A Knight in a beat up Chevy Citation

 

A few days before Valentine’s Day in 1993 I got a flight from Washington, D.C. where I was living at the time, to Boston. My fiancée, Brian, was living in Boston getting his Masters at Harvard. When I arrived I found out that he had arranged a surprise for Valentine’s Day; we were going to spend the weekend in a nice hotel that was hosting a special Valentine’s celebration. Naturally I was thrilled by his romantic gesture. 

   We drove through the swirling snow in Brian’s old car, a very sorry looking Chevy Citation, to the hotel. We went for a relaxing swim in the pool and then got ready for the dinner dance. It was as we were swaying together on the dance floor that I started to feel odd. Queasy, dizzy, fuzzy, and very much not at all alright. 

   I tried to push through but in the end Brian realized that I was too sick to enjoy the weekend away. We drove back to Beacon Hill and he helped me into the apartment. 

   It wasn’t long before it became clear that something was very amiss. I felt as if a beast of some sort was gnawing away at my insides and the pain was excruciating. Then I passed out in the shower and we decided that I needed help. So much snow, in what was now almost a blizzard, had fallen that Brian could not get the car out of its tiny parking space and the roads were unplowed. 

   With me groaning, barely able to stand upright, he all but carried me to Mass General hospital, which thankfully wasn’t far away. I barely remember that journey because I was so confused and in so much pain, but I recall fragments of memory; sliding on the road, heavy flakes pouring out of the night sky, street lamps glowing through the veil of snow, Brian’s voice pulling me along. 

   At the hospital people kept asking for my insurance card and I had no idea what they were talking about. My what? Brian stepped in and took over. After what felt like hours and hours I was finally attached to fluids and pain meds were on board; a very nasty case of gastritis they said. 

  I quite honestly do not remember the journey home because I was barely aware of anything. I was very ill for more than a week and Brian took care of me as best he could in between going to classes. 

   When I was finally back on my feet, several pounds thinner, we walked through the snow covered streets to Boston common, and I went ice skating for the first time. That afternoon in the park, with snow falling all around us, sliding and laughing on the ice, was one of the best Valentine’s Days ever. Brian has been my knight in a beat up Citation ever since. Although the Citation has long since gone to the big garage in the sky, may it rest in peace.