One Last Time (MSF-Bear at the Door)

“Bob, grab my hand! Now goddamnit grab my hand!”

Bob looked up at Gail, hopelessness filling his icy blue eyes. He had become weak from holding onto the ice, grasping as firmly as he could to the side for his life.

Ice fishing was something Bob loved to do; Gail on the other hand could care less about this hobby of her husbands. 46 years together and she still refused to hold a rode and attempt to catch a fish. She hated everything about ice fishing, the bate, the waiting, the cold. She hated it but she loved Bob so much for the past seven years every Sunday during the winter months she went up north with him to go ice fishing. She usually just sat there in the freezing cold bundled up from head to toe waiting for the words, “Okay honey, we can go now.” Those words were music to her ears. This day however, this day she would not get to hear those words.

It was beginning to warm up while still being extremely cold, this early March but Bob still insisted he had to go ice fishing just one last time this year. Against her better judgment Gail agreed, “One more time, then were going somewhere warm.” He agreed and packed up the old Chevy with his rod, bate and folding chairs. Once on the middle of the lake nothing seemed wrong. Gail and Bob had been sitting there for over an hour, caught one fish and begun talking about the vacation to a warm island Gail had been planning during this long winter month ice fishing with Bob. In the middle of her description of the all-inclusive resort the first crack sounded.

“Bob honey, let’s go I think I heard a crack, the sun has been up for a couple hours now the ice could be too thin. We are the only ones out on this stupid lake right now, maybe we should call it a year and go in.”

“Oh Gail you worry too much. Just let me catch one more, it is the last time for a few months you know?”

“Yes I know,” she added a “thank goodness” under her breathe but made sure Bob could not hear that part.

Only moments later the cracking became obvious to both Bob and Gail. A look of worry flashed over both of their faces, they both lifted up off their chairs in an attempt to hurry to the shore. Bob was slightly overweight, and the thinning ice could not hold him. The ice broke open and Bob slide into the icy lake. As the water hit it was like thousands of needles pricking him, nearly numbing him instantly. He looked at his wife, panic all over her beautiful snow-white face. He tried to life himself out but it was no use. Bob was not as young as he used to be, just turned 64-years old last January and he knew he would not be able to get out.

“Bob, grab my hand! Now goddamnit grab my hand!”

Bob looked up at Gail, hopelessness filling his icy blue eyes. He had become weak from holding onto the ice, grasping as firmly as he could to the side. He knew what he needed to do. He did not want his wife, his love, and his life to fall in by standing to close to him reaching for him. If the ice shattered and she fell in they would both lose this battle. He looked at her and mouthed, “I love you” then let go.