3. Rune
Chapter 3
Rune
I f I keep moving, I won’t have time to break down inconsolable. If I keep moving, I’ll find the proverbial other door that’s supposed to open when the one in front of me closes.
That's what I keep telling myself as I hurry to pack my bags. Warm sweaters and wool socks, here we go.
My weather app tells me that winter in northern Minnesota is drastically different than winter here in Chicago. Like a solid forty degree difference, plus snow. Aunt Mairi insists she has extra snow gear for me to wear, should I want to spend time outside. And I do want that. I need the healing power of Nature in my life.
I have an idyllic idea forming in my mind of what I want this trip to be: quiet and grounding. I want to get back to the basics and shit like that. I’ve spent too much time in big cities and not enough time doing real human things.
And just in case I have energy to work on some new illustrations, I carefully pack my drawing tablet alongside Crimson and Roses in a little plastic bag. Hopefully nothing will jostle it too badly.
Even though Aunt Mairi won't be home for two more days, I decide to make the drive up on Wednesday, departing long before sunrise. I am eager for a change of scenery…and Danielle has been hovering since I told her the news. It’s making me feel nervous.
“Be safe, and text me when you get there,” Danielle makes me promise, yawning against the early hour. The sun isn't even up yet, but I'd rather drive for a few dark hours in the morning instead of at night.
“You got it, mother hen.” As is tradition, I flash my middle finger at her in lieu of a wave. She does the same to me. It feels almost normal.
Despite everything, the tiniest spark of excitement flickers somewhere deep in my soul as I merge onto the interstate. I haven’t been outside of Chicago in forever, and I probably do need some perspective to help me through this.
My phone blares loudly through the bluetooth speaker on the seat next to me, providing a background score of nostalgic hits from high school days. Moments like this, it’s a little easier to tell myself that that jobs come and go, that relationships aren’t meant to last forever. I remind myself that men are stupid and so is Diana. But nothing can keep me from achieving what I want in life…whenever I discover what that is. For the next week, I’m going to put it all in my rearview mirror (figuratively and literally) and move on.
Is my new, positive mindset too good to last?
Of course it is.
Four hours into the drive, somewhere in Wisconsin, the oil light goes on in the dashboard. It’s been doing that at increasingly frequent intervals over the past few months, which is probably a bad sign. I pull over at the next gas station to buy a quart of oil to top it off.
Might as well get some food for myself, while I’m at it. I wander into the little pizza shop attached to the convenience store to get an early lunch. There aren’t a lot of people here, excepting a trio of truckers who are loudly debating some conspiracy theory at the only clean table in the place. Guess I’ll eat in my car.
While I wait for the tired worker to heat up my personal pan pizza, I pull out my phone and force myself to reply to the texts that have been piling up from my coworkers over the past few days….or ex-coworkers, I suppose.
Naomi: Girl are you ok?
Paul: Well, shit. Sorry.
Meghan: FUCKING CRAIG
Meghan: I know you’re processing and shit but text me please? I’m worried about you.
Paul: Can you text Megs back? She thinks you’re dead or dying. Won’t listen to reason.
Paul: Srsly. Txt her back. I can’t handle her angst.
Paul: Wait, u are ok, right?
Meghan: I’m going to call the police to do a wellness check on you…
The last text from Meghan was from this morning. Knowing her, she would definitely do it, too. My fingers tap out replies like it’s my job.
Reply to Meghan: I’m fine. Going to visit my aunt in Minnesota. Still in shock. Did anyone else get fired after I left?
Reply to Paul: K I texted her. Was just thinking and busy, not dying. Thanks for the concern.
Reply to Naomi: I’m doing ok. Thanks.
There. I feel a little guilty that it’s taken me so long to reply, but I haven’t exactly been in full possession of my mental faculties for the past couple of days. As I get back into my car, my phone lights up with another text.
Danielle: Don’t forget to watch the weather. Text me when you get there. I miss you already.
I open the weather app and scroll down until I can make sense of the giant cloud of red spanning the entire Midwest.
Well, shit.
Looks like we’re in for a very intense winter storm.
The bald tires and worn brakes on my car are awful on a good day. In an actual snowstorm, I’m not sure I can keep the car on the road, let alone moving in the right direction.
But there’s nowhere to go except onward. Maybe I can beat the snowstorm. The weather forecasters are rarely accurate, anyway. Grimly, I settle in for the journey. The clouds darken with every passing minute, but for the next three hours, the roads remain clear.
The moment I reach the Minnesota border, however, my luck fails me. Real flurries fall from the sky as I navigate the steep hills of Duluth. It’s coming down so fast that I wonder if I should stop at one of the nearby hotels for the night. Probably…but it would take up an outrageous percentage of my final paycheck and I still have to make a payment for my college loans this month. And every month after for the next decade or two.
So I guess that means I keep driving. I’ll just drive slow, I promise myself.
Half an hour later, the gentle flurries turn into a whirling white madness that makes it nearly impossible to see anything besides the faint glow of the tail lights of the vehicle in front of me. I count three cars that have gone into the ditch. The minutes creep by, then an hour, then two.
It’s dark and the clock reads five; I would be at Aunt Mairi’s house already if I was driving at a normal pace. But here I am, creeping along at 45 mph down a two-lane highway. My phone flickers in and out of service, leaving me no way of knowing how close I am to my actual destination.
Despite my maddeningly slow speed, I catch up to another vehicle that’s driving along at a literal snail’s pace. Unbelievable. I don’t dare try to pass them. Not with the way the snow is piling up on this windy little road, and especially not with all these damn turns.
The road veers sharply to the right and the brake lights flash frantically in front of me. I watch, horrified, as the car goes into a dramatic fishtail.
I slam my own brakes on instinct, flipping the steering wheel to try to avoid colliding into the car in front of me as they wildly fluctuate from side to side on the road. I realize too late that I’ve over-corrected and my car spins sideways. It still won’t be enough to avoid hitting the vehicle in front of me.
Shit, shit, shit.
Just before we collide, the car in front magically straightens out.
I do not.
With one last attempt to flip the steering wheel, my car spins in a complete circle and slides off the road into a steep, snow-filled ditch with a hard stop and a gut-wrenching crunch at the bottom.
The other car vanishes into the snow as it continues on its journey.