2. Lourdez
TWO
Lourdez
F aulty wiper blades struggle to shift the snow from my windshield. Squinting to see the road ahead, I continue, ignoring the rattling sound coming from my engine.
Ten miles down, one-hundred and sixty-two to go.
I close my eyes, and a silent prayer slips out.
“Please.” I need to make this trip. “We can make it, baby.” My efforts to encourage my car are inspirational, I’m sure.
My beat-up old Volvo disagrees, wheezing on with encouragement for me to turn around.
But then I’ll never see Colten again. Never hear his voice.
Turning on the radio, warnings for severe weather ring out loudly. Those more sensible—which is apparently everyone on this side of Oregon—stayed at home today.
The road ahead is empty of anything but the blanket of white snow that hides the danger beneath.
The car drags to the left, and my grip tightens on the wheel. Fear holds me just as tightly.
Turning the wheel spins my car and sets me in the other direction.
Something goes pop as I slam my foot down on the brake.
A scream leaves me, and my body tenses as the car drifts through the snow and hits the barrier at the edge of the road.
My phone slips from its position on the dash, but the navigation app continues giving directions the car can no longer follow.
“Make a U-turn when possible.”
Impossible . I breathe out a stuttering breath.
“What the fuck?” The view in the mirror shows nothing but the tire tracks that led me to my current position.
Stretching down into the passenger footwell, I reach for where my phone had fallen on impact.
Shaking fingers unlock the screen and flick through contacts until I land on Amelie’s number.
Two rings, and she answers. “Hello. You on the road?”
“I’m off the road. Kinda.”
“What do you mean? You’re there already?”
“No. My car literally skidded off the road. Do you think you could come and get me?”
“I can’t. I’m working until five.”
“Shit. Okay. I’ll see if any taxis are running. If not, can you come and get me when you’re done? I’m only ten miles away.”
“Do you have a coat?”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna walk back in the snow.”
“No, of course. I just don’t want you to be cold while you wait. What even happened?”
“I don’t know. There were noises?—”
“There’s always noises, Lourdez.”
“Worse than usual, and then it kinda dragged me to the side and skidded, and now I’m not even on the road, I don’t think. I’m kinda wedged down some edge against a barrier.”
“Are there any cars around? Maybe you can get a tow?”
“Literally no one. I haven’t passed a single vehicle.”
“The weather is too bad.”
“Yeah, and it’s getting much worse.” The snowflakes fall on the other side of the glass, bigger than they were only seconds ago. “I shoulda just flown.”
“Well, there’s no point in dwelling on that now.”
“You’re right. Anyway, it’s fine. Go back to work. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”
“Yeah, and she’s giving me evil looks, as usual.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Stay in the car, and if I can get off early, I will. We have no clients getting to this salon today. So, there is really no point in me being here if they can’t get in. I’ll see what I can do and call you. Let me know if you get a ride before you hear from me.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Three different taxi services laugh down the line before I give up and relax in my seat. The car is getting cold. I’d made the mistake of turning off the ignition, and now the vehicle that’s definitely ready for Old Man Johnson’s yard refuses to start.
I blow out a puff of smoke that makes me look like an incompetent dragon. Cold hands scroll through posts on social media. I freeze on a photo of Colten with three guys I remember from high school and another photo with his mom and dad.
Colten was always so handsome. He looks so different without his hair; without the muscles he’d built through his teens.
It hurts my heart that I might not get to see him ever again. That I might not make it there. The tears feel so much colder in this car than they did at home last night, and more of them come as I stare at the images on the screen.
Life really was unfair.
I tuck my phone away, unable to look at him anymore, and I close my eyes to try and stop the cold tears from attacking my cheeks.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I open my eyes to the sound of a car horn and a husky voice that asks, “Do you need some help?”
I rush from my car, screeching out, “Oh, my god, yes!”
I grab my purse from the passenger seat, rush from the car without a second thought, and pop from one vehicle to another.
Thank God and whoever it is that turns out to be my savior.