She slipped on her polished red snow boots and her deep black coat. She pulled her brown hair back and snuck to the front door, then stood in place and looked out the living room window. Expecting a loud screech that could awaken her parents in seconds, she opened the front door slowly. Nothing. She smiled with relief and stepped outside into the bitter cold cautiously without slipping on the ice covered porch. She closed the door, and headed toward the streetlamp where Ryan stood.
It was always on the coldest December nights. She would stand in front of the living room window and wait for him to signal an “okay” from across the street. They were not allowed to talk. Her parents called him “squirrelly.” His parents said she was too young. So they lied and sneaked around behind their parents’ backs. She’d see him under the streetlight, hands in his pockets. When Ryan saw Christine, he’d wave okay.
The light from the streetlamp cut through the night’s ominous dark, and illuminated the newly fallen snow. Everything was desolate. Her arms were crossed across her chest as she tucked her hands under her shoulders for warmth. She could feel her face numbing. Approaching Ryan, they both smiled at each other.
His rich brown hair and deep blue eyes had always captivated Christine. He was considerably sweet and generous to those around him. Most importantly, he always could bring a smile to Christine’s face.
They greeted each other happily exchanging hugs and kisses. She noticed one hand behind his back. After the hug, he moved the hand behind his back toward her line of sight; in that hand, she made out what appeared to be a plump brown stuffed bear with a photobook book in its arms.
She looked into his eyes with a huge smile of surprise and embarrassment as her cheeks turned a peachy red. She didn’t know what to say. Ryan grabbed her right hand and placed the bear in her left arm. They stood close to each other.
“I love this so much,” she told him.
“The photos are of all the moments we have had so far,” he mentioned. He took the book and opened it up to a random page. He put his finger on one of the images. “Remember the time we went down by the river for a walk?”
“That was so much fun,” she answered. They laughed together flipping to other pages in the book. She stopped on one page where her and Ryan were sitting together at a coffee shop in town. Ryan had just spilled his coffee onto the floor as they sat together laughing. Next to that photo was them sitting together smiling at the camera as they held each other's hands. She turned to him looking upset. He looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Why do we have to see each other this way?” she replied as she put her head on his shoulder. Ryan extended his arms around her in empathy.
“This is just the only way we can be together,” Ryan softly whispered in her ear.
She knew he was right. Her parents would just intervene again if they found out. She didn’t care that she was sixteen and he was nineteen. She loved him for who he was. She wallowed in her mind with disbelief and not knowing what she should do. A tear shed from her eye.
Her mind shifted back to their first time together. That very evening when things turned sour and cold was clear in her memory. They had just returned from town as everything had a warm salmon glow. Christine and Ryan’s parents were standing on the respective sides of them with bitter looks of disappointment. Christine’s father had held a stern look over Ryan as he austerely told him to stay away from his beloved daughter. Ryan stood nervously without a word from his mouth, and nodded tensely. Christine stood in shock avoiding eye contact with her parents. They both walked home with their parents, both angered and saddened.
Ryan was facing the house when he noticed Christine’s bedroom light flip on. To get Christine's attention, he shook her intensely. Her mind quickly shifted back to reality as her eyes widened and her breathing quickened in shock. They hugged each other for what they thought would be the last time. They both departed as she quickly made her way back to her house. She could feel the adrenaline pumping.
She opened the door and entered her house disregarding the screech of the door. Quickly, she slipped off her boots next to the doorway and threw her coat onto the side of the couch. She looked up and noticed her parents standing before her in their pajamas looking out the living room window. They both turned their attention to her distraught body and tremored face with the stuffed bear clutched in her hand.
“I can explain!” she exalted.

Christine’s father was a stiff overworked man in his fifties. His hair was already turning a pewter grey. The tough sound of his voice nearly made anyone he met respect him instantly. However, he was calm and quiet unless something needed to be said. He held his family values close, and often let his happiness dwindle below him. And when he gets angry, the whole world stops.
Her parents looked at her almost as if they were expecting her to say something else. Christine just stood there, hesitant.
Her father's voice turned tiresome. “What is it?”
Before her father could say anything else, she finally opened her mouth and murmured three words.
“I love him,” she proclaimed as she collapsed to the floor in agony. For the first time in her life, she revolted her parents control.  She explained to her parents about what she was feeling. A feeling of containment had settled in, almost overprotected. She didn’t even feel trusted by her own parents. “Give me a real reason why I cannot be with him,” she asked tearfully. Once she had finished, everyone stood quietly. Her father adjusted both of the cufflinks on his pajamas.
The clock in the other room struck one in the morning as its chime rung through the whole house and broke the silence. Christine’s mother suggested that everyone should head to bed.
“We can discuss this tomorrow,” her mother added. Everyone nodded and departed in agreement.
Christine made her way down the dark hallway across the living room to her bedroom. The floor creaked with every step she took. She opened her door. She slipped on her pajamas in the darkness of her room with only the light from the streetlamp seeping in from the window to see. She climbed in bed wiping the last of her tears from her face. She pulled the blanket over body as she rested her head on the pillow with her eyes wide open. She could hear the wind of winter rustling outside her window.  All she could think about was Ryan.
“I need you,” she whispered to herself.
She began to think about the happiness he brought her. She remembered the picnics in the park on a warm summer’s day, or the snowman they made down by the river two weeks ago. The thoughts were endless. Her mind then drew toward what she thought about her parents. She felt responsible yet withheld. If only her parents could let her make her own decisions for once.

The morning soon came as Christine awoke to the sun’s profuse light filling her room through her window. She slowly made her way out of the comfort of her bed toward her window. Taking a deep breath, she looked outside to see a fresh layer of snow across the ground. Everything in sight was level. No tire tracks, displacement, or footsteps.
The memories of the past night returned to her mind as fruitless and frustrating as they were when they happened. She considered making her way downstairs, but she was worried about what her parents might say to her. She even wondered what would happen to Ryan and her as a result. The floor creaked as she dreadfully made her way to the door. Just before she reached for the doorknob, she had second thoughts and stood still. She closed her eyes in fear believing that leaving her room for that would be a sign of her surrender. Powerless, she opened the door and slowly made her way down the hallway.
By the time she had reached the living room, she could smell a thick scent of bacon and pancakes. Confused, she progressed her way toward the kitchen. She saw her parents were smiling and making pancakes together as the bacon sizzled in the frying pan. A noise sounded from Christine’s feet. Her parents heard it and turned their attention to Christine standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her mother grabbed three plates and three sets of silverware and handed them to Christine. Her mother calmly told her to set the table. Surprised by the actions of her parents, Christine listened and made her way to the dining table on the other side of the kitchen.
Christine finished her task and walked back into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” her father told her with the eyes of regret. Christine didn’t comment, and her father interestingly didn’t seem to expect a reply.
Christine’s eyes tended toward her father’s undone cufflinks on his pajamas. She looked surprised as she doesn’t recall him ever wearing them like that.
All the fear of coming downstairs to confront her parents had diminished. She expected the conversion to heatedly continue with her father once again laying down a set of expectations. But her father apologized without anything to counter her feelings from last night. For the first time in a while, she actually spoke up for herself and her hand was favored. Her father on the other hand seemed changed. He opened restrains on her, and finally let his daughter play by her own instincts.
Her mother placed the bacon onto a clean plate and brought it, along with the plate of pancakes, to the table. Christine and her parents took their seats at each table setting. Her father looked up to his daughter and smiled as he passed the plate of pancakes to her.
“When do you go to see Ryan today,” he asked.
She smiled back at him with a gleeful face. No longer would she have to keep her love a secret she thought to herself.