The Fall In The Winter

The following is a story that I submitted to the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange on CBC Radio back in April of 2006. It has yet to be chosen...my fingers are still crossed though!

Over the six years that my fiancé, Mike, and I have been together, tea has become an integral part of our lives. We’ve used it to warm ourselves up after an icy winter stroll, but we’ve also used it to cool ourselves down after a disagreement. We’ve used tea to comfort ourselves in times of sickness or stress. Since our work demands differing schedules, we sometimes arrive home to find the other sitting on the couch with his or her fingers wrapped around a mug. It has become common practice to pour ourselves a mug and join the other on the couch. This acts as our own unspoken symbol for “I’m here to take care of you”.

As that Friday in February progressed, I found myself looking forward to the coming evening. My father was in a play that was being performed at a local private Catholic school. The play had been running throughout the week and various schools were taking groups of students to the day time performances. My mother, a teacher, had decided to take her students to the Tuesday show. The walkway in front of the school is slightly inclined and was quite slippery on that particular day. My mother ended up slipping and falling on the ice. Luckily, nothing more than her pride was hurt. After the play, as my mom was exiting the school, she failed to notice the three inch drop from the doorway down on to the cement below. Again, she took a tumble in front of her students and, once again, it was only her pride that was hurt. When she phoned me that evening to recount the day’s events, I couldn’t help but take some good natured jabs at her expense. Had she been physically injured, I wouldn’t have been so candid with my jokes. My older brother was coming up from Saskatoon for the play and on our way to the performance, we all chuckled as we filled him in on Mom’s double spill.

Throughout the play, I found a few opportune times to crack a few jokes (quietly of course so as not to disturb those around us). When the play was over, my mom informed us that she was going to the washroom and would meet us at the car. As she began to walk away, I called after her in a joking manner, “Watch your step!” At this point, my brother and I were just starting down the flight of stairs that lead to the front door. As we began our descent, I arrogantly swaggered my head as I began to exclaim, “I’m on fire!” meaning I was on a roll with my jokes. Half way through my statement, I stumbled on the steps. This slight misstep changed my proclamation from “I’m on fire” to “I’m on…..shit!” As the words left my mouth and I tried to regain my footing, it was then that I raised my eyes and slowly took in the two figures standing at the bottom of the staircase. Had I known there were two nuns taking in this little incident, I probably would have changed that last word to something less offensive. My reaction to this realization was the same one that always happens when I get embarrassed....I began to giggle. My brother began to chuckle along with me. We were still snickering when we reached the front door and I was so mortified at what had just happened, the only thought in my mind was to get out of the school as quickly as possible. If this was the only thought in my mind, that meant there was no room for anything else. That meant there was no other worldly thought in my head. That meant that I was forgetting about the three inch drop down from the door.

We pushed open the front door and I was the first to take a step outside. In a fraction of a second, I realized there was no sidewalk immediately beneath my foot. In that same instant, I suddenly found my mind void of all intelligent thought. I was no longer concerned with the fact that I had just sworn in the presence of two nuns and that that one slip of the tongue may have just decided the direction my afterlife would take. In fact, the only thought in my mind was a single word – one small, colourful four letter word….the kind of word that requires movies to put an ‘R’ rating on them. As this word entered my mind, there was a sound leaving my throat – a sound that was a cross between a deep guttural moan and a school girl giggle. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh at my foolishness or began to cry in anticipation of the pain I was about to receive. I chose the former and tried to laugh but it didn’t sound quite right. The people who had exited the building before us turned around at this strange sound just in time to see the back of my head make contact with pavement. When their eyes took in the scene, they saw a woman lying on her back, her body contorted in an unusual angle. They saw the guy who was with her doing absolutely nothing to help her. In fact, not only was he not making any attempt to help her up, he was doubled over in laughter and pointing at her. As I picked myself up off the cement, people began to inquire if I was okay. My attempt to ensure them I was fine was contradicted by the tears streaming down my face. I’m positive I heard one woman in the crowd comment that I should “dump the insensitive fool”.

Later on that evening, as I was stretched on the couch beginning to retell the evening’s events to Mike, I noticed a slight pain beginning to crawl across my back. As the realization that the next few weeks were going to involve several trips to the chiropractor, the look on my face must have conveyed that sense of dread because Mike stood up and, without a word, went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

And so it "icily" goes...