Frosty Wind Made Moan

23

23

The tears didn't really start until they had flown high up into the air and then Toby felt as though they would never stop. His howls were caught by the winds that surrounded them, carrying them away from his Mum. Away from where she now lay in a puddle of blood. The old man held on to Toby's waist, but Toby didn't want the old man. He wanted his Mum.

Before he knew it, he began punching the old man, even as they flew away. Toby's fists battering against the old man's green dress. Hammering into the old man's body, but the old man did not let him go. Nor did he try to stop Toby's attack. He accepted the hits and continued to hold Toby tight until Toby became spent, his fingers gripping that green material as he poured out mournful tears.

Then the old man lifted Toby, holding him in his arms, cradling him to his chest. His long beard and moustache scratching against Toby's face. Those arms felt strong and warm, but they felt like poor substitutes to his Mum's arms. Or his Dad's. In their arms, Toby would have felt that everything would turn out alright. That this madness had never happened.

They landed and the old man folded his legs, keeping Toby tight to his chest until the sobs began to diminish and then Toby pushed against the old man's chest. Like a flower unfurling, the old man's arms released Toby and he stepped backwards, staring at the old man's wrinkled features that betrayed little emotion.

"You knew that was going to happen." Toby could hear anger in his voice. "You knew and you didn't tell me!"

"I did." Rising to his feet, the old man didn't look as tall as he once had. He no longer looked funny and magical. "I gave you the choice."

"Choice?" The veins in Toby's neck felt as though they were about to burst as he shouted at the old man. "What kind of a choice is that? You made me watch my Mum getting stabbed! You, you showed me 'true' cruelty, but this ... this is too cruel."

"It was a choice as all choices are." Putting away his holly and mistletoe wand, the old man waved a hand, bringing the magical chimney stack into view. "Big or small, all choices have consequences. Your choices. My choices. Your mother chose to work at that hospital. She chose care over her own safety."

Toby couldn't believe his ears. His hands balled into fists again, but the old man didn't move away and Toby knew it would make no difference if he hit him again. It didn't look as though it hurt the old man, but Toby's knuckles did hurt. He looked down at his hands. Hands little older than his own had held a knife that plunged into his Mum.

It all felt wrong. He knew that, right after stabbing his Mum, that boy would receive treatment for his own injuries. He didn't know if his Mum lived or had died, but if she did live, she would be still in the same place as that boy who had attacked her. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. He couldn't bear to live a life without his Mum.

"You're blaming her." He stepped away from the old man and the chimney stack, tears still falling against his cheeks. "You're saying she did this to herself because she cared. That's sick. You're sick! You're evil!"

"I'm saying your mother made her own choices. That is her right as a living being." The old man still hadn't moved. Still hadn't changed his expression. "Choices are the difference between living and existing. Without choice, beings are little more than mindless machines. And your mother stood by her choices."

The old man talked as though Toby's Mum were already dead. That, after that boy had stabbed her, she had died. And he wasn't with her. He didn't have the opportunity to tell her how much he loved her. Never had the chance to tell her that the toys and bikes or anything else didn't matter to him. Like his Grandma all over again. Only, this time, he doubted the old man would take him back in time to give him that chance.