before it gets colder,” he quickly corrected. His wife smiled gently when he caught her eye, but his daughter ignored the comment.
“He can’t have hot tea,” Crystal explained before taking a sip from her cup. She quickly picked up a napkin and wiped away a stream of tea that was apparently running down her chin, though her parents couldn’t see the spill. She gestured for them to drink as well, and they both did so, though Ralph drained his cup in one large gulp while Cathy settled for a more leisurely sip.
“You haven’t introduced us yet,” Cathy informed her daughter, gesturing at the invisible guest behind the green tea cup. Crystal looked mortified at having missed an important step in her hosting duties.
“This is my Mom and Dad,” she said, pointing at each parent in succession, but looking at the empty chair opposite her side of the table. “Mom,” she said, looking in that direction. “Dad,” she continued, looking at him. “This is Snowman.” She pointed at the empty chair, and Cathy and Ralph stared at it for a few seconds. Cathy picked up on the appropriate response a little more quickly than her husband.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Snowman,” Cathy said. She reached her hand out to shake Snowman’s hand, hoping she was coordinated enough to grasp his palm, but she kept her eyes turned in her daughter’s direction, trying to gauge how well the gesture was working. Crystal seemed pleased.
“How long have you known my daughter?” Ralph asked, assuming the air of a father questioning his daughter’s first date. His wife quickly turned her head aside to hide her smile.
“Since it snowed last week,” Crystal responded, interrupting the silent reply of her new friend. “But he can’t stay inside for very long. He needs to go outside soon.”
“Why’s that?” Cathy asked, though she was sure she had already figured out the reasoning of the five-year-old. “Will he melt?” Crystal nodded her head slightly, and then took another small sip from her yellow cup.
“Oh! That’s why the tea is cold, huh?” Ralph asked, finally seeing the whole picture. “Hot tea would probably go right through him,” he added, smiling at his wife.
“His hand is very cold,” Cathy observed. She was still holding her hand out in Snowman’s direction, and she pumped her wrist up and down a few more times.
“That’s why he wears gloves,” Crystal said, logically. She downed the remainder of her tea and poured herself another cup. She also refilled her dad’s supply, but Cathy said she was still savoring her remaining half-cup. Crystal shrugged her shoulders and snuck part of an invisible cookie off the plate near her feet, surreptitiously popping the fragment into her mouth while avoiding her parent’s eyes.
“When is Snowman’s bedtime,” Cathy finally asked with upturned eyebrows, looking at her daughter.
“Oh, he doesn’t need to sleep,” the little girl responded. “He doesn’t get tired.” A wide yawn then threatened to consume Crystal’s entire face, and she looked sleepily at her father. Ralph smiled at her and tried to regain his feet, though he almost fell over when he caught his shoe on the edge of the table.
“Whoops,” he said, barely catching his balance. “Did you spike that tea?” Crystal gave him a curious expression, but her mother seemed to get the joke. He moved around the table and knelt behind his daughter, looking down into her face as she swung her head back and looked up into his. She laughed merrily as he kissed her on the forehead. “It’s time for bed, My Friend,” he said. “You need to get some sleep before school tomorrow.”
He lifted her up, grabbing her beneath her arms, and rested her small feet on top of his much larger pair. Holding her hands, he slowly walked toward her bed, her feet moving in step on top of his. Crystal giggled loudly the entire time. As soon as they reached her bed, she slid off her father’s feet and turned around to hug him. He pulled her covers back and helped her onto the mattress, though it took a few attempts to detach her arms from his legs. Cathy soon joined them and, like her father, kissed Crystal lightly on her forehead.
“Mom!” Crystal complained in a loud whisper, throwing an embarrassed glance at the empty chair resting behind the green plastic cup. “Not in front of Snowman.” Cathy looked disappointedly at her husband. He hadn’t received a reprimand when he kissed his daughter in front of Snowman.
“Sleep tight,” she told Crystal, though Cathy continued to smirk at her husband.
“Open the window,” Crystal whimpered sleepily. Her mother shook her head.
“It’s too cold outside, Baby.” Cathy tugged at Crystal’s covers, making sure she pulled the blankets up sufficiently high on the little girl’s neck.
“I know,” Crystal responded haughtily, as if she didn’t want her mother thinking she was dumb. “Snowman needs to go outside. Then you can close it again.”
Cathy gave her husband a coaxing look. Ralph crossed the small bedroom to the window, unhooked the latch, and opened it halfway. After a few seconds, he looked at his daughter, and tentatively started to close the window, hoping he wasn’t about to cut the legs off his daughter’s new friend. Then he heard a loud thumping noise outside, and he opened the window a little wider, poking his head out to get a better look.
A large drift of snow had apparently shaken loose from the roof and fallen to the ground. Ralph smiled at the crazy thought that ran through his mind. He brought his head back inside the room and closed the window without hesitation, knowing it was perfectly safe to do so. Apparently, Snowman had left the building.
“He didn’t even finish the rest of his tea,” Crystal commented sadly from beneath her covers. Ralph looked at the green cup sitting idly in front of Snowman’s empty chair. Although the cup was similarly empty, Ralph grabbed it and downed whatever remained of its contents, eliciting gleeful giggles from the two women in his life. For his next trick, he grabbed a truly fat-free cookie off the plate sitting on the floor, though both girls shot him disapproving looks. He smiled, ate the invisible cookie in one giant gulp, and made a big production out of chomping away, rubbing his belly in the process.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Crystal whispered. “I put bugs in that one.” Cathy couldn’t help but laugh. She kissed her daughter on the forehead without Crystal’s complaint and turned off the Winnie the Pooh lamp. Only the figure of Snow White—who was petting a plastic Bambi—illuminated the darkened room. Cathy crept over to her husband, grabbed his hand, and led him towards the door. Before leaving the room, she turned around and wished her daughter pleasant dreams.
Ralph slowly shut the door and tried to kiss his wife once more. She refused, citing his recent ingestion of bugs as the cause of her reluctance to show him that kind of affection. He accepted the bad news with a grain of salt and headed down to the living room. His wife, on the other hand, headed to the bathroom, eager to soak in a hot bath after a long day.
***
Crystal closed her eyes and started humming softly. She smiled when her bed started warming up all around her, as her body heat gradually spread to her blankets and pillows. Just when she felt comfortable, she heard a gentle tapping on her window. She opened her eyes, losing her smile.
Chink-chink-chink. Chink-chink-chink.
“I’m trying to sleep, Snowman,” she complained.
Snowman ignored her and continued tapping. Crystal couldn’t stand it any longer. She flung her covers aside and climbed out of bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of her blankets. She slowly walked across her bedroom floor, cautiously avoiding the table sitting in the middle of the room, and stopped in front of the window. She tried to unclasp the window latch, but her father must have shut it extra tight tonight, and she couldn’t get the handle to turn at all. She stepped back and scowled at the window in frustration.
The tapping sound was getting louder, but Crystal couldn’t see anything hitting the pane of glass. Then the sound changed, becoming a series of dull thuds instead of a high-pitched “chink-chink-chink.” She took another step back and stared at the window. The glass pane looked different somehow, thicker than usual. She realized a layer of ice covered the entire window, but it looked like the ice had collected on the inside of the glass rather than on the outside. It was so thick that she couldn’t even see the front yard. She reached her hand out and carefully touched the ice, feeling the familiar cold sting of frost on her fingertips.
Her smile returned immediately.
“Cool,” she said quietly. It looked just like the layer of ice her father had to scrape off his car windshield during some of the chillier Colorado mornings.
The tapping noise then changed into slow, deliberate, ice-scraping sounds, tiny squeaks coming from the ice-covered windowpane. She watched in amazement as several loopy letters started cutting themselves into the thick layer of ice, one squiggly letter at a time. It took her only a moment to recognize the message:
G O O D N I G H T C R Y S T A L
“Goodnight, Snowman,” she said with a happy yawn.
She started tracing the ice letters with her fingertip. By the time she reached the letter N, the ice had reformed into one solid sheet. The scraping sound began again, and she quickly withdrew her hand from the window. Another message appeared, a longer one that took her a few moments to read:
B Y T H E W A Y
I P U T B U G S I N Y O U R C O O K I E S, T O O
She started laughing loudly when she understood the message, though she tried to stifle her amusement when she realized it might attract her parent’s attention. She glanced at the door to see if the knob was turning, but it remained motionless. She peered back at the window once again, but the message had already disappeared, leaving behind a clear pane of glass. Crystal touched the window happily one more time before returning to her bed, where she found a little warmth waiting for her beneath the covers. She closed her eyes again and hummed a hearty tune.
Snowman was such a teaser.
Chapter 2 – October 13th, 2018
Crystal stared out the window, her twelve-year-old nose pressed against the glass, watching the aspen trees pass blurrily by outside. The trees were in the beginning stages of their fall coloring, with reds, golds, yellows, and oranges spreading from the tips of their crowns down to their chalky-white trunks. One of her favorite pastimes was staring out the window, watching the world change around her as she fled from one home to the next, from one city to another, from the biggest metropolises to the smallest of small towns.
“We’ll be there in a little while,” her father from the driver’s side seat. She turned around and gave him a curious expression.
“You said that half an hour ago,” she complained, using her patented look of raised eyebrows, essentially telling him he was off his rocker. “And half an hour before that.”
“Ah,” he replied, “but that’s the beauty of the phrase ‘a little while.’ Never have to be very specific.” She returned her focus to the trees outside her window, so bored she thought she could actually see the leaves change color. “Looks like I’m right this time,” he added a few moments later.
She didn’t look at him this time, but turned her attention to a large sign posted on the right side of the road. It was nestled in a grove of aspen trees, resting on a blanket of perfectly manicured grass, proclaiming a happy welcome to those travelers who had purposely, or accidentally, found their way into Falls Church, Colorado. Crystal and her father fell into the former category. His purpose in coming to Falls Church was a new job; her purpose was following him. She watched a few dead aspen leaves fall to the ground at the base of the sign.
“Time for my navigator to shine,” her father beamed. She slowly turned and reached into the back seat of the car, feeling around for the few pages of computer-generated maps she had printed out before starting the trip. She finally found them and twisted back around in her seat, laying the crinkled sheets of paper on her lap.
“We really need a GPS unit in the car,” she muttered as she ran her finger over the page, trying to figure out where the next turn should be.
“I already have one of those,” Ralph said, reaching across the car’s center console and resting his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. She smiled back, but also rolled her eyes.
“Take a right turn at the stoplight,” she directed.
“Which one?” he asked while raising his chin, as if the extra inch he gained by the gesture would allow him to see further down the road.
“By the looks of this town,” Crystal said, disheartened by the noticeable lack of buildings, “the only stoplight.”
“It’s not that bad,” Ralph said, looking around himself.
They passed a few buildings on the outskirts of the small Colorado town, though the structures looked abandoned and in various stages of dilapidation. Crystal pointed out the appropriate direction when they reached a lonely stoplight several blocks down the road.