“Reacquaint”

A snowflake falls into Nadia’s eyelash. She blinks and it becomes an artificial tear. It’s okay. She’s used to the wetness in her eyes.

Last week her father killed her sister. For so many years they fought, and then one day, the war was over. No victory flag was raised. Only a black wave of sorrow and regret washed over the fallen bodies.

Her memories vanish as she hears the sound of crunching snow beneath the soles of heavy boots making their way to her. She looks up to the see the man dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and blue jeans. She can’t help but think that Sydney was right: he does have the bluest eyes she’s ever seen.

“Will?” she says.

He nods. “Nadia?”

She nods too.

They stand underneath the snow clouds for a moment, unsure of their next move, their next sentence.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asks.

She tucks her cold hands into the pockets of her coat. “Sure.”

Nadia follows him down the street to a coffee shop. It’s small and homey. It reminds her of a shop she used to visit often in Argentina. There’s a rich aroma lingering in the air: coffee beans and vanilla and tea leaves.

Will holds out a chair for her before sitting down. He folds his hands on top of the table. “So, uh, thanks for coming.”

“I know how much my sister meant to you,” Nadia says.

“I love—I loved Sydney very much.” Will lowers his head. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with this.”

Nadia frowns. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

She wishes she can do something for him. She may have been Sydney’s sister, but Will Tippin had been Sydney’s oldest friend. A true confidant who practically would have died for her.

“The funeral,” he says in a raspy whisper.

“Next to Daniel Hect,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s what Sydney would have wanted. End it where it all began.”

Nadia feels the wetness growing in her eyes again. She holds back the tears, but the knot in her stomach continues to twist and turn.

“Sydney spoke very fondly of you.” She hopes this will make Will feel better. “She said you were a talented writer with a kind heart. She said there weren’t a lot of people like you in the world. Someone who was genuinely full of goodness.”

Will does smile. It’s a small one, but it’s still a smile.

“She showed me a picture of you once,” Nadia continues. “It was of you, and Sydney, and Francie. You were all smiling and happy. Sydney said it was because you were all together. That’s why the three of you were so happy.”

Will’s smile fades. “Pictures can be deceiving.”

“But memories aren’t,” Nadia argues. “You were happy in that memory. It should stay that way.”

“You know, when Sydney told me she had a sister, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, Sydney was the classic only child. I didn’t know how she was going to deal with sharing things and fighting over the stupidest things like I did with my sister,” Will sighs, and looks over at Nadia, “but I guess it turned out all right.”

Nadia offers him a smile. “Sydney was a blessing in my life. She taught me the meaning of family.”

“Same here,” Will says.

They both turn their heads as the feeling of sadness wallows inside them.

Nadia checks the time on her watch. “I should go. My flight leaves soon.”

They get up from their seats and return to the snow outside.

Nadia wraps the black scarf around her neck and looks at Will. “You should come visit sometime.”

Will looks up to the gray skies. “I definitely need to get away from this weather.”

Nadia laughs. “I don’t know how you can live in it.”

“It’s called long underwear,” he says with a chuckle.

She looks down at the small mound of snow collecting on her shoes. “I mean it, Will, you should come and visit.”

He takes a moment to respond. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

She puts a hand on his arm. “Take care of yourself.”

He raises his own hand to her shoulder and gently squeezes it. “You too, and thank you again for coming.”

“If I catch a cold…” Her hand falls from him.

He steps back. “Send me the hospital bill.”

Before she turns to leave, he speaks up one more time.

“What happened to Jack?” he asks.

Another snowflake lands on her eyelash, quickly dissolving into another tear. She blinks and another tear appears. It’s not a snowflake after all. There is nothing artificial about this.

She speaks in a low voice. “My father is dead.”