I decide to leave the box where it landed. What am I really going to do with my mother’s clothes and broken knick-knacks? They’re trash. Everything she touched is trash and I don’t want any of it. I tumble down off the front porch and catch myself before falling again. I cover my eyes from the wind and look back at the cabin’s foggy window. That selfish prick of a Montgomery better not be watching me.
Trudging through the snow, I set my sights on the closest lump of snow and pray it’s my car.
A trickle of ice trails down the back of my collar and crawls down my spine. There’re a few inches of the white shit on the ground, enough to make it hard to walk, and the air is so crisp and cold it stings my nose whenever I inhale. This is insane. I can’t believe I let myself get into this situation.
When I finally reach the first car-shaped hill of snow I start wiping at the mound with my sleeve. My arm instantly burns from the cold. I almost start crying from pure joy when my car window appears. I brush off the rest of the door and yank like a lunatic at the handle. My hands are too numb to push the button and pull at the same time. I have to slow down my movements and use both hands.
It takes three tries, a ton of curses, then the door opens.
It’s not warmer inside, but the cover of the car cuts the bite of the wind on my wet skin. I bring my hands to mouth and try to warm them with my breath. I don’t wait for the feeling to come back to them. I dig in my front pocket of my jeans until I can pull out my car key. My eyes blur with tears. I fumble with trembling fingers and fight to fit the key into the ignition. When I finally push the key in and I turn it, the engine stutters once, twice, then dies.
“No. No, no, no,” I cry out. “Please, God. Please.”
I try again.
And again.
The fourth time it catches and the engine revs to life.Oh, thank God!
I let the car warm for a few moments, then give up on waiting and flip the heat on. It blasts out cold, whistling air, then slowly but surely it warms. My windshield wipers only clean a small area, but I don’t care. I need down this mountain and into warm clothes as soon as possible.
I yank the gear shift into drive and my tires spin and spin. The car doesn’t move at all. I press harder on the gas and the back of the car slides a bit, but the car still won’t go forward. Then all the lights on my dashboard flash on and a beeping chirps out.What the hell it that?The small check engine light flashes bright red, then stays on. They all stay on. Well, only until the engine cuts off and all the lights fade out and I’m sitting inside an icebox, unable to move.
I shudder out a shallow breath. Okay, not a problem. I’ll just call for someone to come and get me. They have to have a ton of tow trucks around here, just waiting for idiots like me to show up. Idiotic New Englanders that are never ready for this kind of a storm. I push off the seat to get to my cell in my back pocket.How the hell will I be able to pay for a tow truck, though?The last time I looked at my checking account there was only $153 left in it. Maybe I’ll use my emergency credit card and pay it back over a few months. What kind of interest am I going to have to pay on that crap? It’s going to be a two-hundred-dollar tow that will cost me four hundred in the long run.
What the—? My back pocket is empty!I scramble around, wet clothes scraping against my skin, burning and chaffing. The phone’s not in my other pocket either.
Shit. It’s still in the house with Vaughn Montgomery.
