Grace turned the key in her old ’94 Wagoneer. The engine revved but didn’t start. She turned it again, harder this time, and the engine kicked, puffed, and then began to growl. This was of course, expected, as the car was old and the climate was cold, but she loved the car and wouldn’t trade it until it completely broke down.

She pulled out of their little one car driveway, backing over a few clumps of snow, and then turned and headed down the street. She had told Greg she was only going out to get cigarettes, but she knew in her heart that this was a lie. 

The winter had been tough, in fact, all of the seasons for the past year had been. Greg had lost his job at the warehouse and their house was slowly falling into disarray—the emptiness piling up just like the snow. 

Grace had had a feeling that morning, a strange feeling that she hadn’t had since she was in highs school—a feeling that was tied to Teddy, her first boyfriend. He had left their hometown after they had graduated and she saw him rarely, but whenever he was in town, she got the same feeling. A little spark of life, romance, love—that kind of love that can only exist in the wildness and naivety of young life. Grace loved Greg, but she loved Teddy more, and this feeling was so intense and poignant that she had to follow it. 

As she drove out of their little culdesac, the snow started fall. She began driving to the south side of town, unsure why, for she was not sure if Teddy’s family still even lived in that area. 

As she pulled off the main road and onto the small dirt road that led to his old family’s modest little farm, she saw many cars all parked along the road, and a large cluster of people up ahead. She slowed her car, and squinted her eyes to make out what was going on through the snow. 

As she got closer, she realized everyone was dressed in black. This was a funeral. A knot formed in her stomach, a pit of dread, as she pulled to the side of the road. 

“Grace?” An elderly woman called out to her. “Can that really be you?” The woman rushed to Grace, her makeup streaked down her face, a contrast with the falling snow gathered on her clothes and hat. 

“Oh, Mrs. Kelly, yes.” Grace said, embracing her quickly, the knot in her stomach gnawing and gnawing. “Who passed, Mrs. Kelly? And is Teddy here?”

The woman withdrew from Grace sharply, and began to sob. Grace pulled her back in, a dizzying feeling overtaking her. She held the woman, as she felt like she was spinning with the swirling snow. 

“Oh, he loved you dear. He loved you very much.” Mrs. Kelly said threw sobs. 

“How did he go?” Grace asked, biting her lip to stop herself from shaking. 

But Mrs. Kelly just looked at her with a wide eyes full of regret and pain and she shook her head. 

The funeral was well attended though Grace recognized few people there. When it was over, Mrs. Kelly invited her in for coffee, but she politely declined. 

“I don’t think I can handle that right now, but thank you Mrs. Kelly.”

Then she climbed back into her ’94 wagoneer and pulled out onto the dirt road and then onto the main road and then onto the interstate heading West as the sun broke through the clouded sky and the rain veil broke and the snow turned to sleet. 

Teddy had killed himself. No one had said so at the funeral, at least not directly, but she understood. The casket was closed and the sorrow could only be explained by something that tragic. 

As she drove, the sleet falling and thrashing the car, she remembered something Teddy had told her when she was fifteen years younger:

“Go to California.” He had said. “It’s warm there and you’re pretty enough to make it in the movies.”

It’s warm there, she thought. It’s warm there.