Page 1 of Home Between Homes

ONE

INTO THE FOREST

Nine hours and fifty-two minutes,not counting the twenty-minute stop for lunch. That was how long it took me to get here.

All that, only to end up in a white purgatory with nothing but snow, trees, snow, mountains, snow, and a road in front of me. No other cars, no houses, not even a traffic sign for twenty miles because there was just nothing to announce.

If it weren’t for the map app on my phone, which said it was only ten miles to go, I wouldn’t be so sure. Not to mention the little orange sign in the shape of a gas pump on my dashboard that had been flashing at me for at least half an hour.

Ever since I left the middle of nowhere in the south to drive to bumfuck nowhere in the north, my hand kept reaching for the back of my neck. There was a little itch that wouldn’t go away—a pinch as if the world’s smallest cat was hiding in the collar of my sweater, occasionally coming out to scratch me. But there was no cat. Not even an insect. I made sure of that during my lunch break by nearly breaking my neck, trying to get a look at it in the tiny mirror in the passenger seat visor.

I should have just called it off and told them I couldn’t make it up here with the FDA start date coming up, that I couldn’t waste my time doing a teenager’s job. But who was I kidding?

I was on my way to my first job in four months. Dog sitting.Housesitting. The easiest job in the world. One I had done for years before and during college. The only one I could think of going back to after everything that had happened this year. I applied out of a lack of options, long before my dad used his connections to get me an interview for a ‘real job,’ as he had put it. But if there’s one thing my parents love, it’s seeing things through, so I had an excellent excuse to come here anyway. Taking care of the McCormac's old Labrador wasn't a job. It was a vacation I was getting paid for. A change of scenery that would hopefully help me either figure shit out or at least let me get some sleep again. No one here knew me, which meant no questions about what happened. No pitying eyes as I struggled for words to explain. And I was low-key excited about it. If only it weren’t for this damn snow.

A sign appeared at the end of the road.Finally.One arrow pointed straight ahead, proclaiming that it was only four miles to Seastone, the other to the right, with a—drumroll—gas station symbol next to it. I let out a deep sigh, relieved that at least one of my wishes had been granted.

Just as I put my blinkers on, not that anyone was around to see them, the itch flared up as if the tiny cat now had a crossbow and was shooting tiny arrows at my neck. I dug in with my fingernails, scratching as hard as I could until a jolt shot through my body and made me gasp.

The tips of my index and middle fingers were now dipped in a deep, viscous red.What a nuisance.

“Merry Christmas, idiot,” I scolded myself.

It didn’t help that the radio played one Christmas song after the other as if it were the season of joy.

Newsflash: For many of us, it isn’t.

I clutched the steering wheel with my left hand and, not having a handkerchief handy, rubbed my fingers against my black jeans to get rid of the blood.

The woman on the radio sighed. “I can’t remember the last time we had a real white Christmas, Kenneth.” Her voice was so high that it was a wonder that not only dogs could hear her.

“Not since I was young, Barbara,” Kenneth replied. I could see his fake smile before my eyes. “But we should all take precautions because the weather report says there’s a chance we’ll see even more snow?—”

I turned off the radio. If I kept listening to their overly happy voices, it was only a matter of time before my ears started bleeding, too. The whole point of coming here was to get away from it all. Away from my nagging parents, the three hundred thousand dollars in student debt, the questions of why I was changing careers so suddenly, and the holiday of pretending to be happy when you’re not.

On the roof, visible from the highway, was a pine green corporate logo announcing the nearby gas station as part of the Taft Gas conglomerate.

The map app on my phone complained as I made the unplanned turn. But unlike my parents, I could silence that voice with the press of a button.

I pulled up to the pump closest to the road. A sign was taped to each of the four pumps.

Get ready for the blizzard and fill up now. If the weather matches the forecast, we will be closed.

How reassuring.

For the last four winters, they had predicted that‘this was going to be the worst one of the decade,’and then I didn’t evensee any snow, except for a thin layer one morning in March that was gone by noon.

Sure, it had snowed around here. There were giant piles all around me at the gas station, but that was misleading. Piles of snow always made it look like there was more than there actually was.

After turning off the engine, I leaned over to the glove compartment and fumbled for a travel-size pack of tissues. Carefully, I patted one over the wound on my neck. A glance revealed only a tiny red dot on the otherwise white tissue, telling me it had dried enough.

I put on my gloves, scarf, and beanie, hoping this would be enough for the three minutes I would spend outside. As soon as I opened the door, the cold air crawled under my sweater like some creep who wanted to feel me up. Stifling a shudder, I yanked the back door open, grabbed my black winter jacket from the back seat, and threw it around my shoulders, trying my best not to growl.

I slid my credit card into the pump, pulled out the nozzle, and walked to the back of my car. I pushed the gas lid so it would pop open, and just as I brought the nozzle to the hole, I stopped.

The corners of my mouth twitched, and my nostrils flared.

Why hadthatimagepopped into my head?

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