Page 2 of One Chance to Stay
When I got up, he leaned in, and we kissed. I had tensed. It wasn’t horrible. I teased that being gay had its advantages. There wouldn’t be any translating what my girlfriendsaidshe wanted versus what shereallymeant. I had politely said thanks and offered to call him a cab. It could have ended there, and I’d consider myself flattered, but I opened the door and asked, “What if?”
“Maybe I should have brought scotch?”
The kiss wasn’t at the center of the issue. For five years, I had doled out advice with every cocktail. I knew how to make a mean Manhattan, but at thirty-two, I thought I’d be somewhere else in life. The kiss had started a landslide, and when I won a week's stay at Valhalla, I took it. I needed to take my supernatural ability to solve problems and turn it inward. This was definitely on the cocktail menu.
“Or I can be distracted instead.”
My eyes crossed as I watched a tiny flake drift downward. It hit my nose before dissolving. Looking at the sky, the sun had vanished behind gray clouds. Tiny specks of snow were falling,making this the perfect Christmas postcard. I guess I couldn’t stay and contemplate my future. Oh, no, my identity crisis would need to wait until I got back to the inn. Then, maybe a little longer, as I indulged in some hot cocoa.
Everything held its breath. Me, the trees, even the valley. The snow shifted from majestic to problematic. The weather app hadn’t mentioned snow today, but when did a forecast ever get it right? I slid off the rock, having a quick stretch. I needed to get back to my truck before it got dark and snow covered the trail.
“Life will wait.” It always did. Something told me Firefly wouldn't let me wait forever.
FROSTBITE & FIREPLACES
“I’m going to die.” I'm a Mainer. It shouldn't be the cold that did me in.
My boots crunched in the snow, sinking up to the shin. I held up my phone, flashing the light around, hoping I recognized anything. Trees. Snow. More trees. If I had realized survival required studying the trees, I’d have spent more time admiring them on my way up the mountain.
“Get some fresh air, they said. It’ll do wonders, they said. Nobody said anything about frostbite.”
Wiggling my toes, I knew they moved, but I couldn’t feel the scratchiness of my wool socks. My fingers were no better. I couldn’t be far from the truck. The snow had turned from serene to dangerous. Every person in Maine recognized the transition. Roads turned from wet to treacherous. Driveways would need shoveling. The inhabitants would transition from jeans and hoodies to snow pants and thermal jackets.
None of them would be hiking on a mountain.
I checked my phone again. Seven percent battery life. The text with my photo still hadn’t been sent, which meant my panicked text still hung in limbo.
Patrick: Between Firefly and Merryville. Look for my truck. Lower overlook trail. Not sure if I can make it back. Send help.
Taking a steadying breath, I flexed my fingers, trying to keep the circulation going. As long as I felt cold, I had time. It’s when it turned into a false warm I’d get worried. Until then, I still had some fight in me.
The light on my phone wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to pick up the pace before it died. Flicking off the light, the darkness raced in. I don’t know what I hoped to see. Maybe the lights from a plow? A fire? Twinkling Christmas lights decorating a house?
“Holy crap.” Narrowing my eyes, I tried to ensure they weren’t playing a trick on me. Somewhere in the distance, I found the faint glow of a window. Hypothermia didn’t come with hallucinations like the desert, did it? Without options, I prayed it would guide me to a sweet couple willing to take me in.
The crunch returned as I headed for the light. I pulled out the light, making sure I didn’t run into yet another tree. Six percent. I could make it.
“Martini. Manhattan. Cosmo. Tom Collins. Sex on the Beach.” After tonight, I’d gladly welcome the heat of the sun and sand in the crack of my ass. It only reminded me that my nose had stopped burning. “Moscow Mule. Old Fashioned. What’s the blue one. A blue lagoon?”
Running through the drink list didn’t stop the cold, but it gave me a distraction from my impending death. I wanted to curse myself for being dumb. Who goes up a mountain in December hoping for some sort of epiphany? If I didn’t make it to the house, I wouldn’t have to worry about my problems anymore. Hey, if Death snatched me, I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling stuck anymore. Problem solved.
“Not today, Death.” The problem would have to wait until the sensation returned to my toes.
As I stepped from the forest into a clearing, I let out a sigh of relief. A light. I couldn’t see the house, but the light stood out like a beacon. I lifted my phone, ready to charge forward. Tapping the screen, I growled. I should have known— every man lies. It’s never really six.
No light. “The universe hates me.”
My fingers had stiffened enough that they barely shoved the phone in my pocket. With no phone, who knows what I’d run into? I didn’t have time to waste. Much longer, and it’d stop feeling cold, and that’d be the beginning of the end. Of all the ways I expected to die, my vacation hadn’t made the list.
Tigers. That’s how I assumed it’d end. Thankfully, I hadn’t been to the zoo since middle school, and I had no plans to change that. The northern half of Maine ensured there’d never be a surprise tiger attack. It’s how I escaped death.
A wolf howled. “No. No. No,” I mumbled. “I said tiger, not wolf.” I continued stomping through the snow, which was steadily getting deeper as I trudged across the field. “One’s a cat. One’s a dog.” I’m sure the wolf would understand my logic.
The light continued growing brighter. Hope set in, and for a moment, it brought a warming sensation through my body. Hope crumbled as I realized hypothermia had taken hold. I didn’t have time to debate which animal had the pleasure of punching my dance card. Hypothermia had found its way through my wet jeans and up the legs of my thermal underwear. I just needed a little longer.
The light turned off.
The black of night didn’t deter me. If the light had gone off, somebody flipped the switch. Inside whatever house, garage, or shack I headed toward, there was life. I just had to hope they weren’t leaving. Though, what crazy person would go out in this?
