Quadruple Duty

“Why not?”

“Because it’s December. It’s practically closed.”

Sammara shrugged. “I’ll bet it’s still beautiful.”

I paused for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. D train. Let’s go.”

It was nice, having a girlfriend again. Having someone to talk to, to care for, to hold in my arms. And yes, to keep me warm at night. Inside and out.

And as cliche as it sounded? Sammara was the perfect girl for me. She was tough but sweet. Headstrong when it suited her, but soft beneath her hard exterior. She was thoughtful, and always caring. Yet she was never clingy, or possessive, or demanding.

I’d grown to care about her. So much that sometimes I even felt pangs of jealousy, when I saw her laughing with Dakota, or cuddling up to Kyle. It wasn’t a sexual jealousy either — that part, the sharing a girlfriend part, had been way hotter than I ever imagined it could be.

No, it more a jealousy of attention. I’d walk through the house, catch a glimpse of her being held or hugged or kissed, and I’d feel these little pangs of envy that she could be as close to someone else as she was with me.

Still, I’d learned to push it aside. Embrace it, even. These weren’t just my friends, they were my brothers-in-arms. They were men who’d saved my life — the closest people in all the world to me. Sharing Sammara with them wasn’t like losing her attention to anyone else. It was like keeping it within our own private circle. Multiplying the affection by three and four, rather than dividing it.

I loved that part as much as I loved her.

Our ride ended, and we stepped out onto the elevated platform. The wind had picked up some, crystallizing the snow, making everything look like it was covered in diamonds.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“What?”

“You were right… it is beautiful in the winter.”

Everything looked incredible, from the boardwalk and its shuttered shops to the old superstructure of the amusement park. We could see the Wonder Wheel, frozen in time. The great skeleton of the Cyclone, its winding tracks still covered in long snakes of ice-blown snow. We stepped forward, marveling at the vast expanse of open grey sky. Everything was eerie and dramatic. But just as Sammara said, also beautiful.

“I love you.”

I took her hands as I said it, turning to face her. Her eyes went glassy, and not just from the cold or wind.

“Oh baby, I love you too.”

Her mouth cracked into a smile as she pulled me in and kissed me. My whole world tilted. The Wonder Wheel started to spin.

It was incredible, the feeling of wholeness. Of being able to say it. To finally mean it, not just with my heart, or with words formed by my mouth, but with the entirety of my soul.

“You make me happy Ryan. You make me feel loved, and safe, and protected.” An ocean breeze picked up, playing with her hair. “I’m glad for the home we’ve built. I’m glad I’m with you…”

Her arms slid around me, and we held each other for a long time. The cold didn’t matter. The wind, the snow — none of it played a factor, because all that existed was my heart against her heart, beating together, silently conveying a message that no amount of words ever could.

A smell wafted in — a very familiar smell. Kissing her one more time I grinned down at Sammara and pulled her along the boardwalk with me.

“Where are we—”

“Nathan’s World Famous hot dogs,” I said proudly. “At least they’re still open.”

Forty

SAMMARA

The New Year came, and winter gave way to spring. It was astonishingly pretty, seeing the trees come back to life. Watching the ice melt on the lake, as the warmth of the sun breathed life back into the world all around us.

Kyle and Dakota were still away, but they communicated often. We text-messaged almost every day, and they were able to video chat a few times as well. Wherever they were, it was extremely warm. I envied that at first, but over time I found myself actually enjoying hunkering down with Ryan. Enjoying the reassuring feel of the warm fire he always kept stoked in the house, especially on the colder days where it stung your eyes and bit at your skin.

By the end of March, the house was nearly done. The beautiful multi-colored rooms had been meticulously restored, or repainted where they had to be. The trim work was immaculate, the wood finishes stained and polished, the recessed ceilings washed white and clean and new. Even the floor had been brought back