springfever

My friend from college, Shelley, and her identical twin Sheila, just last month moved in together to the other end of the building with their fiancé, Stanley. Just a few weeks before, he had taken them both to dinner at CeeShee’s, in the west side of our city, and in front of stunned diners, proposed his unconditional love to each of them. Apparently, he couldn’t live with just one or the other. The two sisters giggled at each other, knowingly. They exchanged a look and a smirk. Finally! He had finally understood! They formed a triangle and he was the bottom layer of their pyramid.

Down on one knee and in between the two, and with a chuckle and a tilted head, Stanley recalled that unusually cold November morning the three of them met…

As always he woke early, but with the distinct impression that no matter what he did to get to work that day, his tardiness would be inevitable. He climbed out of bed, could feel the frost on the window, looked out and realized the black sky was white with snow. Underneath his balcony, the snow stretched far and wide, and up about three to five inches. This being Vancouver, Stanley knew the city by now was completely shut down.

The Skytrain only being a few blocks away, he braved the slippy sidewalk and entered the platform at Broadway to absolute chaos. People were scattered everywhere, shivering impatiently, cursing the white stuff, waiting for trains that had shut down miles before they rolled into the station. Typically, the staff struggled as to how to respond. No one seemed to be prepared; few gloves, no scarves, sneakers and barely any toques were worn. Stanley, who wouldn’t set foot far out his door without his morning coffee, kept his hands warm with his overheated cup. People were yelling people were wailing and people were screaming, but there was some laughter as well, and fortunately, Stanley’s ears pricked up at the sound of his siren’s giddiness.

When his eyes met hers the snow in his sneakers suddenly warmed his toes. She smiled and asked if he was aware that the bottom of his coffee cup somehow soaked through and spilled down his pants. All he could do was nod, as he noticed she spoke but he did not understand--as by the sight of her, he was completely entranced.

She introduced herself as Shelley, and upon doing so, she made a beckoning call that reached behind Stanley and wrapped its way around him until Sheila stood right next to her sister. They were on route to their culinary arts program at the Art College downtown but somehow found themselves in the midst of all the morning chaos. It’s too bad because that day they were to spend designing desserts. Sweet, creamy and mouthwatering crumpets that would have thawed the entire school.

Stanley didn’t say anything because his jaw seemed to be broken. A voice out of nowhere, possibly a man walking by, mentioned something about breakfast, and thirty digits later, plus a few more to direct some voice box extensions, and the three of them sat at one of the coffee shops up the drive—the furthest from the trains.

They used flimsy napkins to dry the snowballs from their hair. Stanley, ever the former class clown, at one point threw himself down to the sidewalk for a dawn filled angel delight. To his surprise, Shelley and Sheila followed his lead, laughing all the while. In between feigned coughs—the odd sneeze or two to carry along their bluff, they exchanged stories well into the afternoon, of snowmen and snow forts from their pasts…

My friend from college, Shelley, and her identical twin, Sheila, invited me in for tea as I knocked on their door the day after they settled, the first week of spring. They told me that sometimes they face scrutiny in public, as strangers tend to jump to judgment. Stanley does not come in between them. They do not need to take sides. Instead he nurtures the equal sides of them he adores. To them, this is all they require in a partner, and if they have to take turns--while the other takes five, then life is just that.

We see them wander down the halls these days, the three of them, arm in arm, hand in hand, and we smile and wonder if their version of love will ultimately last.


Ldm