The sharp cold wind slicing like a knife was what brought Ryan back to consciousness. He didnât open his eyes straight away, not because his tears had frozen his eyelashes into unbreakable ice zippers, but rather because consciousness takes its time to come back and remind the mind and body of what happened before. So the return was slow, and the manâs baffled brain couldnât tell what was reality and what was a dream. Or nightmare⊠all it could see was a miscellany of shades, deformed shapes grotesquely dancing, imperceptible sounds and⊠pain. Too much pain. The only thing he was sure was real.
Ryan slowly groped the snow around him and mumbled, trying to break free from the anaesthetic state. What had happened? Where was he? Was he dead or still alive?
Still alive⊠that catapulted life back to his body and made him finally wide-open his eyes. There was pain when his lids broke apart but a deep breath, as if he had emerged from water and ravenously devoured life back into his body, brought the memories back.
He raised his back and head with a howl of pain and despair and stared at the luminous white landscape ahead of him. There had been an accident. The plane had crashed. The screams, panic and agony flooded his memory now, unceremoniously. His body ached and his head spun. Still he made a titanic effort to get up. Could he have been the only survivor? Provided that, of course, he was indeed alive.
No other sound but the howling wind reached his ears. But he had to get up.
âHeeeeeeeelp,â he shouted from the depths of his lungs as his slim body finally emerged from the deathly snow.
No answer. Not the slightest moan.
Ryan forced his right leg forward. Then the left. Then the right again, before his knees collapsed and his face plunged onto the ice sheet again. His mind begged him not to give up but his body wouldnât obey. He clenched his teeth and cried, his tears freezing on his cheeks and beard.
It was not supposed to end like this. It couldnât end like this.
âRebecca,â he said, cleaning the snow from his bluish lips.
It couldnât just end there before he apologised to the woman of his life.
There she was, her smile and immaculate white wedding dress shining like the brightest sunny day. It was Ryanâs happiest day, the day he married his university sweetheart, the day he truly believed nothing could stain the bliss. Joy and abundance indeed blessed the couple for two honeymoon years. Misfortune was at bay. Ryan would go home to kisses and hugs every evening, the smell of a carefully prepared meal invading his nose. His promotion to department manager made Rebecca shriek with excitement and he took her for a weekend by the sea to celebrate. Everything was falling into place, it was perfect. Perfect jobs, perfect house, perfect family⊠perhaps too perfect to be true? He never voiced it but for some reason, when Rebecca announced she was pregnant, he secretly started fearing the old saying: good or bad, nothing lasts forever. Or was Ryan afraid of his own happiness?
The survivor groped and dug the snow hoping to find signs of humanity. But the frost was merciless and soon he realised he just had no strength to carry on. He turned around and laid on the snow grasping for air. The piercing pain in his ears made him sick but he was too weak to even vomit. All he could do was pant and moan.
He stared at the darkening sky, the only other colour besides the deadly white. There it was, the first star. Well, not a star, it was Venus, the first night light in the sky, but Ryan had always enjoyed to call it a star. In fact, he and Rebecca decided that, should the baby be a daughter, she would be called Venus. What had his grandpa once told him?
âRyan, when lost, look at the stars. They will comfort you.â
That was what he did when he took Rebecca to hospital and was later told that she had suffered a miscarriage. He just went home in silence and stared at the stars from the window. Venus. Like the star that was not a star, their first born would never be. What an aching and detestable irony. His smile would never be a happy one again. Nor Rebeccaâs. All that followed was distance and cold. Cold as icy as that forsaken place where Ryan was now fighting for his life, a year after the devastating event.
He looked at the zenith again. Venusâ companions shyly joining her. As the sky kept darkening, the starsâ confidence grew. But not Ryanâs confidence. If anything, he was agonising, now certain that death was just a matter of time.
But RebeccaâŠ
âYou are not the only one who lost a child,â the cruel words hammered his mind. He regretted them before even finishing the sentence, but the damage had been done. How could he have been so evil to the woman he loved and, for a couple of months, carried his baby in her womb?
Rebecca couldnât respond. The cruelty shocked her beyond the imaginable, never had she believed the man she loved was capable of such brutal words. Was she that selfish? Did she really think her misery was more valid than her husbandâs? Silence and tears followed. Ryan swallowed hard and tried to hug her but she turned her back and walked away.
âBecky, Iâm so sorryâŠâ
The useless words he said merged with the agonising apology on the unforgiving snow.
âBecky, Iâm so sorry⊠I am so sorry. Please forgive me, please.â
But Rebecca was not there. He had chased her away. Nobody was there, just that ghoulish wind and blinding white. Perhaps he deserved it. When he booked the flight he told her he needed some time on his own to clear his mind. Rebecca just shrugged her shoulders. He could do as he wanted. She didnât care anymore.
Ryanâs tears froze at the corner of his eyes but he could still see the sky, now fully dark except for the tiny spots of light called stars.
âRyan, when lost, look at the stars. They will comfort you,â he heard his grandfather again. âThatâs what I did when your grandma passed away.â
Suddenly he was a little boy sitting on his grandpaâs lap, both watching the stars with innocent curiosity.
âTheyâre the dust of those gone before us, Ryan.â
And six-year old Ryan would wonder how people could possibly become dust. Stardust.
âAre heaven and the sky the same thing, grandpa?â he asked candidly, making his grandfather laugh.
âOf course, Ryan, of course.â
He was in this slumber when he realised the wind had given place to silence and there was no other light except for that from the celestial dots. His body was ice-cold but for some reason it was comfortable. Perhaps death brought peace after the despair and agony and pain. He looked at Venus, the star that was not a star, and his lips stretched into a small smile. He moved his eyes around and sensed movement. Whispers too. Several voices whispering.
Hands carefully lifted his body. Big hands. Small hands. A particularly tiny one closed around his gloved thumb. And as Ryan closed his eyes he couldnât tell if he had been found and rescued or if the stars had descended from their crepuscular realm to take him.
