I sit by the kitchen window, the cold seeping through the old panes, and write what has happened, because the mind needs a place to hold it together.
Its me, Michael, he whispered, pulling up a chair beside the rickety bedside. Its too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, Mum. He rose again without a word, the door closing behind him.
Grandma Lily, with the last of her strength, hoisted a bucket of icy water from the outside tap. Her legs trembled as she shuffled along the frozen footpath back to the cottage. The frost bit at her cheeks, and her fingers clung to the slick, peeling handle. At the threshold she paused, gasping for breath, set the bucket on a step and reached for the second when her foot slipped on the ice.
Oh God, help me, she whispered before she hit the ground.
Her shoulder slammed against the step, a dull throb blossomed at the back of her head. For a few seconds she lay there, unable to move or even sigh. She tried to rise, but her legs ignored her commands; everything below her waist seemed to have vanished.
Stifling a scream of terror and pain, she began to crawl toward the door, gripping whatever she could: a broken stool, a snapped broom, the hem of her own skirt. Her back twisted, sweat beaded on her forehead, the world spun and swayed.
Come on, Lily just a little more, she muttered to herself, attempting to pull herself onto the old settee in the hallway. On the windowsill lay the family phone. With trembling fingers she dialed Peter, her only son.
Peter love, somethings terribly wrong please come she breathed, then the darkness took her.
By evening Paul arrived. The front door banged, the wind burst into the cottage. He stood on the doorstep, hat in hand, hair dishevelled, and saw his mother halfcollapsed on the settee.
Mum whats happened to you? he knelt, clasping her hand. Good Lord, shes frozen solid.
Without hesitation he called his wife:
Olivia, come straight away shes really ill I think shes not moving at all.
Grandma Lily heard everything, though she could neither smile nor shift. A flicker of hope sparked in her chest: if he was scared, it meant he still cared. Perhaps this was the moment the family would finally rally.
She tried to wiggle her legs in vain. Only her fingers twitched. Then tears rolled down, not from pain but because, perhaps, not everything was lost.
Olivia appeared two days later, irritated, dragging Annie their teenage daughter by the arm as if shed been pulled from something urgent.
Well, look whats happened, old woman, she muttered, glancing at Lily. Now just lie there like a lump of straw.
Annie clung to her mother, eyes darting anxiously, trying to smile while her face refused.
Olivia slipped silently into the house. Paul led her to the kitchen; they spoke in hushed tones, the air thick with tension. Though Lily could no longer make out words, she felt the bitterness in their voices.
Minutes later their son returned, lifted her gently into his arms without a word.
Where are you taking me? Lily whispered.
Paul gave no answer, his jaw set. She hugged his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of oil, tobacco, something homelike.
To the hospital? she asked again.
He stayed silent, his steps quickening. Instead of a hospital, he carried her to the outbuilding where, years ago, potatoes, sleds and old junk were stored. The room was cold, the floor of cracked planks, damp seeping through the windows, the smell of neglect thick.
He laid her carefully on an ancient mattress, covered with a faded quilt.
Stay here, he said dryly, avoiding her eyes. Its too late to change anything now. Youre nearly eighty, Mum. He turned and left without a word.
The shock didnt strike all at once; it crept in slowly, irrevocably. Lily lay staring at the ceiling, the cold gnawing her bones. She could not understand why he acted so, what she had done to deserve it.
Images from her past flooded her mind: hauling Paul on her back as a child, scrubbing school floors, buying him a winter coat on credit, paying for his wedding when his inlaws refused not a proper match.
Ive always been on his side she whispered, still refusing to believe what had happened.
Olivias face flashed cold, restrained, sharp as a blade. Never grateful, never appearing without a reminder. Shed only turned up once, for Annies birthday.
Now Lily lay in that chilly outbuilding, feeling like a discarded object. She didnt know whether shed see morning.
Each day made it clearer that something was terribly wrong. Paul visited less often, left a bowl of soup without looking, then hurried away. Olivia and Annie stopped appearing altogether.
Lily felt life slipping away. She stopped eating, sipping only water to stave off starvation. Sleep eluded her; a backache kept her awake. The worst was the crushing loneliness, an unbearable weight.
Why? she thought. Why me? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything for him
No answer came, only cold and emptiness.
One morning, as the sun barely pierced the grimy window, a soft knock sounded gentle, persistent, unlike Pauls.
Whos there? Lily whispered, her voice barely a breath.
The door creaked, and an elderly man entered, silverbearded, wrapped in an old coat. His face was familiar, though she needed a moment to place him.
Its me, Michael, he said, sitting down beside her.
Lily shivered at the name. Michael, the neighbour she once loved, the man shed driven away because he didnt fit her family.
Michael she exhaled.
He said nothing, just squeezed her hand. Then, softly:
What happened to you, Lily? Why are you here? Paul told me youre in a nursing home
She tried to speak, but tears stopped her. He understood without words, pulling her into an old embrace.
Dont be afraid. Ill get you out of here.
He lifted her, as light as a feather, and carried her into the sunshine. Paul was gone, off to the city. Olivia too. Only Annie glimpsed from the window before disappearing.
Michael took her to his own cottage, laid her in a warm bed, covered her with a fresh blanket, brewed tea with honey, fed her like a child.
Rest now. Ill call the doctor.
The doctor arrived swiftly, examined her, and shook his head.
A spinal fracture, old. With proper treatment she might walk again. Surgery and rehab will be needed.
Michael nodded.
Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell what I must, but well save you.
Lily looked at him, tears streaming.
Michael why? After everything
He smiled sadly.
Because I love you. Always have. Always will.
She wept joy, pain, the dawning belief that life wasnt over.
Michael cared for her as if she were his own, feeding, washing, reading aloud, recounting the days hed waited, hoping shed return.
I knew someday youd understand, he said. And Ill be right here.
A week later Paul returned, entered, saw his mother in a proper bedroom, no longer the outbuilding.
Mum how did you get up? he stammered.
She stared at him, cold.
I didnt. Michael brought me.
Paul lowered his eyes.
I I didnt expect this.
Leave, Paul. Dont come back.
He walked out without a glance. Olivia and Annie never returned.
Lily stayed with Michael, who became her pillar literally and figuratively. He helped her onto walking frames, then a cane.
See, Lily, Im walking, she laughed, taking her first steps.
He cried with happiness.
One morning, the sun gilding the windows, she awoke and said,
Michael, thank you. For everything.
He took her hand.
Its I who should thank you, for coming back.
They lived on, quietly, peacefully, in a love long awaited.
Later, Lily sat on a bench in the garden, the sun warming her knees, still sore but moving slowly. Michael carved a small wooden toy for Annie, who would sometimes dash in, hiding from her mum.
Do you think Paul will ever forgive? she asked.
Michael shook his head.
Dont think of him. Think of yourself. Youre alive thats what matters.
She nodded, feeling, for the first time in ages, truly alive.
On the table hung a photograph of a young Lily with Michael, captioned Finally together.
A month after that, Paul barged in unannounced while Lily sipped tea with Michael nearby.
Mum we need to talk, he began, ignoring Michael.
She remained silent.
Olivia says youve gone mad. That old man has twisted your mind.
Michael rose, but Lily stopped him with her hand.
Go, Paul. This isnt your place.
He shivered.
But Im your son!
I was. Not any more. Leave.
He slammed the door, and Lily didnt weep. She simply squeezed Michaels hand tighter.
Thank you for being here, she whispered.
He smiled.
And thank you.
Life moved on, without Paul, but with love.
A week later Annie ran in, hugged her grandmother.
Grandma, why is Dad so angry?
Lily stroked her head.
Hes forgotten what love feels like. You wont forget, will you?
Annie shook her head.
No. I love you.
And I you, Lily replied.
Michael watched them, smiling. Life, he thought, sometimes breaks us, but it also mends us as long as we dont give up.
That evening, Lily stood on the doorstep, watching the road as the sun set, painting the sky pink. Michael came up, put his arm around her shoulders.
What are you thinking about?
Just that everythings finally alright.
He kissed her temple.
Yes, Lily. Finally.
They went inside, together, forever.
