The call came in earlier than I expected. Edmund, the head of my department, sounded groggier than usual, most likely disappointed that he wouldn't be getting a daily blowjob from some aspiring narcissist, on account of the weather. It then took a second or so for the news to register in the back of my brain; before I stiffly crawled out of bed and peaked out our bedroom window. It was a white tundra of flakes running marathons on all our windshields and driveways.
I was soon looking back over at Naomi, who was curled into a symmetrical ball on her side of the bed; the subtle movements of her hands and fee making me contemplate what would be the logical starting point for such an abrupt gift of a day. I tip-toed out of our bedroom and into the baby's, wondering how much time I had. Usually my son would be our internal alarm clock; crying right before Naomi and I had to run all the hard-to-swallow lessons back through our heads.
That day was Divine, though. He snored like his mother, a similar dreamy smirk lining his face. I was in the clear; checking to make sure Naomi was also cancelled on the Internet, before unplugging our phone line and finally crawling back into bed next to her.
"Is it true or was I just dreaming too hard?" She asked me, eyes pensively closed.
"It's true." I smirked.
"And the baby?"
"I think you may be jinxing us right now."
"It wouldn't be any different from all those other times." I joked quietly.
"I've been trying to forget those times" She said lightly, before rolling over and facing me; her green eyes barely visible even inches from my face.
"So do we go back to sleep?" I questioned lightly conscious.
"Well, if we're already both awake..."
She then didn't bother to finish, but instead lazily straddled me and started the process. I instantly became passionate as possibilities for the day began to infinitely run around my head, not bothering to slow down and ask for directions while I kept repeating myself. I was truly in love with Naomi again, despite our rocky obligations to the past. She had grown out of the nine months of post-pregnancy depression; inexplicably aroused despite the sleepiness in both our bodies.
I didn't picture anyone else in my dream-like state as the mattress began to creek on the few bad springs. Our moans were internally silenced; mouths open with no sounds coming out for fear that it would all end as fast as it began. We were at the bar, lonesome, conversing on the same pages and sooner than later waking up without enough strength to call it another one-night stand. Naomi was vibrant again; every half-open blink turning into a kaleidoscope of former and latter images, all of which were undefinable in that particularly cold moment of the morning. We were the exhausted flakes falling for a similarly ironic mirror image of self and it was leisurely pleasing until the door bell rang.
Instantly the baby started crying, as we were quick to snap out of and away from our daze; each one of us scrambling for composure as an alternative blur of questions came forth. Who could possibly be at our front door on such a snowy morning? Our neighbors weren't the types to ask for favors.
I was still fumbling with the tie on my robe, when all variations of the day shattered into a sentimental egg-white of emotional re-attachment. My younger sister, Maude, stood reasonably threadbare on our front porch, soaked to a tee and amazingly bright despite her mysterious disappearance four years earlier.
"Hey Jude. Looks like I finally found you." Lighter than the expression on her face.
"Jesus Christ..." I stuttered before pulling her inside away from it all.
Cancellations on winter mornings wouldn't be the same again.