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“Give me two seconds to put my boots on.”
“Perfect!”
While I put on my red down coat and gloves by the front door, Simona picks up her blue down coat and a wooly cap.
“Let’s play!” I say, pulling her by the arm.
We walk through the snow until we’re in front of Flyn’s playroom and then begin our very own snowball fight. At first, Simona seems shy, but, after a few of my attacks, she warms up. We pick up the snow and, laughing the whole time, throw snowballs at each other.
Surprised by us, Norbert comes out to see what’s going on. At first, he’s reluctant to join in, but two minutes later, I’ve won him over, and he’s in our game. Flyn watches. I see him through the windows.
“C’mon, Flyn ... Come join us!”
The kid shakes his head no, and we carry on. I ask Norbert to bring the sled from the garage. When he brings it over, I see it’s red. Delighted, I scamper on and push myself off a snow-covered slope. I experience quite a thump when I hit bottom, but the fluffy snow cushions me, and I can’t stop laughing. The next one to slide is Simona, and then we go together. We end up covered in snow, but happy, in spite of Norbert’s look of discomfort. He doesn’t trust us. Suddenly, and against all odds, I see Flyn coming outside.
“C’mon, Flyn, let’s go!”
I invite him to take a turn on the sled. He looks at me with misgivings, so I tell him, “C’mon, I’ll sit in front, and you sit behind me. Sound good?”
Encouraged by Simona and Norbert, the kid does as I say, and, as carefully as I can, I push us down the slope. My shrieks of joy blend in with his, and when the sled stops, he asks me, overjoyed, “Can we do it again?”
Thrilled to see a look on his face I’ve never seen before, I agree. We both run up to Simona and slide down again.
From that moment on, it’s all laughter. For the first time since my arrival in Germany, Flyn is acting like a kid. When I manage to convince him to slide by himself on the sled, the look of satisfaction on his face fills my soul.
He’s smiling!
His smile is addictive, precious, and wonderful, until his face suddenly changes. When I turn to see what he’s looking at, I see Susto running toward us. Norbert left the garage open, and, hearing our play, Susto couldn’t help himself and has come out to join us. Afraid, the boy goes stock-still, and I whistle. Susto comes up to me, and I grab him by the head.
“Don’t be afraid, Flyn.”
“Dogs bite,” he whispers, paralyzed.
I remember what the boy said that day in bed, and, stroking Susto, I try to calm him down.
“No, dear, not all dogs bite. And Susto won’t; I know that for sure.” But the kid isn’t convinced, and I insist while I hold out my hand, “C’mon. Trust me. Susto won’t bite you.”
He won’t come any closer. He just looks at me. Simona encourages him, and Norbert too, until finally the kid takes a step forward but then stops again. He’s afraid.
“I promise, darling, he won’t do you any harm.”
Flyn keeps looking at me with distrust, until Susto suddenly jumps into the snow and flops down with his legs in the air. Simona rubs his belly.
“Look, Flyn. Susto just wants you to tickle him. C’mon ...”
I do as Simona does, and the dog sticks his tongue out one side of his mouth as a sign of his happiness.
Suddenly, the boy comes closer, crouches down, and, with more fear than anything else, touches the dog with his finger. I’m sure it’s the first time he’s touched an animal in many years. When he sees Susto is still not moving, Flyn seems to feel encouraged, and he touches him again.
“What do you think?”
“Soft and wet,” the little boy murmurs, already touching the dog with the palm of his hand.
Half an hour later, Susto and Flyn are friends, and when we slide down on the sled, Susto runs beside us while we shout and laugh.
We’re all soaking wet and covered in snow. It’s fun. We’re having a good time, until we hear a car pulling up. Eric. Simona and I look at each other. On seeing it’s his uncle, Flyn is frozen in place again. That surprises me. He doesn’t run up to him. When the car gets closer, I can tell Eric’s watching us, and, from the look on his face, it seems like he’s in a bad mood. But, hey, that’s normal.
Unable to hold back, I murmur to Simona, “Uh-oh, he got us!”