Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Austin
I dropped down on my bed and picked up my laptop, set to go back to studying. One more exam to go, scheduled on the last possible day before HU closed down for winter break. Just my luck. Most of my friends had been gone for days at that point, including all but one of my housemates.
I dove into my notes and started a read-through. When my phone pinged, I looked up to see that the sun had gone down while I was engrossed in my review. The text was from an unknown number.
I hope your dad told you to expect me. This is Randall Glenn. Looks like I’m to spend Christmas at yours. Martin said you're done with exams on Wednesday? Should we try to get on the road that day? Forecast calls for snow on Thursday, so probably best to get ahead of it if that’s ok?
Randall Glenn, the lonely friend. The stranger.
I recalled my parents talking about him when I was younger.
He had been Dad’s best friend and had introduced my parents to each other when he and my mom were assigned to do a project together for a class.
His name came up a lot since my parents attributed their relationship to him.
And every time they talked about him, they would wonder why Randall hadn’t been in contact after his move overseas.
I think that’s why I remembered them talking about him—because it always started out as a happy, fun memory but ended in forlorn confusion.
But time moved on, and “Randall from college” stories waned until I started college myself, which brought my parents right back to their university days.
I recalled that the phone call with my dad a few days earlier wasn’t the first time I’d heard about X-Files night.
I responded to the text, remembering my dad saying he would leave the logistics up to Mr. Glenn and me. I created a contact in my phone and returned his message.
The Excuse: Hey, thanks so much for doing this. My last exam is Wednesday morning. There's a bus that can get me to the Mt. Pheasant stop at 3:30 pm. Happy to help with the drive if you don’t mind the late start. Seems silly for you to drive north just to turn around and head south.
Mr. Glenn responded right away.
The Stranger: Sounds good. I’ll be able to get some work in before we head out. That will be perfect.
I spent the next few days buried in textbooks, lecture recordings, and notes, going so far as to shut off notifications on my phone so I wouldn't be interrupted in my studying. I woke up early Wednesday morning with enough time to scoop up my dirty laundry and shove a few clean items in a duffel bag so I’d have something decent to wear for the holiday.
I had done some Christmas shopping the weekend before at the university store and remembered at the last minute to take that shopping bag with me as well.
I texted my parents, then figured I should check in with my ride.
The Excuse: Off to my final exam. Double-checked the bus schedule and the weather. Hopefully the storm holds off.
The Stranger: I imagine a Hampstead Valley denizen wouldn’t be afraid of a little snow.
Denizen? My parents’ old friend was dropping those fancy words in his text. I made a point of speaking in full sentences and not emojis when I replied.
The Excuse: Ahh. You’d imagine wrong! The reason I need a ride home is because I’ve thus far refused to bring a vehicle up here. My offer to drive depends wholly on the weather holding off.
The Stranger: You do realize that whatever the atmosphere is doing is “the weather”?
The Excuse: See, that’s where you’re mistaken. You’re in Upstate New York now. “The weather”=[snow emoji].
I had failed already, resorting to a math symbol and a snowflake in my response. I had also used the phrase thus far, so bonus points for that. I was surprised when he kept the conversation going.
The Stranger: Not a big fan of the snow, then?
The Excuse: Ironically? Huge fan of the snow. I can’t believe I’m coming to Mt. Pheasant just to hop in a car and head to the beach. Some wicked slopes by you, but you must know that already.
The Stranger: Not a skier myself, but the view is rather nice.
The guy sent a picture, clearly taken through a window, of what I could only assume was Mount Pheasant. I could see two slopes slicing their way through the evergreens.
The Excuse: Wow. Killer view. Mt. Pheasant?
The Stranger: Yup.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, having my parents’ old friend nearby if he lived that close to one of the best ski resorts in the area.
The Excuse: Glad I know the bus schedule now. I might have to come visit in the new year to tackle those slopes.
I’d typed that last message on my way to my exam, this strange feeling of wanting to keep up the conversation with this guy compelling me to comment each time he did.
Only he didn’t respond to that last one, and I worried I had come off as presumptuous, when I’d only meant it as a joke.
I know my dad had said the guy would be alone if he weren’t coming to Jersey with me for the holidays.
He sounded like a lone wolf. Maybe he wasn’t the type to have guests over, especially not guests interested in skiing since he didn’t partake.
I felt pretty good after the exam, like maybe my intense studying had paid off.
I usually slung my backpack over one shoulder, but I put it on properly before leaving the lecture hall so I could hoist the duffle bag I had dragged with me over one shoulder and carry my bag of gifts.
Then I affixed my earbuds, put some music on, and walked to the bus stop near the north side of campus.
With only a few minutes until the bus was expected, I didn’t bother to sit on the bench, opting to pace back and forth to keep warm.
I was glad when the bus arrived on time, as the wind had started to pick up and the cold to really seep in despite my efforts.
I clambered onto the bus and got settled before pulling up my texting app.
The Excuse: OMW, but not to crash at your place and ski, unfortunately.
The Stranger: Why ski when you can spend five hours in a car to go to the beach …
The Stranger: … in December.
I was still laughing out loud, causing odd looks from the other people on the bus, when the next text came through: a long string of the same snowflake emoji I had sent him.
Okay, maybe the guy had a sense of humor; that would make for a much better drive home than listening to him talk about corporate mergers, or God forbid, the good old days with my parents.
Before I zoned out on the bus, I set a timer, not wanting to sleep through my stop.
There were only a few others on the bus, most of whom had gotten on with me at the campus stop.
Other college kids heading home for the winter break, I assumed, as we all had that burned-out look of exhaustion that came from exam week.
I was almost looking forward to a long drive with a virtual stranger.
No lecture notes, no looming exams, just five hours in a car?
Truck? Probably an SUV. Ooh, or maybe a midlife-crisis sports car, that would be fun.
There would probably be retro music involved, but I was okay with retro.
I put on a playlist from around the time my parents married and heaved a thankful sigh that my penultimate semester was complete, and I was headed home for the holidays.
I don’t think I had quite fallen asleep, but my eyes were shut and my thoughts elusive, so the alarm did startle me.
The bus was still moving, and I looked out the window, hoping to spot a traffic sign and confirm my location.
I was surprised to instead find big, heavy snowflakes cascading down outside.
“No, not till tomorrow,” I muttered out loud as I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket.
Snow was not an uncommon occurrence in Upstate New York, but the last I’d checked, it wasn’t supposed to start until Thursday, and Mr. Glenn and I had agreed to get out in front of it.
Maybe this was just flurries and not the big storm that has dominated the news for the past few days, I thought, even though the scene out the window contradicted me with each heavy flake that plummeted to the ground.
It was sticking to the median, and when I strained and checked the roadway next to me, it appeared to be clinging to the asphalt as well.
“Fuck,” I muttered out loud, and the guy across from me shot me a sympathetic smile. Maybe the storm had surprised us all.
I checked my GPS and could see that we would be at the Mount Pheasant bus stop shortly. I fired up my text app once again. First, a message to Mr. Glenn.
The Excuse: Should be to Mt. Ph in a few. What’s with the snow? Did I fall asleep on the bus, and it’s already Thursday? If so, I owe you an apology for being a day late.
The Stranger: Apology accepted. Pretty rude of the bus driver, though, not to wake you.
The Excuse: Right?
I laughed out loud, and the guy across the way acknowledged me again.
“Looks pretty shitty out there,” he said.
“Even for Hampstead!” I replied. “I thought we had another day.”
“Me too. I’d hoped to get home before the storm exploded. I’ve got three more hours.”
“Good luck, man. I’ve got five.”
My neighbor went back to nervously looking out the window, and I went back to texting. In the group chat I shared with my parents, I wrote:
Austin: Off the bus in 10. I’ll let you know when Mr. G and I are on the road.
Mom responded almost immediately.
Mom: It’s not snowing there yet, is it? The storm shifted, and it’s already started here.
Austin: Yup, the storm shifted right over this bus, but it’s not terrible yet. Looks like it just started to stick.
I didn’t think I was lying. I’d know better when the bus stopped.