Ice cube

She could still hear them chanting, even almost twenty years after it had happened. ‘Ice cube, ice cube.’ It didn’t help that it had become her nickname for whenever the whole family reunited at the cabin. Which was where she was at that exact moment: staring out the its window, at the snow cumulated overnight.

It was a day between Christmas and New Year, when you can’t quite remember the day of the week. As for tradition, the whole family had spent Christmas’ Eve and day at the cabin, before going back to the city. ‘The city is the most magical place to be to welcome the new year,’ her grandmother used to say. She usually agreed, except this year felt different; this year she felt like starting the new year differently. She had promised her cousins she’d be with them to celebrate, even as she crossed her fingers behind her back. She could always blame it on the snow. The fluffy white snow, now ten inches high, that could and would easily turn into ice. Very slippery, very dangerous ice...

It was her third winter at the cabin; her brother’s second. At six year old, she felt like the cousin in the middle. Everyone else, except her brother, was older.

It had become tradition by then for all the children to play all day long on the frozen lake that was part of the estate. The adults would be coming and going, occasionally, wanting to keep an eye on them, but also wanting to spend the vacation time they had mostly with other adults. ‘Sally is a teenager, she can look out for all of them,’ their grandpa would say, referring to the oldest cousin.

That year, that particular year that she could never forget, her two year old brother was also under Sally’s responsibility.

“Okay, guys,” Sally was saying, “we must be more careful this year that John is with us.” She said this mostly looking at the twins, her younger brothers, who promptly replied.

“Yeah, right,” said one, while the other added, simultaneously: “Extra careful.” He dragged the ‘e’ in extra for emphasis. Even at ten year old, they were the rebellious of the family. Title they held proudly still in the present.

“I am serious,” rebated Sally.

“So are we!” The twins mocked her.

Robin couldn’t understand the dynamic, not yet. Whenever she, as the oldest, told something to John, he mostly listened. Well, he mostly just slept and ate, anyway.

“Does that count for the rest of us?” Mary, then twelve, asked.

“Of course it does,” replied her eight year old brother, folding his arms looking like an adult in miniature. He knew too well his sister was the twins’ secrete accomplice.

“So, are we all set?” Sally asked, hands on her hips. At sixteen, she took her role very seriously.

Everyone agreed, by either exclaiming ‘yes’ or reluctantly nodding their heads.

The first half of the day went by smoothly, maybe too smoothly. When they got inside for lunch, they were all excited. So excited that they decided to bring out the ice skates later in the day. Parents and grandparents had no objections: they had behaved so marvelously the entire morning.

And so it was, a couple of hours later, the kids went through the boxes containing the skates scattered in the closet, looking for the one labeled with their name. Once individuated, they brought it to an adult to be helped putting them on.

“Aren’t you looking for yours, Sally?” Robin asked as their grandmother tighten her skates.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” replied her cousin, “but I’ll still be there, anyway.”

Robin was reassured by that: Sally was her favorite cousin and she always tried to look cool in her eyes. She wanted to impress her that day, even on ice, she had her mind set on it.

Like the well trained pranksters they were, the twins behaved like perfect angels for the first forty minutes. As soon as Sally declared that she would go inside to see if John was awake from his nap, they jumped into action. They didn’t even wait for her to get out of sight to sneak out behind some trees.

Robin, being too engulfed in her own movements, hadn’t noticed it; not until her cousin approached her.

“They are up to something, you know?” he said.

“Who?” she asked, distractedly. She was trying really hard to do a pirouette.

“The twins,” he was annoyed, at this point, for not being given the full attention he wanted. “Who else?”

“Oh!” Robin exclaimed, still looking at her feet. “They are always joking.”

“No, look,” her cousin said, tugging at the sleeve of her coat.

She did look then, in the direction she was being pointed at: Mary giving the thumbs up to the trees, and the twins appearing from behind them. What she was too distracted to see was that their pockets were full. Full of pine cones, some of which were already at Mary’s feet. She was about to say something — ask what kind of game they were playing — when she was distracted again by the approaching voice of her older cousin.

“Look who is finally up!”

Then, everything happened at once: Robin turned around just as her cousin, holding John up in her arms, was inches away from the lake’s perimeter. In that same instant, a pine cone flew above her head and hit Sally right on the forehead. Not fast enough to do any real harm to her, but with enough strength to let her drop her two year old cousin. Robin’s instinct kicked in immediately: she launched herself toward her falling brother.

What happened next makes more sense in retrospective: one minute she was running to her brother, the next she felt the ice crack under her feet. She had probably hit some that was already thinning. All she knew in that moment, though, was that she was falling into the icy water. The last thing she saw before going momentarily under was her brother in his bright red coat sitting safely in the soft white snow.

It didn’t take long for her cousins to jump into action: within a couple of minutes they were helping her off the lake.

“Ice cube,” her brother exclaimed. Or better yet, he repeated a second time.

Once she was in the safety of the house, they recalled the scene for the adults, including what Robin herself had missed. Just as she was tumbling down the hole opening in the ice, John had exclaimed: “ice cube!”

It had probably been prompted by the fact that he was recently learning new words and Robin had spent a whole afternoon saying those two particular ones. She would take an ice cube and drop it in a glass of water for emphasis. He, of course, hadn’t been able to fully repeat the words until the day of the accident.

She could still vividly picture the scene now, looking out the window, as if it was happening in that moment in time. As if she had travelled back in time; or even more absurdly, their younger selves had travelled to the future. Of course none of those things had happened. She shook her head to bring herself to the present: the frozen lake was empty. She hadn’t stepped on it since that eventful day. And that’s when it downed on her; maybe that’s why this year felt different. Maybe it had finally come the moment for her to face her fears and conquer them.

Without a second though, she walked to the closet to grab her boots and coat. She slipped into both, without bothering to change from her pjs to regular clothes. It was now or never, and she had chosen now.

Out of the cabin, she slowly walked toward the frozen lake. Carefulness was still in order, even on the mostly soft snow on the pathway. She finally stepped, ever so cautiously, on the frozen surface. When nothing cracked or gave up under her foot, she took another step and smiled to herself.