The Winter of Life

It was winter, cold and the New Year had just arrived. Still on holidays the streets of the suburbs were empty, cars sat along the curbs covered in a foot of snow that had fallen the night before. Hugging his arms to his chest for warmth Marty trudged through the snow. His black leather shoes were no match for the cold and his feet were numb but he didn’t notice, his mind was elsewhere. He was lost, his glasses wouldn’t stop fogging up and the sun was beginning to set. His thick brown jacket was the only thing between him and the winter air. He shivered violently, slipping and sliding along the alleyway. He couldn’t remember leaving his house; he had no idea where he was. He recognized none of the houses that surrounded him, nor did he recognize any of the street names. He had reached the end of the alleyway behind a run down apartment building. He headed up the sloping alleyways to the road, not sure if he should turn left or right. Stepping on an ice patch his feet slipped out from beneath him and he landed hard in the snow. Gasping in pain he rolled onto his back, clutching his left wrist. He lay there in pain, unsure of what to do when a red vehicle pulled around the corner into the alleyway. It slid to a stop beside him. He didn’t recognize woman who came rushing out to crouch beside him.
“Are you ok?” She asked, encouraging him to remove his hand from his wrist so she could take a look. He winced and pulled his hand away.
“I’m fine. I just need find my house.” He responded as she lifted him to his feet. She paused a moment, something flashing across her face but she continued in the same tone as before.
“Where do you live?”
Marty wasn’t sure he should answer but he did anyways, “I live in black diamond.” He replied. “My dad has a farm out there.”
“And how did you end up in the city?” She asked.
“I don’t know.” He said, tears threatening to fall from his bright blue eyes.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. Why don’t you come with me in my car. We can turn the heat on and get you warmed up and I can take you home.”
Marty nodded and she opened the door for him and helped him lower his thin frame inside.

Her name was Mary, the same as Marty’s sister. She didn’t take him to his house though. She took him to her house, got him into dry clothes and cooked him dinner. She was nice but Marty didn’t care. He wasn’t hungry and he wanted to go home. They sat in silence for a while as he picked at his food.
“You need to eat.” She said, digging into her mashed potatoes.
“I’m not hungry.” He replied stubbornly. He was feeling more and more agitated as time went by. It was night out now but he didn’t care, “I want to go home.” He said, throwing his fork down onto the table.
“I told you, eat your food now and I’ll take you home first thing tomorrow. It’s too dangerous out to drive there right now. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”
“No!” Marty was no longer feeling safe. It had been a mistake to listen to this woman. He stood up and grabbed his coat off the coat rack and threw it on. Instead of stopping him Mary got out of her chair and headed for the kitchen. Marty headed for the door but when he twisted and pulled on the door it wouldn’t open. He panicked and began to tug as hard as he could, when that didn’t work he began to slam his bandaged hand against the door.
“Let me go! Let me go!” He began to yell and chant and bang. Mary stood behind him holding a tub of ice cream and a spoon.
“Marty, enough. Calm down please.” He continued banging on the door.
“I want to go home! Take me home now.” The situation was escalating. Marty no longer cared that the woman was even there. He just wanted home. Marty’s strength was failing him, his day of wandering in the cold had completely exhausted him and now his struggle with the door had cost him the rest of his energy. He slumped forward slightly.
“Please Marty. I have ice cream. It’s chocolate.”
He paused, memories flooding him. For a long moment they stood there, Marty slumped against the doorframe sobbing and Mary holding the cold tub of ice cream, her eyes pleading desperately. Finally Marty turned around.
“Chocolates my favourite,” He stated, taking a carefully step forward, “My father gives me ice cream every time I get scared.” He followed Mary into the kitchen shyly and she pulled a bowl out of the cupboard and began to scoop the last of the ice cream into it. “My father always says ‘life can’t ever get so bad it can’t be fixed with a little chocolate’.”

Marty was all tucked in and feeling better. Mary promised to drive him home first thing in the morning and he believed her. Shifting into a comfortable position Mary stood in the doorway.
“Good night Martin. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“My name’s Marty.” He replied, yawning. “Martin is my father’s name.” He spoke softly and, completely exhausted, he fell asleep.

An unexplainable change came over Marty during the course of the night. His brain in R.E.M and dreaming of summer he began to age. His straight black hair shortened in length, his bones grew and his muscles and flesh stretched with them. The baby fat from his thirteen-year-old face disappeared instead stretched taught into the form of a handsome farmer’s son seventeen years of age. He arose that morning and dressed for school. All his apprehension and fear from the night before had disappeared from his mind. Below him on the main floor the doorbell rang.

“Good morning.” He said merrily to his sister in the kitchen where she was talking to the man who had just stepped in the door. Marty headed straight for the coat rack to grab his thick brown jacket, sliding his glasses back up his nose as he did so.
“Good morning. Where are you off to?” She asked politely. The man, tall and good looking, bald and wearing jeans and a black sweater stood silently observing.
“I promised mom I would return the Weaver’s bowl on my way to school. Are you coming Mary?” He asked, casting a curious glance at the silent man.
“Oh. I did that already.” She responded, also casting a glance at the silent man, “I ran over there this morning while you were sleeping. This is Dr. Weissman. He came by take a look at your wrist.” Marty looked warily at the silent man who smiled genuinely in return.
“Heya Marty. How are you?”
“Good.” Marty replied, setting his jacket back on the coat rack.
“Look, Mary. Why don’t you go out for a bit while I take a look at his arm.”
“Are you sure?” She was hesitant and Marty hoped she would refuse.
“Yeah. I’ll check out his arm and then we can watch some T.V or something.”
She looked at Marty before slowly nodding her head and grabbing her coat and purse. Another minute and she was out the door and backing out of the driveway.

Mary returned a couple hours later, overburdened with groceries. When she entered the door she found Dr.Weissman in the kitchen, washing dishes and she smiled thankfully at him. Dumping the groceries on the counter she began to put them away.
“How is he?” She asked. Dr. Weissman began wiping his hands on the towel.
“He’s lucid and his wrist isn’t broken, just sprained but I think you should bring him in sometime this week so we can re-evaluate his condition.”
She nodded just as Martin entered from the living room.
“Mary?” He said, a smile lighting up his face. He was wearing the same clothes as this morning but the tensor bandage she had put on his wrist had been removed and was replaced with a brace. His face was now lined with wrinkles and he stood taller that Mary. His bright blue eyes were beaming.
“Grandpa Martin, it’s so good to see you.” She said, running forward to embrace him. Behind them Dr.Weissman threw on his coat and shoes and quietly left out the back door.
“Guess what I bought?” Mary said, ending the embrace and opening up one of the bags.
“Not ice cream.” He responded playfully.
“Double chocolate fudge.” She said smiling back at him and revealing the brand new tub of ice cream.
“Well I’ll get the spoons then.”
Mary laughed out of joy and sadness. Appreciating having her grandfather there with her, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.