The darkness settled into the blades of grass and barely touched the thin layer of frozen water floating on the surface of the still lake. Naked tree branches shivered with the chill of loneliness as he stared at them, reliving in the moments he kept locked away in the deepest corners of his memory. He remembered her smile; lightly pink lips, never colored, a cute gap between her two front teeth, an extra canine to the left that never loosened up as a child. He thought of her eyes; they weren’t anything special, after all, he had seen those same hazel eyes on Jeremy’s face, and Mrs. McEntire’s, and Mr. McEntire’s, but hers somehow looked lighter framed by caramel-colored hair. He smiled at the hushed murmurs and giggles between them as they ran away from Jeremy after pulling a childish prank on him; he felt her insecure lips on his, holding hands behind the thick trunk of the tree they used as their hideaway. He thought of those days and looked back into the crystalline reflection of the lake, blurred by ice crystals and tears he refused to shed for a past that would never return.
There’s a reason why they don’t let us go there at this time, Kenny. Out of the many warning she gave him that night, it was the only angry whisper he remembered clearly. He felt her small hand grasping his weakly—even though she thought she had a tight grip—pulling him away from the door. He thought of the sensation of her red scarf lightly brushing against his cheek, making his adolescent beard itch.
Don’t worry, Becky! There’s nothing dangerous about it. Maybe if he would have listened to her, he would have spared himself the loathing and self-disgust he felt every night after the accident. Nineteen years later, he sat at the same place he did the 12th of February, 1985, remembering his first experience with ice. He felt the bile rising, leaving the bitter taste of hatred and regret in his mouth. He stopped pushing away the memories he had wrestled with for more than a decade, he stopped kicking blindly at the darkness and settled into the quiet confines of an empty corner in his burning heart.
Her hair smelled so nice that night. She smelled like a bouquet, he decided, even though he had no recollection of smelling one since he never bought her flowers. Driving a broken down twice-hand-me-down Chevy Impala with rusted rims and leaking gas tank, it wasn’t easy to set aside cash for those kinds of luxurious gifts. There I go again, he reprimanded himself. It was like a natural defense mechanism: whenever he tried to remember, his mind jumped around, begging him to forget. But he thought hard about it, focusing on her footsteps behind him as they sneaked out of the house through the kitchen door. He wished his parents had heard her footsteps, too, and his. He wished they would have stopped them, punished them for breaking the rules and forced them to stay at home for the rest of their lives. Perhaps things might have been different. Perhaps he would have grown to be a happy man, with her by his side in moments like these. Never before had he felt her absence so pronounced, the ache in his chest so deep, so fierce, cutting into his soul so harshly.
He walked before her, brushing aside leaves and branches in the darkness. He treaded the path first, assuring that there were no dead animals on the ground for her to step on and change her mind; he didn’t want her to run away without him. He eased his way between bushes dusted with snowflakes that had yet to disappear, helping her claw her way through the brush. They reached the other side, but something was different about their secret spot. Drunken laughter burst from the core of invisible junkies hidden between the trees bordering the lake. Startled, she gripped onto the back of his leather coat, pressing her body to his as if to disappear into one form. If we stay quiet, maybe they won’t notice that we’re here, she whispered.
It worked; for a little while, at least. The noise they made as they tried to turn around and run attracted a lanky crack head with crazy eyes holding a butterfly knife, demanding that they hand over whatever they had. He shook his head dumbly and shrugged his shoulders, scared to death that he’d notice Rebecca cowering behind him. He thought the man was going to back away, but he simply stepped back to lunge forward and push him onto the cool rails of the bench. Rebecca fell first, tripping on the outstretched leg of a hidden junkie and hitting her head against the frozen corner of the bench.
Rebecca! With a silent thud, she slid onto the ground and began to murmur incoherencies he could barely hear. He swung a punch at the lanky man the second time he tried to shove him against the tree and ran toward his best friend, his high school sweetheart, his future. He grabbed her limp form off the dirty ground, holding her by the waist and dragging her toward the other side of the lake where there seemed to be no one blocking the path out this nightmare.
A screeching laughter filled his ears and he could no longer keep track of Rebecca’s breathing in his arms. The laughter came from the side, but it suddenly felt like it was surrounding him. Panicking, he lifted Rebecca into his arms and cradled her, charging forward into the forest. He was met with a fist to the nose, his entire body feeling the force of the hit. He fell backward with Rebecca still in his arms, his body crashing into the ground twice as. She rolled out of his grasp while he tried to stand up again, but couldn’t reach her as two people started dragging them away. He tried to kick at the stranger, but their grip on his legs was too strong for him to do any damage. He looked around wildly for Rebecca but he was getting too dizzy to get a good sense of direction. Swallowing down blood unconsciously and gagging, repulsed, every couple of minutes, he felt the chill of ice on his back. He gathered that they must have dragged him to the lake because the solid ground under him felt different, it wasn’t dirt anymore.
The laughter continued, but he wasn’t sure it was even human anymore. It came from all angles, it struck his face from all directions, I hit his gut again and again. Whenever he tried to open his eyes, the pain in his left socket made it impossible, so he closed them again. He heard screaming in the distance. There was a Stop! somewhere. When he tried to piece the yells together he gathered someone was hollering Get off! Don’t! Stop it! but he couldn’t be too sure. The screams died out with every crack of his broken ribs, every kick reminding him that Rebecca was nowhere to be found. Finally, the beating stopped for a minute. Terrified it would only get worse, he laid still and waited until there was complete silence. Fighting the desire to lay still and fall into an endless abyss of sleep, he opened both eyes ignoring the unbearable pain that ticked within each eye. He looked around but could not see much in the darkness besides his fuzzy reflection on the surface of the lake; he smelled something familiar, though.
The smell of flowers mixed with iron and dirt and sulfur filled his nostrils. The smell was barely noticeable as the blood dried inside his nose and burned with the chill of the wind. She was nearby. She must be nearby if he could smell her. Using all the strength that was left in his broken body, he lunged himself forward onto his stomach and hissed at the pain that spread throughout his body. He followed the scent of her hair, crawling toward the center of the lake. He didn’t understand why she would be sitting there, instead of running away and going home. He squinted and noticed there was a red scarf lying on the ground next to what looked like Rebecca’s body, but she was sleeping. He crawled faster and finally got to her, but noticed she wasn’t asleep. She looked at him and waited for him to save her. He smiled back at her but collapsed onto his back, reaching blindly for her hand. You’re so cold, Becky. She must have been laying there for a while. Why didn’t you call me to warm you up? It stung that she hadn’t thought of him. He felt a sense of disappointment and held on to her tighter.
He looked to the sky, the world seeming to spin on its axis faster than it ever had before. Where did the greens and blues of the sky come from? He wondered. Where have all the bright stars gone tonight? It seemed that they were hiding from something. He laughed. They’re so beautiful sometimes. They kiss the moon when you’re not looking. You know that Becky? She didn’t. She would never know now, anyway. You’re so beautiful, Becky. Stars or no stars, I don’t care, Becky. I just want to be with you. She seemed to smile, or perhaps she didn’t, he couldn’t tell now that the sky was falling on him and the lights were stabbing his eyes shut.
So much for the northern lights, he laughed.
So much for the northern lights, he saw her laughing and gave in.
The blood slipped into the cracks of the ice, spilling into the lake with his tears. Unable to move, half-unconsciously staring at her stiff body next to his, he laid in silence contemplating her blurring form. Her coat was wet with melting ice, her scarf no longer covering her pallid neck. A puddle formed like a halo around her head, the beautiful caramel turning into tar. His breath caught in his throat, much like the first time he asked her to go to a drive-in with him, only this time he was begging her to go. She was looking at him, but she wasn’t saying anything. He cried harder when he tried to speak but words didn’t come out of his mouth. The poured out of his nose, but she couldn’t hear their gooey crimson because she had some of her own stuck between her ears.
He waited for someone to come, he hoped for someone to rescue her. But they didn’t. He woke up to the low beeps of a heart monitor, feeling a foreign intrusion on the back of his hand. His head felt heavy, his eyes refused to open as he stirred under foreign sheets and pillows after three days of fighting with himself. He lost the battle.
You’re alive! Thank God! That must be his mother, with a thankful sigh and a sob.
Son, do you know how lucky you are? That could have been his father, stern yet relieved.
Where is…
He’s breathing, his heart rate is normal; I’d say he got through this one fine. Ah, the doctor.
Rebecca?
Conversations ceased. The room became as quiet as Death himself would be if He would have gracefully taken both of their lives. He thought about that moment, replayed it again and again in his mind. What a favor that would have been. How much happier would he live if he didn’t live at all? He slowed his stream of consciousness down for a second and took the time to contemplate the lake. Frozen, tormenting, it preserved perfectly his regrets. The fever burning through reality and memories, he decided it was time to go home. He lit another cigarette and took a long drag, filling his lungs with the smoke and blowing it out in rings slowly. The bench creaked as he stood; his blanket fell discarded onto the dirt, the fabric soaking up the moistness on the leaves and grass. He threw the cigarette as far away as his bad arm permitted him to do so, and he cautiously stepped onto the ice. Just like old times. He hoped it would give out under his weight; he wouldn’t fight it if it chose to do so. No such luck. He walked carelessly to the middle of the frozen vastness and crouched down. The ice burned the naked sole of his feet, so he lay down and brought his knees toward his chest. All better. He looked to the sky once more and noticed the colors were shifting; it looked like they were dancing. His thoughts drifting away to more important matters, he felt his consciousness slowly slip away. How nice. The lights. How nice.
