Stitch in Snow

'The water's just great. C'mon in.' He made a snatch at my ankle and I neatly dove over his head into the water.

It was cooler than I'd thought but warm after the outside temperature. Still, I wanted to keep moving so I began to swim a lap.

'You in condition?'

'Not for a race,' I replied.

'Shall we see how many laps we can do?' He was challenging me.

'Fair enough.' We'd just see.

He moderated his stroke to mine so we could swim side by side. The first couple of laps weren't too bad. Each one was progressively harder to complete: my legs got leaden, my arms, particularly my shoulders, resisted being forced to function. Then his elbow caught and shoved water right into my open mouth so I had an excuse to stop. I half-choked so that he had to tow me to the side of the pool where I could hold on until I got my wind back in the proper pipe.

'Can't we stop now?' he asked, blowing very hard through his mouth.

'I'd think we'd better.' I was heaving as badly as he. 'I don't think I've swum like that for years…'

'Me either!'

Then we both laughed together at each other.

'Ah, vanity!' He said, starting to hoist himself out of the pool. He fell back into the water with a loud groan.

'Why do they waste youth on the young!' I hand-over-handed myself on the pool's edging to the ladder and found even that hard on my overworked arms.

I dried off and then wrapped up in the towel for the air was chill.

'I'm absolutely jacked,' he said, flopping onto one of the sun loungers.

I lay down, more gracefully I thought, on the adjacent lounger. My body seemed to throb with the exercise.

'You know something, Dan?'

'What?' His eyes were closed but he turned his head in my direction.

'I'm aware I've got blood again.'

'Oh?' He frowned in brief consideration. 'Yeah. I have, too.'

My blood was pounding through leaden limbs, my heart ought to have been audible to him from the sound of it against my rib cage. Then the inner tumult quietened and I was aware of the hiss of the snow against the glass behind me. I slewed around, trying to peer beyond the swirls. I sensed rather than saw buildings beyond, the regular bumps of parked snow-covered cars, the looming pyramids of the evergreens, their snow-burdened branches drooping.

A groan from Dan roused me and I saw him sitting up on the edge of the sun-lounger. He was flexing his shoulder muscles and stretching his arms out.

'Christ, am I out of condition!'

'Smoking too many cigarettes? No, you don't smoke.'

'Care for another… slow… lap to loosen up?'

I groaned inadvertently as I swayed to an upright position. 'Will it do any good?'

'Can't do us any more harm.'

I could feel the stress in my legs and staggered to the side of the pool. I did manage a graceful dive but then, I hadn't overdone that. I couldn't swim overarm so I sort of frogged it down to the further end. He splashed as energetically, if unscientifically, beside me. But the water was relaxing, even if all it did was hold up the muscles. We lay, flat out, flapping our hands to keep flotation, occasionally drifting together.

'This is the daftest way to spend a snow-bound morning,' said Dan, a ripple of amusement in his voice.

'Isn't it?'

'By rights, we should be out there, snowshoeing, or skating or skiing. Making use of the opportunity. Lord, I haven't had the time to ski in so long.'

'I haven't had the opportunity although someone started an artificial snow slope in Dublin.'

'In Dublin?' He roared at the notion and I wondered if I should look hurt and defend my adopted city. 'Well, we're in Denver now, and Aspen is the winter ski capital…'

'And I'm not up to any more exercise today!'

'Neither am I.' He grimaced ruefully. 'Know any good two-handed card games? Excluding poker!'

'Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I picked up a three volume set of games of patience in Dublin…'

'I hadn't noticed the Irish were noted for their patience!'

'Don't be snide. Whatever else could the poor women do while waiting for their men to come back from whatever revolution they were fighting?'

'Match point!' He got to the ladder first but waved me up before him.

As well we had finished with the pool because a group of children and three adults plowed into the room, their noisy conversation reverberating through the empty, marble-tiled space. Dan and I locked eyes, nodded and made for our towels and respective dressing rooms. He was waiting for me when I emerged and I disliked him. His hair was neatly combed and reasonably dry. Mine was still straggly damp and I did not look my best. I was feeling chilly after all my exercise.

'You're blue in the lips.'

'You've no tact, Dan. Besides, blue is the very latest fashion shade… see my nails?'

He gave my back a rough rubbing; to restore circulation, he told me as we made our way to the elevator.

'It's my lips as is blue,' I reminded him, straightening my back away from his not too gentle knuckles.

'Look, you go up to your room. I'll meet you there. Wrap yourself in a blanket. I want to get cards.'

'I've got a pack.'

'Just go along to your room, will you?' He gestured me to the elevator.

I obeyed, almost too cold to move. I had no sweaters in my suitcase: no one had predicted the damned blizzard. I knew the hotel room had felt overly warm to me after years in Irish rooms, but now it didn't seem warm at all. Swimming during a snowstorm was the daftest notion! I put my cloak on first and then the spare blanket and was still fighting the shivers. The door got knocked on.

'You squaw, me Indian brave,' Dan said in the doorway. 'Me got fire-water,' and he displayed a fifth of bourbon and a six pack of soda.

'I thought it was cards you needed.'

He jerked his chin at his shirt pocket. 'Not much choice but at least I know you can't have marked the deck.'

'I never cheat!' And then I winced at the coy floral design on the biliously coloured decks.

'Pink for you, blue for me,' said Dan, shoving me back into the room so he could close the door.

My comment was an unspellable sound.

He got glasses from the bathroom and splashed bourbon into one.

'Knock this back while I get the ice.'

The bourbon warmed pleasantly all the way down. I gave a convulsive shudder but immediately felt better.

'Now for a proper drink,' Dan said, returning with the icebucket.

We played cards for the rest of the afternoon: Russian bank, Chinese patience, what he insisted on calling Swedish Canfield to keep the games international in flavour and educational in experience, and Brazilian canasta. It was more fun than I've had in a long while: genuine, unstrained, relaxing fun.

Abruptly I folded, what with the bourbon, the exercise and, I suppose, the residual fatigue of my trip.

'Hey, I'm winning,' Dan protested.

'Hmmm. I'm sleepy.' With no more apology, I crept from the chair to the bed, and curled up. I do remember that he tugged the blanket down to cover my feet.

It was hard to struggle out of the pit of sleep but I felt an obligation to do so. The mind roused more quickly than the body, however. My eyes declined the first commands to open. I was on my left side, bundled in a beautifully warm cocoon, my hands tucked under my chin, my fore-head against something warm. I took note of the assorted odours, clean shirt, aftershave, male.

My eyes finally obeyed and there was a pool of light just beyond me. The warmth came from a male body.

I groaned. I hate to be seen with a sleep-creased face: it makes me look so elderly.

'Ah, the dead arose and was seen by many.'

'Any is too much.'

Dan chuckled and I kept my head down, hoping that he'd have the grace to turn away and let me dive to the bathroom unobserved.