Page 122 of Cocky Caveman

FOMO AND A GHOST

Tucker

Trudging through the fresh snowfall, the six of us take a walk after filling up on Christmas lunch and dessert. We’re heading down the driveway toward the forest that surrounds my parents’ home in an upside-down U-shape. The winter wonderland landscape will be a perfect backdrop for Alice to take her outdoor Christmas Day photos with the family and Shamus.

The sun will set in about an hour, so we need to hurry and get our snow angels made. It will get dark around mid-afternoon.

We spend as much time outdoors in the daylight as we can when we visit from mid-December to the start of March—soaking up the winter season with all the activities on offer—weather and sunlight permitting.

We have already crammed so much into the past nine days, filling our time here with hiking, snowmobiling, ice fishing, dog mushing, and driving up to Fairbanks to take in the magic of Aurora Borealis—the northern lights.

Snowball wars happen at least once a day when somebody inevitably hurls one at an unsuspecting person’s head. We build snowmen, getting creative making a few ‘naughty’ snowmen—as Alice would call them—with inappropriately placed carrots.

My oldest sister reminds us constantly that as adults, we can forget how much fun we had as a kid, but she never lets any of us fail to find the carefree person inside of us.

But always first up on the agenda when I arrive is to help Dad cut down a Christmas tree from the woods that form part of my parents’ property, and then my mom and sisters decorate it. Alice looks forward to decorating the tree and some rooms in my parents’ house, so I never decorate my home in Redondo Beach for this reason.

Every night when my head hits the pillow, I dream of Ophelia, who is never far from my mind during my waking hours, but during my alone time, she’s filling my nights. I wish she were here, naked and—

“Tucker! Let’smake snow angels before we take photos.” Alice hops back and forth on each leg, waving her arms in my face to get my attention.

Okay, so we had already arrived at our destination while I was all up in my head.

There’s a perfect blanket of clean, white snow laid out before us, begging to have snow angels etched into it.

“You got it, sis!” I grin stupidly at her, rubbing my gloved hands together. It’s freezing outside around minus six, but we will warm up with this activity.

Teagan, my twin, moves to one side of Alice, grinning just as goofily, and I position myself on the other side. “Everybody take a large step to your left,” I command. You don’t want to connect with the next person when we start flapping.

“Shamus, don’t think you’re getting out of hurling yourself into the snow and flapping your arms and legs,” Alice shouts at my best friend.

“Aye, Alice. You can count on me. For now, I’m the official photographer for the next few minutes, and then we can swap around. I shall think up a prize for the person who takes the funniest picture.”

“Yaaay!”Alice claps her mittened hands. Her face lights up with joy. The love she has for Christmas and her family is infectious, and quite frankly, it helps me more than she can imagine. I’m not too fond of the MacDougall brothers having all the fun with their neighbors, especially at Christmas, and I can’t.

“On the count of three, and I want this picture to be next year’s Christmas card, so I want mega energy,” Shamus hollers at all of us, “One… two—”

“Buddy, it’s on your head if you miss capturing this moment,” I holler back before Teagan, and I lean in and kiss Alice’s frosty cheeks making her giggle as though we are tickling her.

“Don’t worry about me, Tucker. I won’t let the team down.Aaand…THREE!” he shouts.

Everyone hurls themselves backward, laughing, and flapping arms and legs as though our lives depend on it, while Shamus snaps away, stomping through the snow to get the right angles for his pictures.

I check the time while flat on my back. I figure the MacDougall brothers will be making their way over soon enough to present my gifts to Ophelia with the time difference minimal to Alaska.

I hope the miniatures and the Papillons make it to Ophelia’s Instagram page. I have set up an account under Cocky Caveman and have been liking her posts. I’m sure she knows it’s me, but I just can’t seem to step away completely. The force is strong to take a peek into her life continually.

Nobody in my Alaskan family knows what I have organized. Only Shamus. I told my sisters to keep Ophelia a secret for now. There is no point getting my mother’s hopes up, and I don’t want a thousand questions.

If all goes well when I get reunited with Ophelia—and I hope it does—then I’ll have a ring on her finger by next Christmas. A man’s heart doesn’t ache like mine does since we’ve been apart if it doesn’t realize it has found someone special.

Sometimes you just know.

And I know.

Alice’s excitement at getting reunited with our parents has kept her mind distracted, so she hasn’t started asking me about Ophelia and when I’ll see her next, but she will. She carries Butthead, the plush goat, everywhere in her backpack, reminding me she hasn’t forgotten about Ophelia.

I promised I wouldn’t make voice contact and I would leave Ophelia without distractions from me, but that will be a challenging task to continue, so the gift-giving alleviates some pressure.

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