It was the middle of January and it was cold. The days were slowly getting longer, but it was still dark by 6 pm. Milly lived about ten blocks from the Walmart where she worked as a greeter. Her entire income was spent on food and shelter for herself and the nine cats she had collected over the years, so she couldn’t afford a car. This meant that Milly had to walk anywhere that she needed to go. Usually that wasn’t a problem – except in the middle of January when it was cold.
As Milly approached her fiftieth birthday, the chill seemed to have developed the ability to wedge fissures in her joints. Her accustomed walk to work became increasingly longer and she needed more time with her hot water bottle to recover.
Milly had just finished a double shift. She felt tired as she navigated the crowded aisles between the staff room and the front doors. A small boy wearing dirty jeans and a ripped t-shirt ran into her side
and almost knocked her from her feet. The boy’s mother shot Milly a glare as she walked past as if to say “Why didn’t you get out of his way?” Milly finally made it to the door and was nearly swept from her feet again when she stepped outside and was assaulted by the frigid wind. The cold instantly wormed its way up her back from under her coat and down her neck through the loose knit of her scarf. Hairs all over her body stood to attention in a vain attempt to trap warm air next to her skin. Milly’s aching joints audibly groaned as she tucked her mittened hands into her coat pockets and turned towards home.
After the first block Milly started noticing that something was wrong. She had walked to work in all kinds of weather – snow storms, fog, forty below wind-chill factor, you name it – and knew what to
expect. But tonight was different. The digital billboard outside of Burger King had said that it was five degrees outside with a negative ten wind-chill. Cold, but nothing she hadn’t survived before. Tonight,
however, she was having trouble breathing and her footing was completely obscured by ankle-high, windblown eddies of snow. She had stumbled several times and had to stop every few yards to catch her breath. Usually, Milly could keep herself moving enough to counteract most of the cold, but tonight it seemed to be remarkably tenacious. Fingers of cold caressed her skin before plunging through to her muscles and bones. Three layers of insulation did not seem to deter these attentions. Rhythmic spasms traveled all along her body and Milly felt a painful ache throughout.
The street was completely exposed and Milly was buffeted by every errant gust. As a native of northern Minnesota, she had a crippling fear of depending on others for anything as well as a modest dollop of social anxiety. So, despite her increasing distress, it didn’t occur to Milly to simply duck into a business and ask for help. Instead, she simply pulled her arms out of her sleeves and wrapped them around herself as she trudged on.
At the halfway point, Milly had to turn off of the main road to a side street. This street had both fewer streetlights and hardly any passing cars. There was also no foot traffic besides Milly herself. By
this time, Milly had become insensible to everything but putting one foot in front of another. The moon was obscured with clouds and the houses shed only feeble light that didn’t survive to reach the sidewalk. The cold had encased Milly thoroughly and she moved with the jerky, painful motions of a Parkinson’s patient. While she was concentrating on forward momentum, she paid very little attention to her actual direction, trusting routine to guide her home.
Suddenly, Milly pitched forward into a snow bank. For some reason Milly was reminded of the day she had gotten frost bite when she was nine. She had been out playing with her older sister, Edie, down by the waterfront. After a while some of Edie’s friends had passed by and Edie had run after them. This was no cause for concern because in 1969 it was still safe for a nine year old to walk alone in the early afternoon.
A slim, fallen branch proved an engaging toy which she used to draw dirty pictures in the unbroken snow. Milly became so engrossed with her fun that she did not notice how much time had passed until it became dark. At this point she was worried, but only that her mother would be angry. The moon had been full and brilliant that night, so finding her way home hadn’t seemed risky.
Continued in 2/24/10 editon
Be the first to comment on this article!