Elizabeth Grace
Maria hears the train’s whistle and knows it means her father will be home soon. She yanks her heavy jacket from the hook and shoves her arms in as she goes outside. She pulls her hat over her ears and closes the door quietly so Mama won’t hear and make her come back in.
She misses her father and can’t wait for him to scoop her up and spin her around, like he does every evening after work. She runs to the end of the long driveway to meet him and steps up onto the frozen mound left by the city’s plow to get a better look down the street.
The cold air stings her eyes, so she closes them. She thinks it’s strange that she can smell her father’s cologne, warm and spicy in the crisp January night. He can’t be home yet, she thinks, because the whistle has just blown and she always has time to sing at least three songs to herself before she spots him walking along the edge of the road, his briefcase swinging in perfect pace with his steps.
Maria feels suddenly odd, her hands and feet heavy and numb with cold. She pulls the lapels of her coat and crosses them over her neck, but the wool is scratchy so she folds them back. A frosty rush of air against her skin makes her draw in a sharp breath.
She tries to open her eyes, but can’t. Panic rises in her chest and hot tears well under her eyelids. She wills them to melt her frozen lashes, but they stay locked inside, she’s certain, by a thick ridge of stubborn ice that’s formed an impenetrable seam.
Sirens break through the stillness and Maria fights harder to see. Bitter air stings her lungs with each breath and she wishes she’d waited inside as her mother had instructed. Her coat suddenly feels too small so she tries to unfasten the buttons, but her ungloved fingers are stiff and unwilling. She tugs frantically at the fabric, her lungs unable to expand under its unyielding constraint.
The smell of her father’s cologne grows stronger and she feels the warmth of his hands against her face. He brushes the ice from her eyes and she opens them easily. He smiles down at her and then picks her up in a smooth motion, twirling once before carrying her up the driveway. The house is bathed in a soft amber glow, its windows calling a promise of warmth and comfort. Maria is anxious to go inside, sensing that a great deal of time has passed since she left. Her father whispers against her ear, the heat from his breath moist in the wool of her hat. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m taking you home.”
The tension releases from Maria’s body and her breathing slows to a comfortable rhythm. She feels safe again and the numbness is replaced by a gentle heat, rising from her feet up throughout her body. She wraps her arms around her father’s neck and buries her face into the soft cashmere of his coat, his familiar scent making her suddenly sleepy.
Maria lingers for a moment in the magical place between wakefulness and sleep, but before she can drift off, a light from the newly opened doorway jolts her alert. It’s too bright, she thinks, and she pushes against her father to try to get down.
“It’s alright, darlin’ girl,” he says. “I’ll keep you safe and sound.”
“I don’t want to,” Maria says, twisting her body to get away. “I don’t want to go!”
Maria’s father sets her down and leans to kiss her forehead. “Good girl,” he says, his eyes brimming with tears. “You scoot along now and I’ll come back when you’re ready.”
Maria runs back down the driveway, away from her father and away from her too-bright house. She stops and turns to look back for just a moment and then disappears into the darkness of the night.
She runs toward the sound of the sirens. Runs until the lights, flashing red, hover above her. She looks up at them, streaks of light across the dark sky, and draws in a long, deep breath.
“That’s it,” she hears a man say. “‘Atta girl.”
A firefighter, his brow glistening despite the frigid temperature, kneels next to Maria. He smiles. “We lost you there for a minute, ma’am, but you’re gonna be just fine. Your husband is right over there. Worried sick, but he’ll feel a whole lot better now. We’ll have you at the hospital in no time at all, so you just lie back and relax.”
Maria holds tightly to her husband’s hand as the gurney is lifted into the ambulance. As the doors close, a warm, spicy scent drifts in from outside, and Maria closes her eyes and smiles.