White wisps flew in front of Tom's windshield, clinging and melting against the glass. He parked on the frozen lawn in front of the Shark River Country Club, ready to teach his bi-weekly fencing class. He had convinced the club to give him a studio where he could hold fencing classes at affordable rates for kids.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he checked the screen. Nathan Stone, it read. Tom turned the phone on silent and shoved it in his pocket. They hadn't been talking since he got back from Hungary. Seeing 'Nathan' pop up on his phone screen filled Tom with a fiery rage.

He squinted through the frosty gale, snow crunching under his gait as he crossed. His lips went numb as snowflakes clung to his beanie and stubble.

The building loomed before him, an icy fortress painted on a grey sky. It had been his only refuge since he had returned from Hungary to an empty house and a note in blue pen that said: You deserve better. He might have hoped the note came from Lacey, but it was very much so in Nathan's chicken scratch.

And so, without any explanation, Lacey had gone. Gone were the pleasures of vegan stir-fry, home improvements and pretty gardens. Now the snow blanketed Lacey's garden and there were no more American beauties to remind him of her hair.

Upon discovering this cold, uncaring note, he also found something shimmering beneath the couch. He examined it closely and identified it as the silver corner of a condom wrapper. During those two weeks he was in Hungary, Nathan's relationship with Alex had fallen apart and Lacey had disappeared. It made sense. He'd seen the way they looked at each other. He didn't have the nerve to bring it up, but he was sure enough just seeing the way Nathan suddenly hesitated to make eye contact when Tom asked about Lacey.

The more Tom thought about that wrapper, the more detail his mind painted into the story. A dark suspicion festered on and on, oozing venomous hate.

Tom entered the lobby of the clubhouse, his footsteps echoing and the wind rattling the windows. The lights were out, but the snow outside reflected a pearlescent glow that lit his way. The warm lights of the dance studio glistened amidst the gray, a golden paradise.

He saw his usual students--a mess of children, a senior citizen and a couple teenage girls who sometimes attended--and his teaching assistant Alexandria. For whatever reason, she had dropped out of school and moved out of her parents' home. Tom could relate, having dropped out of college. At least Alex took care to quit school before racking up years of student loan debt.

Tom couldn't afford to provide weapons to his students, and most of the class was spent practicing calisthenics and footwork, but Tom made it his goal to give them the right kind of talents to excel.

While most had very little of their own gear, Alex had everything from the jackets to the gloves to the slanted soles in her shoes. She often gave people tips on where to order special items and suggested that once they had enough gear, they could practice a more advanced study with her.

As Tom was setting up the orange cones around the studio, Alex cleared her throat to alert him to her presence. She had her hair double braided against her head, fastened with a black bow.

"Late again," she said. "These kids are paying for your time."

"I charge half as much as anyone in town," he said.

"Yes, and you've been teaching footwork for a month."

"Nobody ever regretted practicing too much footwork."

Alex kicked an orange cone on its side. The students whispered amongst themselves.

This was not the same Alexandria who Tom remembered from before he left for Hungary. His whole world had turned upside down. Lacey was gone. Nathan was a traitor. And Alex was... strangely sexy. Tom stood tall to stare her down. Alex got right in his face, trying to be equally imposing with her eyes.

"Let's have a bout," she said. "If I win, you have to come in an hour early for the next three weeks." Tom looked at this angry little girl and laughed.

"Doesn't that mean you have to come in early to make sure?"

"You can give me an extra hour of lessons during that time."

"Alright. And if I win?"

"Some new gear?"

"No, princess. I want something money can't buy."

"I'm not going to kiss you."

"Don't flatter yourself," he said, quickly trying to rethink what he would ask. "If I win, you have to fence with your left hand for the next three weeks." He unzipped his bag of gear and drew his sabre. He performed several flourishes with his weapon, showing off his supple wrist.

Alex borrowed another student's sabre, laughing at him. "I could fence you wearing a hazmat suit and still win."

"Easy now. There's nothing worse than arrogance."

"Unless you have the skill to back it up," she said. Her spirited salute divided the air with a hum.

Each donned a mask and took position en guarde. Tom waited for her to move first, but she waited as well, which he mistook for hesitation. He came at her and she slipped his attack, agile as a cat.

"Fencing is a dance," Tom lectured, laughing off her excellent evasion. "There are three-dimensional points travelling between opponents and endless possibilities at any given moment. What appears to be an opportunity, can easily be a trap."

Every pirouette by Alex had perfect form. Tom watched her core twist with raw strength and impeccable discipline. She landed a touch on his pectoral muscle and Tom coughed in amazement.

"Yeah, Alex!" a student cheered.

The two divided and began again. Alex tried for advantage by chasing him down, but his subtle check move distracted her. By shifting his center of gravity and interrupting the tempo, he threw her off and regained the upper hand. Touche.

She advanced on him with loud stamping of her feet. She had remarkable skill. Her reflexes distinguished her as a fencer. The mask had changed her. Tom slashed at her shoulder and she parried. He shouted as he advanced on her, his blade ringing against hers like rain. He slashed again and again while Alex played more conservatively with a clear method of reaction. He refused to let himself tire and in each round he forced the win. The lessons in Hungary had paid off.

Alex threw off her mask, pink-faced and dripping with sweat. She saluted with a violent slash through the air. Tom removed his mask and they shook hands.

"I hate saber," she said with disdain.

"Yeah, well I hate getting poked in the foot."

The class took on a new energy. Everyone worked harder than usual to impress Tom and they did their calisthenics and footwork proudly. When he dismissed the class, he asked Alex to wait up. He called her over to talk in the corner as the students poured out. A large window offered a glorious view of the snow that flurried outside.

"We can forget the stupid bet," he told her once everyone was gone.

"Why? If I had won, I would still have made you come in an hour early."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have minded." They looked out at the plain of snow and the growing blizzard.

"The snow is so strange, isn't it?" she said with a sigh. "I hope it doesn't ruin the party."

"What party?"

"It's at my friend Laura's house. You can come if you want."

"Sure." Tom watched the snow. Alex touched her forehead and winced. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've lost a lot of weight."

"It's stress."

"Over what? You're out of school, living on your own. What are you doing for money, anyway?"

Alex leaned against the windowsill and removed her gloves. She had pretty hands with shimmering pink nails. "I've been living off my savings, money my grandmother gave me for school before she died."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"And you and Nathan are really done? Like, for good?" Tom pried.

"Yeah." Alex touched her throat and cleared it. She looked mesmerized by the chaotic dance of snow. "He isn't right for me. Not anymore. The civilian, maybe, but the Marine, never."

"Everyone has baggage." Tom started stacking chairs and recycling abandoned water bottles. Alex stayed at the window a little longer, her eyes lost in that white void.

"What's your baggage, Tom?"

"Me? Take your pick. My father thinks I'm an idiot, my mother barely remembers I exist, and then there's Lacey." Lacey. Just the sound of her name on his lips shot a pang through his heart. He was in danger of showing his emotions, and so he followed up her question. "What about your baggage, princess?"

"Similar to yours."

"Maybe we're meant for each other," Tom said, his tone facetious. Old 'what-if' questions bubbled up in his mind, but he shook them off with a little laugh. Alex laughed too, politely.

"What do you do when you stop believing in soul mates?" asked Alex.

"I never believed in soul mates," Tom said.

"No? I've always thought Nathan was my soulmate. Ever since I was a little girl. I guess I'm just a hopeless romantic."

"You don't want to be hopeless." Tom shrugged dismissively. "This whole idea that there is only one person out there for you is too sad. People change. Or they drift apart. Or sometimes they die. People who stay together a long time are together because choose to be. Maybe there's chemistry. Maybe they're mutually afraid of being alone. But it's a choice you have to keep making every single day right up to the end."

"Wow," Alex said. "Quite the romantic yourself, aren't you, Tom?"

Tom blushed. He never blushed. "I have my moments," he stammered.

He was completely taken aback by this strange sensation of rosy red cheeks. He slung his duffel over his shoulder and headed out the door, hitting the lights on his way out. He made himself as nonchalant as an unattached bachelor should be, not even giving her a proper goodbye, but as he sauntered down the halls, he could hear Alex giggling in the studio.

Tom came out into the cold and found Nathan waiting in the snow. The marine ducked his head and started off in the other direction. Tom called after him, "Hey!"

"Hey," Nathan said, turning slowly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is Alex still in there?"

"Yeah," said Tom, "but I don't think she wants to see you."

Nathan dug his boot into the snow. "She won't return my calls. Seems to be a trend in this town."

"What does that mean?"

"Come on, Tom. Don't make me say it."

"I've been busy."

"We're all fucking busy. I've been tracking the animal who watched Hannah die. Your girlfriend, Tom!"

"I'm not asking you to figure that out anymore. What happened to Hannah was a senseless tragedy. She was just partying hard and ODed."

"And now Alex is partying with the same people."

"She can take care of herself! I'm sure of that. And she isn't your girlfriend anymore. So don't show up at my fencing class like some psycho stalker!" He started across the snowy tundra to his car.

Nathan chased after him. "It's easy to just walk away, isn't it? Just close your eyes to the ugly truths in the world, Tom. Someone else will clean up this town. Someone else will fight our wars."

"Okay. I'm just going to say it. You fucked my girlfriend, Nathan! So get the hell away from me."

Nathan's face went still. He was looking past Tom. Tom turned and saw Alex standing at the entrance all bundled up in green wool.

"Alex," Nathan started. She tucked her chin and bolted past both of them. She didn't look back. Nathan shot a hateful glare at Tom before going after her, calling her name. Tom just stood there watching as Nathan tried to get her attention, chasing her car and then buckling in pain as she drove away. Tom's gut reeled in discomfort as if little pins were puncturing his organs. He had to get out of there. Thank God for Halloween. 

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Music: Marilyn Manson "This is Halloween"