1
Stephanie Ramirez
“So,” my mother’s voice cuts into my ear, “are you coming to the wedding next weekend?”
I sigh, keeping my gaze on the road ahead of me and both hands firmly on the wheel. My mom has impeccable timing when it comes to calling me—the moment she chose today is while I’m trying to navigate my Honda SUV through the early stages of a snowstorm to get to the log cabin I’m staying in for a long, peaceful weekend in the mountains away from busy Hawk City behind me.
“I don’t know, Mom. It’s not really my scene.” Her second cousin’s daughter or something is getting married at the hoity-toity country club in the city. I won’t call my mom a snob, but her side of the family tends to look down on others who don’t share their same lifestyle, and that includes schoolteachers.
“What do you mean, it’s not your scene? This is family. You should be there for your family.”
“I hardly know Chrystal,” I protest, glancing at the GPS on the built-in screen in the dashboard. I make the right turn it tells me to. “I’ve met her, like, three times in my life. And I certainly have no idea about the guy she’s marrying.”
“She’ll be disappointed if you don’t come.”
“Mom, she doesn’t even know who I am,” I say flatly. “Besides, the country club isn’t my favorite place to be, anyway.”
“You know your father and I have been proud members for years,” Mom replies. “Your presence there is important. Just stop giving me a hard time and come, Stephanie. You can bring Brent.”
A flash of anger blazes through me at the mention of that name. “You know Brent and I broke up six months ago.” It was only the worst several months of my life—not counting the three miserable years I spent with him trying to get him to love me, convinced if I held on just a little longer he would come to appreciate me—but, nah, Mom, don’t sweat it.
“Then bring someone else. I don’t care who. Don’t make me look bad, Stephanie.”
My mom’s biggest fear in life is “looking bad.” She and my dad didn’t have shit when they got married thirty-five years ago. Eventually, he got a great job as a business analyst about fifteen years ago with a fledgling company and made partner when I was in undergrad. As a way to stick it in the faces of the family members who gave her a hard time for being “poor” before, my mom insisted on joining the country club. I’m happy they’re doing well, but my mom has turned into one of the most pretentious people I know.
“…bring…look…look good. Just…okay?”
“Mom, I’m driving,” I tell her, unsure if she can hear me. “I’ll call you later.” I hang up before she can say anything else.
For a long few moments, I focus hard on the road. Up in the mountains, predictably, the weather is even worse. My cell phone’s signal fades in and out as I guide my Honda higher into the mountains. My confidence in taking this trip by myself, however, went offline about an hour ago.
Fat, wet flakes smack the windshield and I crank the wipers up to the next speed, fearing they’re going to fly off my car. The snow started thirty minutes ago. I was supposed to have been tucked into my friend Lisa’s parents’ cabin by then in a cozy sweater in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine in hand, but one wrong turn became four, and now it’s dark and the forecasted storm—that was supposed to be the backdrop for my long weekend of solitude and confidence-building—is upon me, the small town of Hawk Valley, and the mountains.
“Please just let me get there,” I whisper into the repetitive squeal of the windshield wiper blades and the low roar of the SUV’s heater, which is on full blast to ensure the snow melts on the windshield on contact. “If I can just get there, everything’ll be fine.”
Oh, really? a sarcastic voice in my head replies. Just like everything was fine after Brent tried to control your life, made you feel like you were helpless without him, and then wound up cheating on you for the last eight months?
“Shut up,” I mutter. I can be a real asshole to myself sometimes. Admittedly, too much. I’m hard on myself, but the breakup with my ex has made things even worse. He’s been out of my life for the past six months but rebuilding my life and my heart in the aftermath has been so much harder. It’s not that I miss him—I sure as hell don’t. At least, not anymore. But when someone convinces you you’re less than nothing without them in your life dictating every step, every decision, and bending you to their will when you’re not looking, the damage is devastating and hits harder than you really know in the moment.
The past six months of getting over everything have been one long, rickety ride to healing where every so often I find a new problem with the raggedy cart leading me along—a broken axel here, a rusty spoke there, and a huge hole in the bottom that’s steadily been spilling all the supplies I need to stay alive.
Lisa and I made these plans to take a long best-friends weekend here. Her well-to-do folks winter in Florida, and their cabin stands idle most of the year except Christmas, when their whole family gathers. Lisa invited me, said we’d watch our favorite non-romantic movies, drink as much wine as we could stand, and eat our weight in charcuterie. She’s a therapist, so I knew an unofficial, off-the-books session was going to be on the agenda for me as well. I despise opening up and talking about my emotions—probably because Brent criticized me for having any for basically the entire duration of our relationship and made me feel as though they were a nuisance to him—but…growth! Confidence! Change!
My tire hits a slick patch on the winding mountain road and skids a little, even though I’m crawling along. There are no other cars in sight, but the snowfall is so heavy I doubt I would have been able to see another vehicle, anyway. Somehow my death grip on the wheel tightens even more as I quickly correct the car, and my heart pounds hard in my ears. What am I doing?
I passed through the town of Hawk Valley right before the snow started. I told myself I could get to the cabin in time. But now I think I’m hopelessly lost.
Should I just pull over? I slow the car to a stop and gnaw my lip. I try to think of the right thing to do, but all I can hear is the awful squelch-squelch of the windshield wipers and get lost in the hypnotizing rhythm.
“Snap out of it!” I say sharply out loud. I rest my forehead on the wheel, trying not to panic and failing.
Lisa cancelled on me this afternoon. Her young son came down with the flu at school, and her husband is on the other side of the world for business. “You should still go,” she said firmly. “Enjoy the cabin all to yourself this weekend. It’s so peaceful and still. I made sure to stock the fridge, so there’s plenty of food to cook or heat.”
I got so lost in a fantasy of taking a hot bubble bath in the huge Jacuzzi tub in the master bath with a glass of wine that I agreed to go without her. Why shouldn’t I? I have a long weekend due to a day off at the public school where I teach fifth grade literature. I couldn’t do much outside, but a cozy, relaxing weekend was just what I needed.
It would just be a little snow, I told myself that afternoon when I jauntily packed the car. What could go wrong?