BANGERZ (2014)

25. Fall

"Oh my God, it's snowing!" I exclaim, barely believing my eyes at the wintry scene unfolding outside. I'm so shocked and ecstatic that I practically drop the spray paint can I'm holding and rush over to the window for a closer look.

"Snowing?" Za repeats incredulously, shaking up another can of paint and examining his canvas. He tilts his head as if there's a science to the colorful splatter he's put together so far.

"Yes! It's magical!" I bob up and down, pointing out at the street with all the animation of a cartoon character. I've never seen snow in person before, and it's as pretty and frosty and marvelous as it is in the movies.

"You sound like you're in Disneyland."

"Never been."

"You've never been to Disneyland?" Za sputters, flabbergasted.

"Nope. I'm probably the only Cali kid who hasn't - just come look! It's coming down fast! And it's glittering like actual little snowflakes are falling!"

"Wow," Za says, though what he's responding to I'm not sure. He sounds amused, though, so he probably can't believe that I haven't visited the land where dreams come true but act like the biggest kid at the sight of snowfall. But this, and everything happening in the midst of it, is like a dream for me: just as unreal, just as treasured.

Regardless, he maneuvers around the work benches and tables topped with grease rags, various metal tools, and distinctly labeled engine fluids - common supplies of a car shop - and walks over to join me at the window. Understandably, he widens his eyes and stares for a moment at the flurries falling steadily from the sky. Once they hit the ground they collect and cluster, covering the streets and sidewalks with a sheet of snow.

"When's the last time it snowed like this?" I wonder. "When has it ever snowed like this? In California?"

Za shrugs, and then ponders on my legit question. "1980? It was called the Miracle on Ice? We talked about it in Econ... Or was that Lit...?"

"Miracle on Ice?" I laugh. "Za, that was a hockey game in the 1980 Olympics. The U.S. won the gold over the Russians?" I explain, jogging his memory. "We talked about it in Econ, yes, but Jason mentioned it yesterday - "

"Because America wouldn't have won if they were playing the Canadians," he finishes, enlightenment dawning on his expression. "Right. I remember. I just kinda zone out when Jason talks about hockey, and I start thinking 'bout Friday the 13th. If he come at me with a mask and one of them sticks we gon' have a problem."

I laugh again. "As if you can play it here. I don't think it's snowed like this in our lifetime. And if it has, I definitely don't remember it - not in San Diego."

"It's rare, but it happens. Especially if you're not too close to the beach, like North Shore."

"That explains why it's been pretty cold this year," I note, transferring my gaze back to the window. The dimming sky captures my attention and a thought occurs. "Wait a minute. If it's cold enough for it to be snowing, then it must be late..." I check my wristwatch. "Whoa, it's five o'clock! Where'd the time go?"

"Time flies when you're being creative," Za cheeses, following me over to the work table I've been painting at for the last three hours.

"Nocturnal creativity," I muse.

"That's right. So are you finished with it?"

I bite my lip and study my project. It's completely subconscious at this point, an unintentional gesture. However, I'm so used to Jason telling me to stop that I do it myself once I realize. I feel his presence, feel his influence and affection, even when he's not here.