“He said you wanted him to come by again and check on me for the second day in a row. Is that not true?”
“I told him the first day…but not yesterday. Why, did he come by?”
Strange. So he came by with the water of his own volition?
“Yes, he came by.”
“Oh, well that was nice of him. Such a nice boy, that Shane. Coming by without even me asking him. He probably sensed you were out of sorts.”
I gulped, and a rush of adrenaline streamed through me.
First of all, he wasn’t exactly a boy anymore.
And I wouldn’t put him in the nice category, either.
And now I knew he had lied about his reason for coming over. But why?
Did he really just want to give me jugs of water?
“Such a nice boy,” I emphasized, but I don’t think she caught my sarcasm.
He was definitely quite the man now.
Mom sighed. “Alright. Well, you call me if you need anything. I’m going back to work tomorrow, but I’ll be there if you need me. I can take vacation days--”
“Mom, I said, I’ll be fine. Please, stop worrying. I’m a grown adult now.”
“Okay. Love you,” she said.
“Love you too.”
When I got home, the place seemed even more freezing than it had been when I left, and I couldn’t hear the furnace going at all.
Keeping my jacket and hat on out of necessity from the cold, I flicked the light on and headed down to the basement to take a look. After staring at the heater for a few minutes and trying to look up some DIY videos on YouTube, I thought better of becoming an amateur heating tech and googled heating companies near me.
The closest one that came up was in the nearest “large” town, forty-five minutes away. Seriously?
When I called them, no one picked up--typical for a Sunday--so I left a message for them to call me back and said it was urgent. I even called another company in a bigger town two hours away, but there was no answer there either so I left a message as well.
Heading back upstairs, I checked the temperature on the wall.
Thirty seven degrees Fahrenheit inside? Is this a joke?
I laughed. My father always liked to play practical jokes on me. Like the one time he managed to convince me that he had seriously taken my nose when I was four. Maybe this was one more way he wanted to play with me?
After fixing lunch of hot chicken soup, I started going through his toolshed, which was in the garage attached to the house. It was even colder in there, and after a half hour of putting his tools in a box, my hands were shaking. I needed gloves, but with gloves I felt too clumsy to organize his things.
“Dad, seriously?” I whispered to no one, smiling and shaking my head. “Is this because I was almost with a guy yesterday in here? I swear, I didn’t mean to do it. And it won’t happen in here again.”
Just then, a big gust of wind had pounded the outside of the wall hard enough to knock the hammer off the shelf. My heart started to pound like crazy.
Without picking it up I walked back inside, feeling a rush of emotion as I sat down on the couch.
Aside from some yoga I did, I generally wasn’t religious, and I didn’t even bother to check the star sign of my potential dates like my roommate back at home. I wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural, but something about a hammer falling when I thought about my father still gave me the chills.
The temperature was rapidly dropping, and it was so cold inside the house now that my breath was frosty and the almond milk I’d left on the counter was beginning to chunk up with ice.
That’s when I realized, this was not a drill: I would have to find a motel for the night.
I packed a suitcase for the night, tossing in a few of the books my father had gifted me, some pajamas and generously throwing in a few other outfits. I also threw a few books into a bag and brought them, in case I needed some reading material tonight.
Outside, thick flakes of snow were beginning to fall. I had to warm up my car and brush the snow off the windows before I was able to get out of the driveway.
Black Mountain had one motel. I gave them a call as I was en route in my car and put them on speaker so I could concentrate on the snowy roads.
“I’m sorry, we’re full for the night,” the hotel assistant said.
“Seriously? I mean, how many people stay out here? It’s like the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s the holidays. This usually happens around this time of year.”
“Is there anywhere else I can stay?”
“The nearest place is forty-five minutes from here. I don’t know if I would drive there, though. It’s dark, and have you heard about the blizzard coming?”
I pulled over to the side of the road to keep talking, because the snow was getting thick.
“There’s a blizzard coming?” I asked, then realized how dumb my question was the moment it left my lips.
The girl on the phone chuckled.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can tell by your accent. Where are you from?”
I sighed. In Florida I had been known during my high school years as ‘the girl with the funny midwestern accent.’ And here, everyone was giving me dirty looks and, apparently, noticing how different my accent was from living in Florida for almost ten years. In Florida, I was the girl from Michigan, and in Michigan, I was the girl from Florida.
I wanted to know, where did I fit in, exactly? Was I doomed to always feel like a fish out of water?
“I’m from here but I moved away before high school,” I explained. “Look, are you sure you don’t have any rooms? I’m really desperate here.”
“If someone cancels I’ll give you a call. You’re fourth on the list.”
My stomach dropped. “So if three more people cancel, I’ll get a room? That seems unlikely.”
“I’m sorry, I have to go, there’s a guest here. Good luck!”
With that, she hung up, and I realized I hadn’t even given her my name to put on the alleged ‘list.’
When I checked the weather forecast for the night my jaw dropped when I saw Black Mountain was on track for over a foot of snow before sunrise.
There was no way I was going to get a room.
As the flakes fell, I realized driving on a two lane highway with zero visibility to get to the next town would be a death wish.
I was screwed.
So, I did what any reasonable person would do in my situation.
I headed to the only bar in Black Mountain for a drink.
At least that would warm me up, and I could clear my head.
If I had known what a ruckus one little visit to the bar would stir up in this tiny town, though, I wouldn’t have gone at all.
7
Shane
2 HOURS Earlier
Some people went to a church when they needed a moment to think, to feel, to reflect. For them, the feeling of being in a religious community was therapeutic.
For me, the Black Mountain Sports Complex was my sacred space. I’d always felt like life was an uphill battle, but on the ice, everyone had an equal shot at victory.
Unless they were playing against me, of course. In that case, they were going down.