“Jeezel Pete,Phoebe!”I say aloud.Pretty ridiculous, indeed.
I go ahead and pull the cashmere off over my head, turn it right-side out, and hang it by the fire.It will be nice for Evander to have something warm to wear when he comes back inside.
So what if he’s never going to want me?The world will keep spinning.When this is over, I’ll put on my big girl panties and continue on with the life I have, the one I’m immensely grateful for.
We can’t always get what we want.I think there’s been a few hit songs about that exact thing over the years, so it must be the truth.
I find the pan, open a can of Beefaroni, and bring my nose near the clumps of macaroni and sauce.Evander’s right—it smells fine.I dump contents in and set the pan on a big, flat rock placed by the fire.
While my Boyardee brunch is warming, I decide I might as well go all Little House on the Prairie and tidy up in here.I’m feeling so much better, I realize, almost back to my usual level of energy.
I came very close to dying.I’ll think about that later.
Once I push the table to its spot near the dry sink, I fold the blankets and place them on the old couch.I find a ragged broom in the back room and sweep dirt from the wood floor and the tattered rag rug.A sheet of paper I find in a drawer serves as a handy dustpan.
The whole time I’m working, I hear the now familiar stomping and scraping sounds on the roof.I glance at the ceiling, noticing that the snow has been packed tight into the cracks, like mortar.Snowflakes no longer drift down.
I bet Evander did that on purpose, creating insulation that helps keep the heat from escaping.
He’s a very smart man.
In fact…I glance around the front room.With the tarp and the chinked roof, it’s reached an almost livable temperature in here.These insulated coveralls and snow boots are too warm.
I take them off and put on my underwear beneath my leggings, then add my turtleneck over my thermal underwear top.I add a log to the fire and snarf down the fairly delicious macaroni—I was starving.
After rinsing off the spoon and pan, I decide that it would be nice to have something hot for Evander to eat.I dump two cans into the pot and return it to the flat hearthstone, giving it a stir.
I crawl under a blanket and stare at the flames.
Apparently, that’s the end of keeping my mind on other things, since I’m right back to thinking about Evander.I glance at the ceiling, the clomping and raking sounds continuing, when it suddenly occurs to me…
The roof is his escape.
As soon as Evander gets sick of me, he goes up to the roof.It’s the equivalent of how my dad heads to the woodshop to tinker, or the garage to work on one of his old cars, when he needs a break from my mom.It gets him out of the house.It’s his excuse.
One day with me and Evander already needs a man cave.
Ugh.
The thought of that makes me incredibly sad.
But it is what it is.
The walls suddenly heave in a punishing gust of wind.The flames shoot high when air swoops down the fireplace chimney.Then comes a huge crash on the roof, followed by a yelp and a sliding sound that I follow with my eyes until it goes silent at the opposite end of the shack.
Evander’s fallen off the roof.
I jump up, fling wide the plastic, and pull open the door.Just then, I realize I’m not wearing my boots or coveralls.Too late for that now.
“Evander!”I scream into the raging winds, but my voice gets swallowed as I step outside.He can’t hear me.He’s on the opposite side of the shack.The wind is as loud as a freight train.“Evanderrrrrrr!”
Only then do I reach a full understanding of this storm.My eyes widen.My mouth falls open.My heart seizes from the bitter cold.I’m wrapped in a curtain of horizontal snow.
I look down.I’m up to my knees in heavy, wet flakes.I look up.The drifts are so tall that I’m standing in a narrow canyon of ice.
I run as fast as I can down the carved-out path.No idea where I’m going.Already knowing I’m risking my life doing this.
I don’t care.
