Unforgettable

“‘Tis the season to be jolly…”

The carolers rang out their joyful refrain, fa, la, la, la, la-ing with enthusiasm, as Mary wandered slowly through the softly swirling snow-flakes that drifted into her thick, rich, hot chocolate. The mug was bright purple and contrasted oddly with the picture perfect Christmas card environment, so she wrapped her mitten covered fingers further around the cup to disguise the imperfection.

Three children were building snowman, scooping piles of fluffy snow that gathered beneath the overhanging eaves of the nearby house. They looked up at Mary as she passed them, their cherubic faces peeping out from behind woolen scarves and stripy beanies. She smiled at them and their lopsided snowman that sported two dark black eyes, but no carrot nose. The children had improvised with a pine cone instead. How unconventional yet resourceful.

Farther down the snow covered lane there was an ice rink where couples glided in a delicate promenade, swirling around the glassy, smooth surface with linked arms. Mary stopped to watch them, a pang of envy resting in her chest.

If only…

She paused, frowning, unable to remember what the rest of that statement needed. If only she could skate? If only she had someone to skate with? It was odd. Her mind was as thick as the hot chocolate, almost sludgy, the thoughts sliding together in a slow motion dance, where each step seemed to not quite fit with the one before.

“Mary?” The soft voice caught her attention. Turning, she saw a man, smothered in a warm woolen jacket, yellow beanie, and leather gloves reach out to her. “Would you care to skate?”

Between the raised fur-lined collar and beanie, it was difficult for Mary to make out the man’s features. He had white teeth that peaked through pale lips and dark stubble as he smiled. Without thinking, she placed her free hand in his.

“I don’t…” she began.

“..Have any skates, I know.” He finished her sentence for her, and she wasn’t sure that this was what she was going to say, but he seemed so confident. “They hire them, come.” He took the mug from her other hand, setting it on a conveniently positioned table and drew her towards a kiosk sporting white hire skates.

“Size 37 and 41, please,” the man ordered for her. How did he know her shoes size? She followed his lead and shucked off her boots to wrestle on the shiny white skates. Once the laces were secure, she tottered over to the edge of the rink.

“I don’t think…” she began to say, as she felt the man’s presence beside her.

“It will be fine, believe in yourself,” he advised her softly as he linked his arm beneath hers to lead her out onto the ice in one long, slow glide.

The gentle eddy of snow had stopped, leaving the air crisp and cold as it whipped past her ears, tugging at her flowing hair that escaped from her own beanie. Gliding effortlessly across the ice, she relished in the feeling of freedom and speed, the rest of the world blurring into unknown images. There was only now, this moment, and it was all she needed. She laughed with unrestrained joy.

From somewhere she could hear the faint sound of music and she strained to hear what carol was being played. As she skated nearer to the music she was surprised to hear, not Bing’s ‘Winter Wonderland’, or Mariah’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’, but Nat King Cole’s ‘Unforgettable’. The man spun her around so that she skated backward before him, and snaked his hand behind her waist to secure her. He hummed along with the lyrics while gazing into her eyes, and she squirmed. He seemed to know her, but she couldnt recal his face at all.

“I don’t…” she began.

“Like going backwards, I know. I’m sorry.”

He spun them again, with a flourish of footwork, and then he was skating in reverse. He gathered her close and leaned his head towards her, aiming for a kiss, and she panicked.

“No!” her voice rose above the sound of the music, echoing off the ice. “I don’t know you.”

The man jolted back in surprise, and her world spun uncontrollably as he let her go.

Faintly, she could hear him calling her name, but everything tumbled into a white fog that hid the world from view. She searched blindly for something to hold on to, to keep her grounded in what could only be a sudden blizzard.

The bright light stabbed her eyes, blinding her momentarily as she fell. The cold ice froze her cheek on contact, a painless numbness down her left side.

“Mum,” a voice interrupted her fall, forcing her eyes open. Gone was the snow and the skaters. Bright white walls entombed her while two concerned eyes peered at her from a worn-out face, all crunched with fatigue and weariness. Mary blinked, trying to force her vision into focus, but the edges kept blurring, so she closed her eyes again.

“You need to try. Please, just open your mouth.”

The despair and urgency in the tone wrenched at Mary’s heart and she wondered who the hard-hearted monster was that refused the entreaty.

“Mum, please eat, just one bite.” The voice urged again. Mary forced her lids open and observed a spoonful of mush scooped from a purple plastic cup waving near her face. Who was this man who invaded her space and shoved an unappealing mess at her nose?

She opened her mouth to berate him, and the mush quickly slipped between her lips.

She spat it out.

“Go away,” she tried to tell him, but the words tangled in her mouth, her teeth and tongue and lips refusing to form the necessary motions as she engaged sound in her throat. She heard herself growl and felt deep satisfaction when the man placed the purple cup on the tray and left her alone.

Another man took his place and held her palm in his. She could feel the trembling, whether it was from his hand or hers, she could not ascertain.

“Mary, sweetheart. Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his craggy face pressed close to hers, so she could hear him clearly. She didn’t recognise the thinning hair, or the deep grooves around the mouth and eyes.

“I don’t know you…” she tried to say, panicking at his nearness, while unable to escape his embrace, but all that left her lips was noise.

“Shush… I know, don’t worry,” he leaned back a fraction and tenderly stroked her face with age-spotted hands, his knotted fingers tangling in her hair and pulling at her scalp. She turned her head away and noticed the greeting cards resting upon the side table, along with a tiny plastic tree decorated with red ribbons.

“Please Mary, try, for me. I can’t continue without you.”

Mary admired the cards. There was a snowman, decked with top hat and scarf, a snowy winter scene with ice skaters on a rink, a selection of carolers and angels, and a jaunty little bobtail horse pulling a sled.

“I need you Mary. I can’t live without you.” It was said in a harsh, broken whisper, but she refused to look at the man. Instead, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she could hear the jingle of a harness covered in bells. A jaunty chestnut horse pranced toward her, its hoofs lifting high to clear the snow, while a sled glided behind. The driver hauled on the reins, and the horse slowed to a halt.

“Mary,” the driver said as he leapt from the sleigh, holding his hand out toward her, eyes twinkling with delight, beneath a bright yellow beanie. “I have a ‘One horse open sleigh’ for you. Would you care to go for a ride?”

“I would…”

“Good hop in,” the man said as he grasped her fingers, pulling her gently into the sleigh, covering her knees with a blanket.

Mary tested the fabric, rubbing her fingers over the harsh cotton. It didn’t feel luxurious, or cosy like wool, or fur, but, grateful for the warmth, she pulled it higher. The edge had letters printed on it. The individual letters were familiar, but the word they spelled was not—H.O.S.P.I.C.E—She gave up trying to work it out.

“Where do you want to go?” the man said.

“I don’t…” she began in confusion.

“Well, let’s just explore then.”

He clicked his tongue and flicked the reins as the jaunty little horse took off, trotting through the snow-covered trees, tossing its mane, startling the birds resting in the branches. They picked up speed and fairly flew over the snow; the wind whipping through her hair. Her beanie caught the wind and blew off. She gasped, turning to see the bright red woolen hat lying on the fresh white snow.

“Well, it looks like the children will have a hat for their snowman today,” the driver said.

She looked at him and laughed, the sound ringing through the air as her untamed hair fluttered in the breeze.

She had never felt so free. When she turned to the driver, she saw that good humor and laughter wreathed what little of his expression she could see beneath the bright yellow beanie. Although she didn’t recognise him, he seemed happy.

“I don’t know you,” she said, but the fear of the unknown didn’t overwhelm her this time.

He turned his laughing face to her. “I’m John.”

***

The nurse, when she did her rounds at midnight, called for assistance. Neither Mary, who had suffered for years with dementia, nor her husband John, who was her primary carer, were responsive. The coroner would later determine that they passed within minutes of one another, her hand clasped in his.