It was about as cold as a mid-February morning could be. Nothing could have been worse than battling this cold Canadian winter morning. Even though the sun shone brightly through the cabin windows, it was a mistake to trust it. It was so cold I had given up trying to start the old jeep. The engine wouldn't turn over, so I decided to stay another day.
After stumbling from the car in the deep snow, I finally got back inside the cabin. I kicked the thick layer of snow off my boots, and tried my best to keep warm. I sat down in the rickety rocking chair, trying to warm up by the woodstove. My fingers were numb from the cold, and the small fire in front of me was barely doing the job.
The cabin was so old and poorly-insulated that most of the warm air seemed to go back outside. Somehow a layer of snow managed to find its way inside, and clung to the inner walls of the cabin. The worn out sleeping bag I was huddled under wasn't sufficient for this type of cold, but at least my fingers were finally warm. I added a couple more logs, and poured myself a cup of JD.
It was times like these that I which I wasn't alone on Valentine's Day. It was times like these I wished for a warm body to keep me warm. Just as I began to feel warm, I was interrupted by a loud bang from across the road. Most noises scared me when I was alone in the cabin. It was hard not hearing even the slightest noise from the road. But this was different, and was so loud it seems to have caused the cabin to shake.
I quickly grabbed my jacket from couch, and threw my boots on. I ran toward the road, doing my best not to stumble in the two feet of wet snow. An old red pickup had skidded on the thin ice just off the steep hill, and careened into the ditch. It wasn't the first someone had lost control of their car, and crashed into the ditch. The road was pretty narrow, and I had never seen it happen in the winter before. Usually, people were more careful and drove cautiously on the hill. It was clear that the driver had lost control of his truck, and his from his yelling it was clear he was in a tremendous amount of pain.
Dan's perfect teeth glistened, as he smiled at me from across the table. His cabin wasn't much bigger than mine, and you could see most of it from where we were sitting. His cabin was certainly was a lot nicer than mine, and definitely didn't shake every time a car past by. Besides a couple nails he had procured from a nearby hardware store, just about every part of the cabin was hand built by him. He sourced the wood from his large wooded property, and a friend helped him put the roof together. Even the venison we were eating had been hunted and prepared by Dan.
Dan lived alone in his cabin, and rarely had visitors. He used to be some sort of CEO but got tired of how stressful that life was for him. Truthfully, I was a bit jealous. He had the cabin life that I always dreamt off. I usually went up to my dad's place on the odd weekend, and my life continued once the week started. Here we were enjoying this cold winter morning, eating food that he hunted and drinking alcohol that he brewed.
"You saved my life, I owe you one." He said, raising his glass in my direction.
"I didn't do much man, just waited for the ambulance." I replied.
"What about pulling me out of the truck and keeping me warm." He said, slowly drinking his whiskey.
Dan had no idea that I nearly died trying to save him. I almost lost my hand to frostbite while running back through the snow to grab the sleeping bag. While pulling him out of the crumpled-up pickup, my hand was so numb I was barely able to put the blanket over his body. Luckily, the paramedics showed up just in time to warm him up. The paramedics explained that another five minutes, and my hand would have gone. But it was all worth it seeing him alive. The only injury that remained was a thin scar running down the left side of his cheek. Truthfully, it looked pretty badass on him. It looked like he got attacked in a fight or something like that.
When Dan stood up, you felt it from across the room. He was a large burly man, standing well over six-five. He probably weighed an easy two-fifty or maybe a few pounds more. He carried the weight well because of how tall and built he was. His plaid shirt and worn blue Levi jeans made reminded me of those cowboys in the old cigarette ads. His shirt was so tight that I could see his thick chest bulging through, and his strong arms nearly tore through his shirtsleeves. In contrast, I was skinny twenty-five year old who would probably lose a fight to a six-grader.
Dan poured me another drink of homemade hooch, and pushed his wooden chair aside. It was slowly started to seep into my body, finally getting me properly warmed up. The stuff tasted a bit gross but after a few shots it didn't matter much. Dan reached up into the small wooden cabinet just above his gas stove. He came back with a small wooden box, and set it down on table. He was sitting so close to me, I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.
I wanted to rip his top shirt button off, and run my hands on his thick chest. Maybe he'd let me kiss him under his big brown moustache.
"Open up the little box." He said, smiling at me.
I was barely looking at the little box he set on the table. I was sneaking a peak between his blue Levis. His blue jeans were so tight, that I could see a thick bulge just under his brass belt buckle. He didn't notice me sneaking a peak, and I pretended to care about what was in this box.
Inside the box there was a small gold coin with an inscription. The coin had a peculiar dent on the side, likely from its old age. The date was so worn out it was impossible to read. There was a faded inscription on it that was barely visible. As much as I loved coins and languages, I had to ask him what the inscription meant.
"I knew you would ask about the inscription, they always do." He said.
He took a long sip of his hooch straight from the glass bottle, and his big silver eyes twinkled at me.
He explained that the gold coin was passed down in his family for many generations. It was rumored that this coin had been held by a long line of Spanish kings and queens. The coin had survived many conflicts, and had been carried through many continents. Pointing to the dent on the coin, he explained the coin was blessed. During the Spanish civil war, this coin had stopped a bullet and saved his grandfather's life. It was a fascinating story to hear, considering he had just escaped death. I didn't want to interrupt him, but I really wanted to know what the coin was about.
"So what does the inscription mean?" I asked him.
"You know its valentine's day?" He said, as he lit up a cigar.
"Guess it is, eh." I replied, not really caring about some made up holiday.
"El amor nunca muere." he said, handing me the coin.
The coin was oddly heavy, and a lot heavier than any coin in my collection. I guess that's what it would take to stop a bullet.
He pressed the coin in my palm, and wrapped his fingers tightly around mine. He turned his chair towards me, and placed his leg between mine. His big silver eyes seemed to light up as he moved closer to me. I started to shake as he set the cigar down in the ashtray. There was something about him that made me shake.
"Love never dies" he said.
