I Couldn't Have Asked for More

“He’s never going to like you because you’re different,” Maria said with a low, smoldering voice. At least she didn’t call me “deformed” or a “freak” as so many others had over the years.

A gut wrenching pain jolted through me as she narrowed her eyes to stare at the right side of my body. My face felt hot, and I clutched the stair rail to stop from falling. A blur of bodies rushed past me as they bolted down the school steps on the brisk Friday afternoon.

Maria stared back into my eyes as if she was daring me to cry. How fast six years of friendship and trust were destroyed. I guess I didn’t react as she expected so her upper lip twitched as it always did when she was unsure of herself. I hate the twitch.

* * *

It’s late in the day on Sunday. There’s a slight orange glow as the sun hits the horizon. My legs feel heavier than they have ever felt and my skates are dull and clunky. It doesn’t feel like the pond that I know so well from being part of my family’s farm for generations.

I crunch my shoulders forward and wrap my arm across my chest, but the cold, hollow feeling still stings. I look down at the small circle I have etched out on the frozen pond. I never kept myself confined to such a small section since I started skating here when I was four. I tell myself I should skate with confidence, I’ve been doing this for what felt like forever. I shake my head, I can’t get Maria’s words out of my head. Maria is sitting on a bench on the other side of the pond talking with Julia, a friend of mine, or so I thought. My shoulders slump as I feel the penetrating stares from Maria.

Was Maria right? Did Tom only talk to me because he felt sorry for me? The new boy comes to school and gravitates to the girl who has only one arm.

Some boys from seventh grade are playing a game of ice hockey on the other side of the pond.

I can’t think of anything good to distract my mind and the pit in my stomach grows as I think of the paper about the Great Gatsby that is due tomorrow. I’m not even close to finishing it yet. I got too caught up in thoughts that Fitzgerald died the day I was born and then my mind went running with a thousand thoughts as it always does.

I pull my hat down over my ears as another chill shakes my body. I suppose Maria won because Tom isn’t going to see me this afternoon.

Then Maria’s mom’s car pulls up to the side of the road and my shoulders relax as I lift my head up higher to see. I sense that by the way Maria’s mom waves and smiles at me that she is oblivious to the animosity. Just before Maria gets into the car, she smirks and turns up her head. I stare at her with all the hatred I can muster. Julia is right behind her. I wave to Julia and she waves back tentatively and then follows Maria into the car like I used to. I take a deep breath wondering what lies Maria has been telling her.

As their car pulls away, Sam drives up onto the frozen field honking his horn incessantly. I smile broadly thinking about how Sam and I have been friends since we were seven. I still remember his toothless grin as he was the first kid to speak to me while some of the other kids whispered and stared. Now, he hollers his greetings to me with his deep, husky voice. I laugh as I yell my greeting back, mesmerized by his contagious smile.

His younger brother and his friends laugh as they clamour into the bed of the truck as Sam pulls forward and stops in quick succession, playing the game that never gets old. The boys finally catch up to the truck and tumble into the back. They call out my name and yell thank yous as they pull onto the road. I hear them laughing and hollering as the truck bounces up and down with Sam deliberating hitting every rut in the road.

It dawns on me how everyone loves hanging out with Sam; everyone except Maria.

I tilt my head back and as I breathe in the crisp air and the tension escapes from my neck. I never would have done what Maria did to me. I never tried to make someone feel small and worthless.

I open up my stride and skate from the confines of my small circle and swirl around the pond. I rip off my hat and stuff it in my pocket and feel the wind lifting my hair. I unbutton the top buttons of my coat and feel the soothing rush of cold air that emboldens me.

I get lost in time watching the full moon rising in the clear dark sky.

The churning of a familiar engine snaps me back to reality. I look around the pond and I’m the only person still on the ice. My heart skips a beat and I see Tom’s beat up truck pull into the field. He waves and walks to the bench. I glide around the pond slowly as I wait for him to put on his skates. He comes to a smooth stop a couple feet from me and my eyes gravitate to the little scar that runs at an angle from his lip. I let out a tiny sigh as I wonder why I find his scar so attractive. I glance up at his eyes, they’re young and dark.

A gust of wind hisses across the ice and a shiver runs through my legs. I see him scrunch up his shoulders towards his neck.

He smirks, “Do you want to see how fast we can go together to the other side?”

My face gets hot and I stand a little taller. I know I can cross the pond in eleven seconds. “Sure” I say as I give him a small smile.

His face brightens and his smirk turns into a full-blown smile. The edges of his eyes are smooth except for the creases from smiling.

Tom takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches for mine. We intertwine our fingers and I feel the warmth of his hand through my thin glove. My heart flutters and then calms as I slightly squeeze his hand and I know he is real. His hand feels so familiar and comfortable as if we have been holding hands for years.

I turn my head to look straight across the pond to our destination. I lead by taking off with my right foot. The sound of my blade scraping against the ice brings back a feeling of control and I imagine the scraps of ice flying off my blades. Even though he is almost a foot taller than me, he matches my stride by the third stroke of my skate and we are in perfect unison.

I feel that I’m going faster than I ever have before. The wind rushes through my hair and the fluttering of snow kisses my face. My heart is racing and my fingers and toes are tingling. I take a deep breath through my nose as we reach the edge of the lake. “Let’s keep going!” Turn with me at the edge!”

I feel like we’re flying right above the ice.

* * *

“Grandma, Grandma!”

“I- Wha- What?” My eyes open halfway.

The pond is gone and standing before me is my seven year old grandson. His smooth small hands are shaking at my forearm. My eyes dart around the blurry room and focus as I continue blinking.

“Grandma, here’s your tea”.

I wrap my fingers and palm around the cup for the warmth against my cold hands.

He doesn’t loosen his grip on the cup, “Grandma, your hand is shaking.”

Without waiting for me to respond, he sets the cup on the table. “Mom and I are going to skate. Do you wanna come with and watch?” He grabs his scarf from the hook next to the door.

I look down at my skinny, almost non-existent legs. “I do dear, but I’ll watch from up here. It’s a little too cold for me out there today”. I glance out the window and see the dimming light. “Isn’t it too dark to skate?”

“No, there's a full moon!”

I nod my head and smile. “Yes, a full moon. Those were wonderful nights.”

“What were?”

“Nothing, my love. Don’t be out too late, don’t forget you have school tomorrow”.

His face scrunches, “Grandma it’s Christmas vacation! I don’t want to think about school! Mom wanted me to check if you need anything.”

“Oh, if you could hand me the photo of papa and me.” I point towards the dresser. As my grandson grabs the photo I pull my afghan off the bed and onto my lap. “One more thing, can you open the window for me?”

He grunts as he struggles to open the window with its crackling paint and warped wood. Instantly, the cold wind rushes against my face and through my air.

“Yikes! Mom is down there.” He sticks his head out the window, “Mom I’m coming down!”

He runs across the room, “Bye Grandma!” I hear his feet galloping down the steps.

My fingers are stiff as I touch the metal rim of the side of the wheelchair and inch it closer to the window.

I see my grandson running toward the pond where my daughter is kneeling in front of my four year old granddaughter, lacing up her skates.

Then I hear the familiar sound of Tom’s truck trudging up the road. He had continued to buy old vehicles and fix them up the best he could. His memory has been fading recently along with his repairs so his truck is louder than ever. I stretch my body forward so I can peek out the corner of the window.

I shove my wheelchair against the wall as close as I can. I push my fist into the bottom of my chair to raise my body and in one quick motion I grasp onto the white paint chipped window sill. I take a deep rattling breath and pull my body forward. I ignore the sharp pain running down my back while I get a glimpse of Tom’s truck. He’s hunched over in the passenger seat, Maria must be driving. His head turns to look towards the pond, but it feels like he is looking for me.

My arm gives out and I collapse back into my chair and lean on my right side. I look down at the photo and bring two fingers up to my lips and then down to the glass picture frame and touch the handsome face staring back at me. I swear I can feel his presence. I whisper to him, “We had a great life together, Eddie.”

I look back outside and the pond looks so much smaller and the glow of the sunset looks paler.

I feel light hearing the shouts and laughter of my grandchildren.

I try to pull the afghan up to my neck, but it’s too heavy. I intertwine my fingers between the loops of the afghan and I feel the warmth of Eddie’s hand.

Fatigue washes over me. I collapse further into my chair. A peacefulness radiates over me as I feel the comfort of sleep descending.

I’m so very thankful for my life. I couldn’t have asked for more.