The Ice Rink

by Mary Brunini McArdle

I’m forty-nine years old and I’ve never had surgery. I have no significant health problems, nor have my daughters. I know I should consider myself lucky, but it’s hard for me to understand what others go through if they have to have an operation.

When my father needed serious back surgery, at great risk to both his mobility and his mortality, my mother fretted over every detail. I was far more conscious of the fear of losing him than of an empathy for the various stages of his upcoming ordeal.

A week before he went in the hospital, he adopted two young adult cats, one of each gender.

“Daddy, I can’t believe this. You’ve always refused to own a pet. I can repeat your exact words: ‘anything alive is trouble’.”

“Well, Jessie, I reconsidered. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk again... after... well, a new interest...” his voice trailed off.

“Anything he wants,” my mother interjected. “Are you and Kim staying for dinner?”

“Yes, but Kay has to work tonight.”

Kim was sixteen, Kay a year older. They looked like twins: the same brown eyes, the same dark, straight hair. Like their father, who hadn’t been seen or heard from for fifteen years. I was long over it. Surrounded by such a loving happy family, the past didn’t matter to me.

My father’s weathered face looked sallow, his features clouded with pain. “Your mother put my skates in the attic today. I couldn’t stand looking at them in the hall closet anymore.”

“Oh, Daddy.” I went over and hugged him. “You don’t know anything for sure yet.”

We were an ice-skating family, but my father attracted all the attention at the local ice rink. He was tall and thin and agile, a real natural. People would stop to watch him; often he drew applause. He wore the plainest of clothes, khaki slacks and beige V-necked sweaters, and still — well, he just sparkled.

The new cats cautiously entered the living room, a yellow tabby followed by its black, long-haired companion.

“They’re beautiful!” I exclaimed, bending down to stroke the tabby. “Is this the female?”

The other cat hissed with emphasis as he backed into a corner. “Better get him neutered right away,” I said.

“Already done,” Daddy replied.

“Doesn’t seem to have lowered his hormone level any,” I said dryly.

“I want you to name them for me, Jessie,” Daddy said.

“Why?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Okay, let me think a minute.” I let my mind drift, concentrating on the tabby. The pronounced “M” on her forehead inspired me. “’Marigold’!” I said. “Mother’s name is ‘Mary.’ How about ‘Marigold’?”

“Good job,” Daddy responded. He winced and put his hand to his back. “What about the black giant over there?”

...who was curled up in the corner, baring his teeth.

“Machiavelli sort of jumps out at me,” I said. “But...”

“I know.” Kim giggled. “’Monster’. ‘Mayhem’. Or ‘Maniac’.”

“Hush, Kim, you’ll give me a headache.”

“’Migraine’,” she quipped.

“This is my show,” I insisted.

The black cat in the corner emitted a deep rumble, his tail lashing.

“He’s waiting in ambush,” I said. “Like an American Revolutionary hiding behind a tree to get a redcoat with a... a... that’s it! ‘Musket’!”

“’Marigold’ and ‘Musket,’ Daddy smiled. “I knew I could count on you, Jessie.”

* * *

I worked at home for a computer company; I had more command of my time than any of us. I was available to sit with Mother before, during, and after the operation. She educated me on all the arduous procedures and their after-effects whenever the nurses asked us to “step out of the room.” I don’t think at forty-nine you’re quite at the age to appreciate detailed discussions relating to the ailments of the human body. Older people seem to thrive on them. “My friend Helene had to have a kidney removed,” Mama told me once over coffee. “Oh, she had such a hard time. Dialysis for weeks. It didn’t do any good. You remember, she had that severe stroke last year, too.” I didn’t even know “Helene.”

Daddy appeared unbelievably frail when the aides brought him back from the recovery room. The skater’s frame, once lean and graceful, looked wasted beneath the white sheets. All throughout his operation someone paged us with updates from surgery, but Mother took those calls herself. She seemed to find them familiar things, nodding at each one. I didn’t know anything had gone wrong until later.

When he didn’t wake up.

He lay there with the IV and the monitors, not moving a muscle. Mother and the doctor stood apart in the hall, talking in undertones. Once she took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. The doctor patted her on the shoulder and walked away.

“Mother? It’s been almost eighteen hours and Daddy’s still out. You haven’t had any sleep at all. Why don’t I get Kay to take you home?”

“No. I’m staying here. I can nap on that big leather chair.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Your father’s not... not doing well, not well at all. I don’t know if he’s going to pull through this.” She stared at the floor.

I took a deep breath, holding my back rigid. “Can we bring you anything from the house? We’ve been feeding the cats every day.”

“I wouldn’t mind one of the girls getting my comfortable shoes — the navy Keds. And maybe some mints.”

“Fine.” Forcing my own fear below the surface, I went to the nurses’ station for extra pillows and a blanket. I sent Kay to pick up the shoes and Kim downstairs for the mints. Then I told the girls to go on home. “I’d better stay. Mother won’t admit it right now, but she’s going to need a break sooner or later.”

“Oh, Mom,” Kay protested. “We don’t want to leave you. Right, Kim?”

“Baby, you have your job and I’m sure Kim has homework. Please?”

“Okay.” Kay hugged me. Kim followed her out, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. “How can I concentrate on homework at a time like this?” I heard her whisper.

I want to ask Mother about Daddy’s condition, I thought, but I’m afraid to push her. What’s gone wrong? Why isn’t Daddy awake?

It didn’t occur to me to ask the doctor myself. I was too ignorant of this domain of stethoscopes and white uniforms.

But later both the girls started asking me questions. “Why isn’t Granddaddy awake? Is he going to die? Grammy’s been crying.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Mother, won’t you go home for an hour or two? Take a bath, lie down for a while?”

Another full day and night had passed and her eyes were rimmed with red.

“Maybe I’d better, Jessie. But don’t leave him alone.”

“I won’t, of course, I won’t. I’ll be right here.”

Mother came back in less than two hours. “Sweet cats,” she commented briefly. “I’m beginning to get fond of them. They greet me at the front door.”

More time went by, hours, days. Nurses came in and out, constantly checking. Sometimes they frowned or shook their heads when they made notes on Daddy’s chart, but I couldn’t seem to open my mouth. Every nerve in my body jumped whenever I heard a beep from one of those monitors.

The hospital gave Mother a spare cot down the hall. Late that night, when she consented to rest, I sent the girls home again and tried to make myself comfortable in the big leather chair. I caught myself dozing off and on, but if a nurse came in, I would jerk awake.

There was the strangest glare coming from the window. A cold, white glare; it was making me squint. I got up to look out. “What...” I whispered. “What in the world?”

Kim waved at me as she sailed by in her red skating outfit. She was going so fast her features and frame were blurred. Solid ice was obviously beneath her feet, but I couldn’t see the boundaries of this... this ice rink? She whipped into my view again and yelled, “Come on, Mom! Join us.”

And there on her heels was Kay, in royal blue, dark hair flying.

Nobody skates that fast, I thought. Nobody.

Mother was there too, laughing and leaning into the curves. I saw two small shapes creep into the edge of my side vision, one dark, one light. One black as coal, one golden as the sun. Musket? Marigold? My mouth dropped open as tiny wings began forming on arched backs, wings of fur. Then the two cats lifted into the air and trailed in Mother’s wake, hovering just behind her shoulders.

“Hurry, Jessie,” she called. “Don’t miss out on all the fun!”

And then the sweetest sight of all, Daddy holding out his hand as he swooped by the window.

“Catch you on the next pass, Jessie.”

I stepped onto the window sill, grabbed his slim, strong hand when he came about again, and we were moving — so fast, so fast! Around and around, splinters of ice flying from the points of our toes. Blue sky arching away from us, sunlight reflecting off Marigold and Musket’s tiny wings, the tips of their fur like rainbows.

“Oh, Daddy, I love you!” Sun and ice spun around me; I found myself drifting, closing my eyes...

Alarms were going off, someone was saying, “He’s gone....”

“Wake up, Jessie, darling. He’s gone.”

I blinked, my hand still linked with Daddy’s. Mother was standing by the chair, shaking my arm.

“But... but we were all there, all of us. Even the two cats...”

“Jessie, you fell asleep. It’s all right; I’m not upset with you. We’ve all gotten so tired. What were you talking about, ‘there’?”

“At the ice rink. I mean, at an ice rink. And... and...” I broke off. “We were all skating,” I said lamely. With a couple of cats with wings accompanying us? I thought. Uh, huh.

“Jessie, you must have been dreaming.”

“I... I suppose so.” I looked over at the quiet shape next to me in the hospital bed. “Oh, Daddy. No.” Mother and I hugged each other; I sobbed while she comforted me, Kay and Kim waiting in the hall.

But we were there, I said to myself. I’ll never be convinced we weren’t, not for the rest of my life. I can see it still. I’m cold and tingling. I can feel his hand holding mine. We were all there together, at the ice rink. And every time I stroke Marigold and Musket, I’ll be feeling between their shoulder blades for the roots of little wings. They’re somewhere, underneath. I’m sure those two cats remember that ice rink too. They’ll tell me so, with their glowing apricot eyes. Cats know about these things.

Marigold and Musket — they’re part of our family too.