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WINTER SHADOWS
by
Mary Soon Lee Anna's breath condensed in front of her, pale clouds of air dissolving in the cold twilight. The city stretched around her, barely familiar, dark slots of alleyways gaping between blocks of boarded up houses. There used to be a twenty-four hour restaurant at the corner, students and truck drivers clustered in the smoky interior. Now the building was an empty shell, even the graffiti faded to illegibility. Anna's hands dug into her pockets as she walked past. Jim was right; she shouldn't have come back here. In the aftershock of hearing that Mallory had died, she'd thought it might help. But the changes in the city, the grime coating the walls, used needles in the gutter, shredded her memories to pieces. In the shadows to her left, something shifted. Anna spun round, saw an emaciated cat clawing through a pile of frost-whitened garbage. She stood there for a moment, her pulse drumming in her ears. What had she expected? That everything would be the same? That Mallory would saunter round the corner, cocooned in his ridiculous eighteen foot long yellow scarf? Well, that was twenty years ago. Mallory was dead, and she was the fool. But still she continued down the street, past the old warehouse, now choked with rust. According to the obituaries, Mallory had been brilliantly incisive, his academic reputation marred only by his unnecessary callousness to less gifted colleagues. The Globe had included a discreet black and white photo of a middle-aged man, with gray streaks in his hair and the permanent crease of frown lines. Something like guilt twisted Anna's stomach. The man in the photo was a stranger with Mallory's face, the bitterness in his eyes as raw as it was unfamiliar. The two of them had dated right through college, and he'd never once looked like that. Not even the day she told him she was seeing Jim. Mallory had laughed, and said--what was it now--that Jim was nice enough for a rich boy, but he'd still be waiting when she grew bored. And Anna had grown bored, bored of the country club circuit, the petty bitchiness of the other wives, the masquerade of Paris fashions. Bored of Jim. Anna cut that line of thought short: Jim was a good husband--tolerant, sensible, dependable. She paused. Without planning to, she had reached the footpath overlooking the gorge. Beyond the railings, a sharp mess of rock fell down to the black mirror of the river. She used to come here every night with Mallory when they were first dating. She ran one glove along the railing, remembering the cold press of the metal against her back as Mallory embraced her. The grasp of his hands crushed her, leaving bruised imprints of his long fingers on her skin. He looked at her as though she were the only object in his universe, the only one he wanted. And the sweetness of that look, the gentle kiss of his mouth, fused into the roughness of his grip. Blood burned in her cheeks. Breathing hard, Anna unbuttoned the top of her coat, and glanced around. Further up the path, silhouetted against the half-moon, a man was walking toward her, the ends of his scarf trailing on the ground. Mallory. The shape of the man's head, the easy rhythm of his paces, were exactly like Mallory's, calling back details she had lost. Anna couldn't move, couldn't think. She strained to see, but the man's features were shadowed. He stopped just outside the spill of the lamplight. "Anna." His voice shivered through her, unchanged by the years. Fine hairs rose on the back of her neck. She didn't need to see his face anymore, that was Mallory. "How--why--are you here?" "I like the view." He shook his head, his tone sharpening. "Why do you think? Because of you, because you tied me to this place." "I didn't do anything--" "You killed me." The words sliced through her, vicious and false, and yet they stirred a residue of guilt. She pushed that aside. "Don't be ridiculous. You were in a car crash; I came as soon as I heard." He stepped toward her, one hand stretched out, milk pale in the moonlight. "Look at me." Hollowed out, a wraith of a man, the lamplight shone through the outline of his smooth boyish face. There was no mark of wrinkles, no sign of gray in his hair. "You killed me, Anna. Years ago, when you went away." His voice was soft, haunting through her veins. She stared at the lamplight caught in his empty eyes, and for a moment she almost believed him. She shook herself. "No. That's ridiculous. You stayed on at the university, got your fellowship. You didn't even write to me." He laughed, the sound edging into pain. "There was no one left to write, no one that mattered. The night you left I found myself here, as though I were waking from a dream. And every night since then, the same." She wanted to tell him that was impossible, but there he stood before her, a shadow figure. "Sorry---" that was so inadequate. "I'm sorry." "Anna, I'm trapped here." There was a roughness in his throat that hurt her to listen to. He gestured flamboyantly at the steep drop of the gorge. "Sometimes I jump, and then it ends, but the next night I wake again. Help me. Please." His hands reached for her, slimy damp as they brushed against her, his fingertips merging seamlessly into her skin. She pulled back, rubbing away the lingering slickness. "What do you want?" "Hold me. I need to hold you one last time." She wanted to say no, she wanted to run away. But the loneliness in his eyes shook her. She owed him at least this much. Swallowing hard, she made herself step toward him. His arms enfolded her, clammy dampness settling round her. He crushed her to him, his touch solidifying, colder than ice, piercing. Hurt, that hurt, but she brought her hands up, ran them over the ice of his cheekbones. Behind her fingers, through the shadow of his head, she saw a thin cloud drift across the bottom of the moon. "I love you." For one moment his lips closed over hers, sweet and urgent as flesh, and then they faded. His body collapsed around her, disintegrating into mist. One finger brushed her, less substantial than a whisper. "Mallory, wait, I love you---" but he was gone. All about her the night stretched in vast and empty silence. Nothing moved, even the tears frozen on her cheeks. She had made her choices years ago. Slowly, very slowly, Anna walked down the path, back toward Jim. THE END
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