Short Stories

Heavy Ice

Hurt. Hurt is the feeling that I have been very well acquainted with as of late. As I stare down at the heavy ice covering the trees, I can think only about the heavy weight that is sitting upon my shoulders. I swallow hard and decide that I cannot think about this any longer. I shuffle my feet across the room to get a cup of coffee. I pour the black coffee into a smaller mug, and walk to sit on the chilled leather couch. Looking outside the window, the heavy ice sits still on the feeble limbs of the big oak tree. A small movement catches me at the corner of my eye. Snow.

"What are you looking at?" Harry, my husband asks from behind me. I hear him start to pour himself a coffee, shaking the sugar packet and then the clanking of his shoes coming up from behind me. He bends down and gives me a light kiss on the cheek. He breathes, "I am sorry about last night. It will never happen again." Harry takes a deep breath. I stare out the window blankly.

"It was nothing," I whisper, "it was an accident." I sip on my bitter, plain black coffee. My husband doesn't respond to me. I continue to look forward at the snowfall. This snow will turn to ice. Snow is always beautiful, at first. So quiet, so innocent and pure; yet, it would turn into cold, resentful, heavy pieces of ice that lay upon a fragile limb that was once strong as the oak tree it is attached to.

I stand to hear Harry opening our front door. The chilled air whoops in and I follow him out. I wave, as a good wife always does, and force a smile. He gets into the car and slowly drives away into the white abyss past our driveway. I let my cold thoughts overtake me as the cold has overtaken this house. I walk to the bathroom, flipping the light switch, I see myself in the mirror.

My black eye has gotten worse. This situation has gotten worse. How much longer can I take this? I hear a small crash and jog to the large window that exposes me to the yard and the big oak tree. The limb has broken due to the ice. I will not let my ice break me. So, it is official. I walk to my bedroom, pull out my biggest suitcase, and I start packing.