A year. Almost to the day. She can still feel the cold, wet kiss of snowflakes on her nose, the deep, bone-aching chill settling in her stomach, the hard silence of Central Park reverberating in her chest, overwhelming emptiness pulling her under, drowning in the inky depths of her own sorrow.
Maybe if she had been expecting it, had even the slightest inkling... She was no stranger to pain, to disappointment and longing. The secret was not to hope, to force yourself to ignore the very possibility of happiness. Maybe if she had been expecting the look of pure, unadulterated joy that flashed across his face, the way her heart fluttered at the thought of a little blonde-haired boy with an impish grin, whose twinkling blue eyes would never look at another woman the way they looked at her. Who would be hers to keep, always and forever. A little piece of him. Maybe if she had expected it, she would have had time to brace herself before the bottom dropped out and she was falling, falling into nothingness like icy snow on a dark December night.
She could still see that little blonde-haired boy with the twinkling blue eyes. He was playing in the snow, dancing, mouth wide open and face upturned, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue, tendrils of smoke curling as his warm breath mixed with the frigid air. They fluttered playfully on the breeze, teasing him, always a little beyond his reach. Just when he thought he'd finally captured one, it melted away, disappearing without a trace, as if it had never been. He called to her from the clearing.
"Mommy... Come play with me..."
A pudgy hand outstretched, beckoning. From a child she never wanted, a future she never knew was hers to lose. Hot, searing pain, and a dull, throbbing ache that echoes upon itself in the cavernous expanse of nothing. He melts into the blackness as she reaches out, trying to catch him, until all that remains are delicate tendrils of smoke and the twinkling lights of a cold December night in New York City. If she squints a little, she can still see them dancing in his eyes.
A year, almost to the day, and the snow softly falls on a dark December night. A tender kiss on her nose, and she leans back, letting his warmth envelope her, pulling her in as the flakes land gently on her upturned face, melting away like curling tendrils of smoke. The gentle silence of a city at peace, joy blossoming in the pit of her stomach as waves of contentment wash over her in a dawn of realization. Those twinkling blue eyes will never look at another woman the way they look at her. He is hers to keep. Always and forever.
His timing really is impeccable.