“Oh, no. No, that’s not safe!” Joe whips around so fast that the candy cane flies onto the dash like a peppermint missile.
One thing that I took from my time with a guy who suddenly wanted to turn every date into a health and fitness activity is my confidence that if Joe can drop me off a mile or even two from the cabin, I’ll be fine to hike there—especially if I change into different boots and put on my ski parka.
I hold up my hand as Joe keeps protesting. “Take me as close as you can.” I start pulling my luggage and purse up from the spacious floor of the cab. It hits me afresh that Josh kept the beautifully wrapped gifts that I had for him. He drove off with them in the backseat.
Selfish.
This trip—his idea.
Isolating me from a family I love so he could have his week with Mother Nature? Selfish or spiritual?
Wanting lots of lovers to be “free,” to escape some concept of “ownership.” Selfish or enlightened?
He wants what he wants, but he doesn't want the responsibility that comes with the good things in life, sacrifice, compromise, honesty...
I thought I had hit the jackpot with Josh, and now I feel like I got one of those phony “You Have Won” emails.
“Miss Briana—”
“No, Joe, listen. I think I could use a walk in the blistering cold right about now. I need something to cool me down, or I just might explode.”
JOE MAKES ME TAKE HIScell phone number and his big flashlight, which can totally double as a club.
The hilly landscape and the clear night are a mix of silver, snow, and dark, piercing blue. I can see a light in the distance, faint but promising. “You really can see for miles,” I whisper, setting off with more confidence than I really feel.
Of course... The farther along I walk, the more I realize this was stupid.
Stupid, heartbroken, angry people should not be allowed to make their own decisions. Well, not without consulting with at least two other sane adults.
Why didn’t I listen to Joe?
Because credit card balance. And I didn’t see any hotels in Pine Ridge, anyway.
“Argh!” I let out one sharp scream into the night, and clouds of frosty air shroud my face.
The road is small and winding, unsalted and slick. It keeps climbing higher. The light gets brighter a little at a time—but the wind gets colder. The night seems darker. Pines crowd in on me, and something about this place seems ancient. Isolated.
Menacing.
I wanted a Hallmark movie.
If I were driving up here, carols on the car radio, leaning on a manly, muscular shoulder, heater blasting to keep my toes warm, it would have been.
Walking alone with only a flashlight and the occasional rustle from the woods changes it from Hallmark to horror. I try to walk faster, but even in my good boots, I skid and have to slow down. I start to sweat despite the cold, my luggage shifting uncomfortably.
Fuck you, Josh, and may your balls be frostbitten the next time you eventhinkof shagging some snowbunny in the great, freezing outdoors.
I juggle my bags from hand to shoulder and take out my phone. If I talk to my mom, or even keep looking at my GPS, I’ll feel better. I’ll be able to make it the last—half a mile? Quarter?
I turn to look over my shoulder.
I’ve barely started.
And my phone doesn’t have a signal right here. Maybe a call to 911 would go through.
But by the time they find me, if I stop moving?
I could be a bear’s late-night snack. Or maybe a frozen statue.
