Snow Angel
What a perfect day, she thought as her footsteps crunched on the snow-caked grass. It just couldn’t have been any more romantic. She watched her breath in the air punctuate her movement and clenched her icy hands in the pockets of her jacket. Oh, it felt exquisite to know nothing could hurt anymore. No more surprise’s, no more disappointment, no more pain. She smiled at the thought and opened her mouth to let shapes of snow land on her teeth and tongue. It felt like Christmas had before it became just another day to dread, another day to struggle through. Back when she and Rachel had woken in the early hours tiptoeing down the stairs to see what was under the tree; back when her father would take them tobogganing and there was nothing to worry about and the pressure hadn’t come on like a thousand ovens. Back when the simplest thing would have made him happy, just the simplest thing. She wished her father could see her now. Oh, she knew word for word what he’d say. The same he always had when she hadn’t met his sky high requirements, ‘‘Amanda, we had such high hopes for you.’’ She heard the disappointment in his voice even now; saw his shaking head and rimmed glasses at the head of the dinner table; at her sister’s graduation; at her own wedding; at the clinic yesterday. Had they all thought she hadn’t had high hopes for herself? Had they really thought that? Not that it mattered now. Nothing did.
The wind whistled in the background and she laughed out loud; a sound that shocked her. Wasn’t it funny how things like that happened? Here she was, about to take her own life and even nature was calling for her to stop and see sense. She stood still covering her mouth as she laughed and laughed while the wind cried out. How wonderful to imagine her mother and father and all the others who had put such strain on her calling out at the last moment and how reckless to be ignoring their pleas. She turned and looked at the trail of footprints she had left. Thank God he wasn’t here now with his pedantic eye for detail. Not a straight line at all! She laughed again, this time falling back in the snow looking up at a blue sky that felt as familiar as happiness. How relaxing to be lying here without a care in the world, to feel so removed from everything and everyone. Maybe this is what it’s like to be on the moon, she thought, as she put her arms out and waved them through the snow feeling the chill cover her hands like a pair of cold glass gloves. She closed her eyes and let the snow land softly and slowly on her face. Maybe if she lay here long enough she would get so cold she would die anyway. She smiled at the thought, licking the snow that had collected on her lips.
It could have been minutes or it could have been hours later when she opened her eyes again. She saw a man peering down at her with an expression as blank as the snow. How long had he been there? And what right did he have to distract her?
‘Sorry Ma’am,’ he said, his words melting snow in the air. Sorry for what? ‘I saw you here and you looked like you were having so much fun I wondered if I could join you.’
What a stupid ridiculous man! Fun? Fun? This is exactly what is wrong with people, she thought. They see only what they want to see. They have no idea what goes on outside of their own silly little heads. Still it was her last day, so why not humour him? She patted the ground beside her and told him to lie down. He was a funny looking man with angry red skin and nostrils you could hide apples in. He lay back slowly and carefully and this annoyed her tremendously. Why take all the care in the world when you will end up wet and dirty anyway? But then why spend years trying to make everyone else happy when you end up dead anyway?
What was she supposed to say to this strange man? He wasn’t saying anything at all; just lying beside her like a big fat slug; his breathing getting heavier and heavier. An hour passed.
‘I’m John,’ he said, his words shattering the silence. She didn’t care who he was, not a bit. But she spoke anyway.
‘I’m Marilyn Monroe,’ she told him. She had always wanted to say that, always, but never had the nerve before. He didn’t say a word after that. She smiled. They lay there, still and silent in the snow for what felt like forever. She might have been asleep or she might just have been thinking, it was hard to tell anymore, but she felt his hand wrap around hers. Very strange, she thought, for someone to hold the hand of someone they don’t know. But she didn’t move it straight away. It felt almost ceremonial.
After a while she took back her hand and put it in her pocket as she stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ the man asked without moving.
‘I’m going,’ she said completely at peace, ‘to
die.’
