Chapter 7 #2
Frustration was humming on my skin. I walk up to her, my face in hers. “You don’t think things through. You just jump.”
The smile from her face fades.
The fear in my chest is mixing with my unseen jealousy, and I can’t control it. Shit, I am spiraling. I never spiral.
“This is what I can’t stand. The impulsive, chaotic behavior!” I shout.
“Excuse me?” she mutters.
“This is why I made the rules. Rule number six: avoid being counterproductive.” My breath feels like it’s coming out short.
She blinks at me, like she didn’t hear me right. “Moments like this, Noelle. I deem them counterproductive.”
“You deem them?” Tillie whispers.
Roman stop. My brain is screaming at me, but my emotions are out of control. I’m always in control, but one woman falls down a slope, and I am fucking unraveling. Is it fear? Fear of her hurting herself on my watch?
“You don’t take anything seriously. You just create moments where someone has to fix it for you.”
She pulls back a little, like that one hurt. Her eyes become guarded, and her spine straightens.
Noelle doesn’t scream; she just looks wounded.
“Wow.” She laughs. “Well, it’s good to know what you really think about me.”
Shit, I went too far.
“Noelle.”
She gives me a tight smile. “I am fine.”
Bending, she unclips her shoes and comes out of the skis.
Tillie steps to her. “Let me come with you.”
“No, I need a minute.”
She begins to walk toward the trees.
“Noelle, I don’t think you should—” I cut off when she gives me a deadly side-eye.
Noelle continues walking. She doesn’t storm off or create a scene; she just leaves.
NOELLE
What the hell is his problem? This morning, my baby brother called, and since then, Roman has been acting like a jackass.
I lift my leg higher as it’s becoming hard to walk in the snow. You don’t see me acting like a fool after Tessa’s woe-is-me-I-am-a-damsel-in-distress routine.
I watched him as he fixed her shoe and smiled up at her ass. Did I act like a whole jackass? No, despite me wanting to go and ram the shoe up her ass.
Maybe I am getting my feelings too involved. It’s not like he is in a relationship with me. I should head back and talk to Roman. We need to set some boundaries.
The snowflake drops gently on my nose. I raise my palm up to catch more snowflakes.
“It’s snowing,” I whisper while admiring the sky as snowflakes descend around me.
Snow is so beautiful and yet brutal. I should head back. Then I look around. All the trees look the same. How far did I venture? And why wasn’t I paying attention?
Looking back, I can’t see my tracks. Girl, which direction did you come from?
“Left!” I shout. I was wrong; left was nowhere near the lodge. Just more majestic trees, dusted with snow.
The snow was coming down fast.
“Hello!” I scream. No answer.
I take my cellphone out. Of course there are no bars out here. It’s so typical. I roll my eyes.
If it wasn’t left, then I should go right. I pull my beanie down over my ears.
“Hello!” I shout again. No one answers, and then I feel it. A dark dread entering my stomach.
No one is here. Does this forest have wolves? Or bears? No bears should be hibernating, right? “Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my. At least there are no tigers or lions…just bears,” I say out loud, snickering at my silliness.
I continue walking to God knows where.
My stomach twists, and I stop because I wanna pee. I chortle when I think about my predicament.
I can see it now. “News at 6: Rum Heiress Found on Ice.” Or “Spirit Heiress Found Dead. She Was Frozen, Not Stirred.”
If my granny could see me now, she would say, “But yah is a jackass. You from the Caribbean, and you want to go frolicking in de snow.”
The movies make snow look so pretty and romantic. They forget to mention the subtle cold breeze that comes with it. Each time the air moves around me, I tighten my arms.
At least I am wearing my hot pink insulated suit. If I die, they can see my ass from a distance.
“It’s too cold for these damn shenanigans,” I mumble.
I feel like I am being watched. Please, God, I don’t want to die by the jaws of a wolf. Forget the wolf, what about a serial killer? I have seen enough true crime shows; people are crazy. The wind picks up, and the snow descends faster.
I can feel eyes on me. Maybe it’s paranoia. Right? Nothing lives out here.
My foot connects with something that feels like a root, and I fall face first into the snow. I roll over and huff. This is Roman’s fault. If he were nicer, I wouldn’t be lost in this Narnia-looking forest.
I push up slowly, looking at my gloved hands. I see a small tear in the glove, and a piece of its grey fluff falls to the ground.
“Pappa.” I spit out the pieces of snow. Standing, I dust the snow off my body.
I press my hand against the trunk of the nearest tree.
“It can’t get any worse than this,” I mumble. God has a beautiful sense of humor because a heavy plop of snow from the branches above me falls heavily on my head, soaking my beanie. Small pieces of ice slip down my neck, racing down my back.
“Shiiit!” I scream, grabbing my beanie and dancing around, trying to get the snow out of my clothing.
Stopping, I try to catch my breath. I really need to get out of here. It’s beginning to get dark. Trudging through the snow, I sing softly to myself. “Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me because the Bible told me so.”
The swirling winds and snow are making it difficult to see, but in the distance, I see a small brown structure. Is that a shed? Or a cabin?
Maybe someone is there, and they can call for help. A zing of hope moves through me as I hustle over to the small cabin.
The cabin settles deep into the treelined forest. It’s a small weathered box with a single window.
As I walk closer, I see the steepled roof covered in snow and the small icicles hanging like sharp teeth at the end of the roof.
I walk to the door. It’s made of pine, with large iron hinges and a small wooden bird carved from wood hanging on a nail.
To the left of me, piled in a pyramid, is chopped wood and an empty tin bucket and a shovel.
The wood looks dull and grey, like it’s been out here for a while.
I tiptoe and peek inside. No one is here.
I still knock out of courtesy. “Hello? Anyone home?”
My hand touches the doorknob, and for a second, I pray that it opens because I don’t want to break a window.
The knob moves as I push the door open, only to reveal one room.
“Hello?” I step inside and sigh as I see no signs of life.
I close the door behind me, and leaning on it, I exhale. The air from my breath turns white. It’s cold in here too.
The room is narrow. Under the single window there is a small table with a can of what looks like sardines and an unopened box of saltines.
An old lantern sits in the middle of the table, covered in ash and unlit.
And finally, there’s a large matchbox. A chair sits under it.
There is a wooden bed against the other side of the wall.
It looks hand-carved. The thin mattress is covered by an old white sheet with a grey scratchy-looking blanket at the end.
One lumpy flat pillow sits in the middle of it.
At the foot of the bed sits an old trunk with a thick corded rope sitting on it.
“At least the place is clean,” I say, moving to the small cupboard. Opening it, I see bottles of water, more sardines and saltines, duct tape, a can of beans, a plate, a spoon, and a cup.
“I am 100% sure a man lives here, and he may be psycho,” I mumble, closing the cupboard.
Well, at least I won’t die of hunger. Finally, at the far right, I see a small cast-iron wood-burning fireplace, and to the side, a small stash of wood and a bucket with what looks like ash.
Okay. I have wood, food, and fire. I can live.
There is a soft tapping outside of the door.
I open the door, only to see the small carved bird, moving in the wind.
I look across to the shovel, and I decide that for safety, I should bring that inside with me.
It’s not going to be so bad. The cabin is cold, dark, and silent, but I have food and shelter. I can live through this.
ROMAN
I make it back to the lodge in record time. Unease settles in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t have let her go out there on her own.
Grabbing a cocoa, I move closer to the main fireplace in the sitting area of the lodge. There is a group of old women watching The Golden Girls. I move closer to them, watching the red column that appears at the bottom of the screen. A pending blizzard was coming into the area.
Noelle is out there. Wait, why do I care? She walked away on her own. I rub my forehead.
Shit. I place the cocoa down and rush outside just in time to see Tillie and the two instructors walk off the lift.
“Where is she?” I ask, my eyes darting all over the grounds. All I see are people hustling to get inside.
“I don’t know; we went down another slope. I thought you would go after her,” Tillie says.
My throat goes dry. This was all my fault.
“Is she out there by her fucking self, Roman?” Tillie asks, pointing toward the slopes.
“Yes, there is no place for her to take shelter.” My eyes dart to a woman in pink, but it isn’t Noelle.
“Maybe she is at the groundskeeper’s cabin. That’s the only place she can take shelter up there.”
I nod.
“Wait, let me call 911 or security, and they can help you.” Tillie moves to go inside.
I ignore Tillie and rush to the chair lift. The attendant stops me. “We are not allowing anyone on the slopes at the moment, sir.”
“I need to go up to slope three.” I watch as a lift chair passes by me.
“Sir, I can’t.”
I look down at the attendant’s name tag. “Doug, my father and I are co-owners of this resort. His daughter-in-law is stuck out there. Get me a goddamn chair lift.”
Dough nods, and within seconds, a chair is in front of me.
“Give me your flashlight.” I put my palm out as I wait for the attendant.