The Storm of the Century

Only the clock knew the time. Outside, sheets of snow fall under layers of clouds, concealing day or night. But for the light glowing atop, the streetlamp barely visible. A halo in the darkness. Tomorrow, the Times' front page will read, "The Storm of the Century!"

Maria, wearing a snow-white dress, delicately laced, peeks behind the creme-colored drapes again, as she has every 5 minutes for the past two-hours. Nothing visible at first. However, in the distance, a figure, perhaps a man, walks briskly wearing a black fog coat and large-brimmed hat covering his face.

"He's here!" she chimes excitedly.

A cluster of faces occupies and searches through the six-pane window. At the window bends Ms. Crusoe, the widowed upstairs neighbor, crouching to a pane; Edith, Maria’s sister, peers through the pane beside Maria; Enet and Ralph, long-time family friends, occupy the top panes; and their two small children press their faces against a bottom pane.

Anyu and Apu, Maria’s parents, hurriedly squeeze through the hallway between the kitchen and parlor replacing empty trays with full ones.

John gets up, puts on his tuxedo jacket, adjusts the cuffs, and walks to the front door. The figure struggles up the walkway, gingerly climbing the steps. The faces follow and crowd behind John who stands with his hand on the doorknob.

After the first of a three-knock attempt, John opens the door. Seeing the figure, he disappointedly sighs, "Oh, it's you" before closing the door on the visitor's face. "Oh John!" exclaims Maria. "Let him in."

John turns to his audience and smirks, before opening the door again. "Come in, you jerk" he laughs, and Don enters. A row of snow, inch-high, covers the hat’s brim, matching the mound of flakes resting upon his shoulders.

"Father here yet?" asks Don. "No," replies John, "no sign yet, although" John gestures outside, "God seems pretty clear about signs." Maria brushes the snow off Don’s shoulder and removes his coat, while John brings the toaster-sized wrapped box and plops it on a cabinet with other similar-sized gifts.

"Come on," John says, "Let's get you a drink." The men peel from and through the audience and enter the parlor.

In the parlor, Apu sits smiling beside John. He motions to the tray resting on the coffee table. "No, no thank you" says John with exaggeration, hoping translation through emphasis, "Much too hot for my taste." Apu taps his own puffed-out chest, signaling that this is a test of manhood. John shrugs, "When in Rome," and downs the sandwich as if taking a shot of brutally strong whiskey. "Ah," gasps John, "Not bad" he pretends, then motions for Apu to have his share. In broken English Apu says, "Oh, no. That is a nasty food. Too strong!" Apu messes up John's finely greased hair, laughing at the prank’s success.

Above the conversations, the phone rings. Maria rushes to the wall, spins a turn or two, wrapping herself in the cord. "Hello?" she begins. "John. John! The phone." John leaves the couch deliberately enough to conceal his excitement, sharing the phone. He shifts again, twisting Maria for another turn under the chord, and they bring the phone to their ears, side-by-side.

"Well, I'll be damned" starts John. "Oh, sorry Father. I mean, how the hell are you. Ugh. I mean, where are you?"

At the other end, Father O'Shea says in a muffled voice, "The secret is to keep dimes in your penny-loafers. I'm at the phonebooth outside Eddie's Deli. I'll be damned if… I mean, I didn't think there was a soul on this Earth, let alone a party at Maria's place."

"Yeah, well, there can't be a party without the man-of-the-hour."

"John," Father O'Shea replies, "I may very well be the least important part of this night's trinity. But God willing" Father O'Shea pauses, "I'll be there in about an hour-and-half."

"God speed to you Father, and I mean literally, go with the speed of God. I'm four drinks deep. I might not have the faculty to follow your interrogation."

"You 'do', right?" Father asks and John nods unseen, “Let's make that the official response and then I'll attest to your affirmation while we prop you up against Maria."

"Right, Father. God knows she will need the strength."

John releases the phone. Maria twists, unraveling herself under the chord before thanking father and setting it down on the receiver.

John faces the audience, raising his arms, "Forty-days and forty-nights of snow can't stop God's prophecy! Despite her effort, Mother Nature is no match for God's will. There might still be a Mrs. Bryan by the end of the night!"

The audience raises their glasses in toast and cheer, and Maria reveals a bright smile.

Maria sits beside Edith, who asks how this day was ought to be. "Oh, Edith. So beautiful. I was at Saint Patrick's last night. Brand new votives with a fresh set of matches were already in place. The flowers, oh you should see them, were set perfectly up front, just like Apu’s garden."

Edith smiles lovingly as Maria continues.

"After the ceremony, the party would move across the street to the VWF. There were twelve large tables, each table setting decorated with candles, flowers and a gift-bag. Michael's band was going to be in the back. He showed me most of the playlist. All of our favorite songs, and a few surprises, he said."

Maria's eyes, drifting far off in the distance, falling to her lap. Her smile fades, crestfallen. Edith holds Maria's hands. "Oh dearest, it sounds heavenly."

Maria steadies her trembling lips and nearly pulls off a smile. "I best check on Anyu, she is working too hard in the kitchen."

In the kitchen, Maria stands beside Anyu who is rinsing the crystals in the sink. "Go to your husband," Anyu says in Hungarian. "No," Maria replies in a similar tongue as she picks up a crystal and washcloth. "John was looking forward to the Church. And Apu? He spent everything for this day, and now it's ruined. This day is ruined" Maria says broken.

Anyu takes the crystal from Maria's hand. "No. Ruined for who? John is a lucky man, he knows this. Yes, Apu's money will be like the brown snow, in two days, flushing useless down the street gutters." Maria takes another crystal from the sink and begins washing again. Anyu, liking her analogy, continues, "Money is like snow. Enough is good, but too much?" Anyu shrugs matter-the-fact, very impressed with her own argument. "No matter. I see snow and I look up to the sky and thank Jesus. It turns brown and disappears into the gutter. Do I say, 'Oh, Jesus, why did you take my snow?'" Anyu says with a whining voice. "No," she continues more sternly, "I say thank you Jesus for the snow. I appreciate what You give and when You give. Now, go to your husband." Anyu grabs the crystal from Maria and turns away.

Maria stops at the doorway, watching the revelers. Edith showing off her shoes to an enthusiastic Ms. Crusoe and a less enthusiastic Don; Enet resting her head on Ralph's shoulder, while their children sleep side-by-side under the coffee table; and John and Apu are engrossed in a pantomime discussion.

Maria smiles sadly and walks down the hallway to Apu's garden room. She peruses the flowers - the Hibiscus, roses, and daisies - before delicately inspecting a Lilly of the Valley between her fingers. Maria becomes lost in memories. Meeting John at Edith's engagement party when she first thought, "I am going to marry that man." Their first date at the airport when John asked, "You don't beat children, do you?" The day when John proposed, while buttoning her coat and stumbling with his words. "What have we done?" she thinks aloud. "We were so happy the way things were. Is tonight a sign? A signal against greed? Why disturb that which is already perfect?"

Maria releases the Lilly, opens the back screen door and sits on a soft blanket of white snow on the second step at the back porch. She watches the snow fall as if it was the constellation Columba, Noah's dove informing the flood's retreat. The screen door opens, and John sits beside Maria, draping his arm across her shoulder.

They sit under the quiet sky. Maria making a family of snowmen and John staring upwards. “If I told you that I love you, would you think there something wrong?” asks John.

Maria replies lightly, “I might.”

John ponders, chuckling softy. “Yes, there was a time I would have thought the same.”

“Do you remember Edith’s engagement, the first time we met?”

Maria nods quietly.

“I went home and told my dad that I met the girl I’m going to marry. He sat there reading his paper, never even lifting his eyes. Then, after too long a pause, he said, ‘I know.’”

The snow continues falling, Maria completing a family of five little snowmen.

"Not what you imagined?" John says.

Maria turns to John, smiles sweetly, "No. More than I could have ever imagined."