Inclement Weather

Steam rises in thick puffs from my hot chocolate as I sip sporadically from it. I can feel the pinch of winter blush in my cheeks, the chill setting in on any part of me that isn't exposed as I sat bundled up in the middle of Central Park. I take another warming sip.
It was a long day at work today, but thankfully the last before the few days that I have off this season. So many people of so many different stories, reacting to you in so many different ways. For instance, a simple "How are you" could either be met with the basic "Fine, thanks" or a story about how it took three hours to get into town today, or how the lines in Macy's are ridiculous, or how their grandmother just died, or how they won't get to see their family this Christmas; or so many other tragic stories. It was almost enough to dim my own infamously bright Christmas spirit. Almost. I take another sip.
Lains and Brie are at home right now, probably having a disastrous time of setting up the tree. I really should be there to provide some expertise, but I needed a little "me" time. I'll head home in a few; thank God for whatever miracle led us to that fantastic apartment so close to the park! It's really the most beautiful thing, especially around Christmas time. Lights on the trees look like stars that the earth borrowed from heaven for a little while. The dimly lit lampposts along the pathways make it feel like a classic holiday movie, wherein life is wonderful. There's even a light peppering of snow beginning to fall. One curious flake falls onto my shoulder, and just as quickly turns to water and disappears. Another sip.
I shouldn't have said good bye the way I did.

A stranger stops to ask me the time, startling me a little. I tell him; it's ten-thirty. It earns me a crinkly grin and a "Merry Christmas" as the older man shuffles away. The snow is coming down a little harder now. Ten-thirty. Almost an hour since I watched him enter Gate 12, shoulders heavy, not looking back. I'm so sorry.
I down the remains of the hot chocolate - I can feel a storm in the works as the wind suddenly picks up speed and chills me to the bone. Tossing the cup in the garbage can next to my bench, I throw my purse over my shoulder and draw my coat closer to me to brave the cold. I hide my face in the scarf.
"Since when do you know how to knit? You know you're just making it that much easier for Lainey," I'd said.
"Approximately since I decided I wanted to make a scarf. And I can handle Lainey," he replied with a smirk.
"Well thank you," I smiled, "a bit random, but thank you!"

"Well, it's gonna be extra cold this year... and plus..."

I really wish he had stopped before those last two words. Maybe we could have parted in peace. Maybe I would be able to get some sleep tonight.

"And plus... it's a gift. From me to you," he explained, his voice quivering a little, which even at the time I found strange. He stared at his feet, smiled awkwardly, and then glanced up at me. "Merry Christmas, Elly. I'll miss you."

What I completely overlooked was the fact that his gaze was unchanging for the longest time; just... looking at me. Seeing me. Saying something to me in a language I wasn't trying hard enough to understand.
"You won't miss me. You'll be soaking up those Floridian rays, frolicking with the dolphins, and I won't even cross your mind," I joked. At least, I thought it was a joke.
"Not true."
He met my gaze again, a furrowed brow trying to gage my reaction. I looked down and fidgeted nervously with the scarf. He went for it anyway. A simple lean... nothing to it, really. A shifting of weight in my general direction. He could have just meant to hug me, if it weren't for the conspicuous angle of his head and even more alarming direction of his eyes. I may or may not have audibly gasped.

To add coal to an already raging fire of awkwardness, I leaned in as well... but keeping my face well away from his, ensuring that this was just a friendly hug. Arms around his shoulders, a quick pat, and done.
"I'll see you later, Diggs," I blurted, not realizing until later how much more piercing that made my rejection. I felt awful.

He walked away with a simple nod. He didn't even make eye contact. Ugh, what an awful, awful person I am!

I wasn't entirely sure if he still wanted me to have the scarf; a haphazard working of multi-coloured yarn that wasn't perfectly straight. Still I looked on it with the admiration that a mother has for her child's first painting. But he wouldn't be needing it in Florida, so if he did want it back I would have to wait until he returned to give it back. That much was fine by me. I could enjoy it while I still had it; I worried that I had missed that same opportunity with Digby.

It was just as I was nearing the exit of the park that I spotted him. He was perched on one of the benches along the path, hot chocolate in hand. He took a sip.

Clearly, I'm hallucinating. I've been thinking about him too much and it's invading my logic. Nothing but my mind's eye is projecting that wavy brown hair, those gentle shoulders, those scrawny little legs. It's inventing how badly he's shivering as he attempts to take another sip, spilling some onto his lap.

"Damn it."

Wow, I didn't realize I had a mind's ear as well. Imaginary Digby feels around in his pockets for anything to clean his pants, and in doing so, Imaginary Digby catches sight of my frozen stance, not ten feet away from him. Eye contact. Suddenly Imaginary Digby is not so imaginary.

"Digby... how are you here?"

"Flight was delayed until tomorrow night," he said, taking a quick demonstrative glance at the thick clouds of snow falling around us, "inclement weather."

A moment of silence passed between us as I fought to find words to say that would be anywhere near appropriate. I began to move towards him, lips pursed, eyes down, and plopped myself next to him on the bench.

"I missed you," I whispered, barely audible above the wind. I leaned on his snowy shoulder and closed my eyes as I felt him hesitantly move his arm to hold me.

"You're wearing my scarf," he noted. I nodded. Suddenly I felt his lips press onto the top of my head, gently. "Thank you."

And a moment of peaceful silence later, his hot chocolate was set aside, and we kept each other warm with sweet, simple kisses. Sweet, beautiful kisses. And my scarf.