Life's Challenges

LIFE'S CHALLENGES A Short Story Collection HER MOTHER'S FUR COAT Pulling the long-ago memory from the dark recesses of her brain, Martine remembered the spectre of her mother as she stood at the edge of the ditch, her fur coat dripping, and her hair thick with mud as it lay plastered against her cheeks. Her eyes, appearing like black caverns leading into her soul, sparkled brilliantly as the headlights of each passing car reflected their light. When last Martine had turned around, she had seen her mother walking the narrow pathway between the road and the ditch dressed in her finest; a fur coat inherited from a deceased aunt, brand new rhinestone earrings and her hair newly coiffed. And because it was a rainy evening, she wore her gumboots. Anyone living on a farm knows you don’t wear your best shoes when it’s pouring cats and dogs, no matter what special event it is you are planning to attend. As a young child of eight years old, to Martine this startling transformation in her mother was a shock, and one that she knew even at that tender age would stay in her memory forever, periodically bubbling up to the surface to haunt her. Before leaving home, she had admired her mother's efforts at elegance and in spite of the gumboots had thought she'd looked quite beautiful. After getting out of the bus, Martine had walked ahead of the two women. With her head tucked into the collar of her heavy winter coat, she had slogged along, leaning into the northerly blowing wind. Struggling against the cold blast of winter she thought of the singing and dancing they would be seeing, music she knew she would love, music she'd been singing in their large kitchen for the previous two weeks. Her only audience had been her father's canaries, budgies and finches. Each had chirped their approval at Martine's renditions and in their own unique way had caused pandemonium in the small dining area. Because her thoughts as she walked had been up on the stage with the musicians, she had failed to hear her mother's muffled calls for help. The frightened voice of her mother had been pulled into the soggy night air by the wind and rain where it was carried off to the mountains beyond. But fortunately her mother's best friend had heard her plaintive cry for assistance. “Sir,” she had called as she waved to a passing gentleman, “would you be kind enough to help my friend out of the ditch?” As Martine remembered her mother's ditch dunk, as she now thought of it, time had not dimmed the memory of that stranger’s expression as he looked first at her mother’s friend, then at Martine before his eyes finally and reluctantly looked down at the sodden spectacle in the water-filled ditch. “How did she there?” he asked while he attempted to put off the inevitable. He appeared old in the eyes of an eight year old child but when the memory was exposed to her adult self, Martine realized he had probably been in his mid thirties, about the age she now was herself. He had no doubt been off to see the same musical event they were planning to enjoy. With an expression of extreme sadness, he glanced down at his suit and shrugged before again looking at the sad spectacle of this strange woman helplessly ensconced in the muddy water. “Okay,” he finally answered as he saw that our faces were watching him, beseeching him to help. At that moment he was our guardian angel. The only one for miles around, it appeared. Martine, with an adult's perspective, thought that it was not the first question he should have asked. But to a young child, his question was reasonable and she had wanted to know also. She knew without a doubt that if she had ended up in the ditch wearing her very best clothes, she would’ve been in very big trouble and explanations would have been required to more than just this stranger. “Thank you, Sir,” Martine's mother's friend smiled. She looked ready to throw her arms around the kind man's neck in an effort to show her gratitude. He backed up to avoid the emotional onslaught, barely missing a slide down the bank into the water-filled ditch himself. Martine remembered her efforts to suppress the giggle that had nearly escaped her. But as an adult she could now laugh out loud as she recalled the scene and the stranger's fancy footwork as he sought to regain his balance. She had admired his quickness in pulling back from the edge and had wondered briefly if he might have been one of the dancers they were going to see that evening. Reluctantly he reached down to grab Martine's mother’s muddy outstretched hand. Most people probably don't know but a fur coat that has been submerged in a water-filled ditch is not the easiest thing to pull up a bank, especially when it has a woman in it who is wearing gumboots that are filled with water. With loud grunts on the part of the stranger, considerable groaning on the part of Martine's mother and a lot of huffing and puffing from her friend, the two of them managed to pull her to the top of the ditch. Swaying, her mother staggered slightly and grabbed again at the arm of the gentleman, attaching herself firmly to the sleeve of his suit. Steadying her, he quickly stepped back, out of range of that muddy, clutching hand. And with a nod of his head, he was gone. “Thank you Sir,” my mother called in a quavering voice to the man’s quickly retreating back. Martine remembered watching the back of the man as he anxiously brushed at his clothes. Walking quickly, he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the bedraggled woman he'd dredged from the ditch. Together, in a careful row as they hugged the roadway, they slogged to where the special event was going to be held and made a bee-line for the washroom. As Martine's mother and her friend attempted to squeeze the muddy water out of the fur coat, they began to giggle. Tears actually ran down their faces in their mirth leaving streaks on Martine's mother's mud-speckled face. Martine remembered her surprise at their behavior. She couldn’t believe it. 'If I had ended up in a ditch and then giggled, I really would’ve been in big, big trouble,' she had thought to herself. As an adult, she could somewhat understand their mirth but added the thought that it would only have been humorous as long as she had not been the one who had fallen into the ditch. But in spite of the giggles and guffaws, she had been sure she'd heard the chatter of her mother's false teeth. Martine's mother used paper towels in an attempt to dry her hair but the mud refused to budge; it would be a reminder throughout the entire concert of her unplanned adventure in the ditch. They emptied the gumboots of water into the toilet bowl leaving a muddy ring around the water line. And still they giggled. Martine remembered that as she stood there watching the scene unfold before her, she realized that her normally sane mother's wet fur coat smelled like a whole roomful of wet dogs. So while they giggled, she gagged. “Well we’ve got to see the show,” her mother insisted. “We’ve come all this way and we have to wait to get the bus home anyway. And besides Martine will be so disappointed if we don't see it.” “Yes,” her friend sensibly agreed. With a final glance in the mirror, her hair not looking a whole lot better than when she had first been dragged from the ditch, Martine's mother led the way from the washroom, her head held high, as she made her grand entrance into the auditorium for the biggest musical of the year. Heads turned and people stared but her mother continued the march to her seat, appearing not to notice the ogling eyes and gaping mouths.