8. Chapter 8

When I wake up, the cabin is steeped in shadows and darkness lurks around the edges of the room. Either I slept all day or the storm has worsened. I check the fireplace, which is still burning as though it’s only been a few hours. I’ll have to look outside. There’s a giant window that runs two stories with the heavy curtains decadently descending from the ceiling to the floor. When I pull back a fold to peek out the streak-free perfect window, I’m disappointed to not only find two feet of snow, but the sun is setting on the west side of the house. Rich colors splash in through the opening I created, I rub my eyes, dropping the curtain back in place to stretch. The breakup zapped more of my energy than I realized. Or maybe I finally feel safe and relaxed enough to sleep. My stomach rumbles loudly and I check the time on my phone. It says I have a missed call from my dad and a voicemail. I also have five missed calls from Tyler and over fifty text messages. I decide the voicemail is the lesser of the two evils here, opting to handle it first. My stomach protests the choice loudly just as I realize it’s five o’clock and I skipped a meal. I wonder how bad the snow is in the driveway. I force myself to walk to the front of the house, and when I open the door, I am pleasantly surprised to see the house lit up with Christmas lights, as if they are on some sort of timer. The twinkling red and green lights glow against the white fluffy snow continuing to fall from the sky, relentlessly covering the mountain. The driveway and front steps look like they were cleared at some point today because there’s only about five inches piled up on them. I’m shocked I slept through someone clearing the driveway and front porch. It’s actually a little terrifying. A shiver floods my body and I rub my arms.

It’s definitely been coming down heavy the entire time I’ve been sleeping. I’m so tired I really don’t feel like cooking, even though I asked them to stock the kitchen. Something not cooked by me sounds amazing. Tyler and I used to split the cooking, and doing it solo has been hard to get used to. I should probably be responsible and not make anyone venture out in this weather, but if one of the food places in town happened to be open— it would mean it was safe, right? Maybe I can find something online. I wander back to the kitchen, catching sight of all the snow on the deck through the French doors. I don’t even think I can open them. The view is beautiful though. The sun is setting below the tree line of the forest. Snowflakes fall from the sky heavy and fast. Around me, in every direction, the white untouched snow flows endlessly. There’s nowhere that remains untouched. It reminds me how alone I am up here. The snow is doing a great job of isolating me from the rest of the world, which is exactly what I wanted to do. My stomach rumbles again and I tear myself away from the view, turning and eyeballing the muffins before remembering how heavy of a meal they were. I’m sure there’s more than enough food here that it would be easy to whip up something delicious for myself. The cupboard search begins once more, as I take stock of everything. I’m two cupboards deep when I notice the takeout menus in the wooden box next to the coffeemaker. Even my uncle doesn’t want me to cook tonight. I smile, thinking of him. What’s the harm in looking? It’s strange I didn’t notice these earlier when I was making coffee. It doesn’t surprise me, though, given how hard I crashed. I pull out the menus and start sifting through them. When I find the pizza one, I punch in the numbers and wait for the phone to ring. Greasy, cheesy pizza sounds delicious and they usually deliver. The phone rings and I cross my fingers. Hopefully, they will deliver to this address. After the third ring, someone finally picks up.

“Y’ello, Mountain Pies, this is Tom. Delivery or pickup tonight?”

“Delivery,” I stammer.

“Alright, it’s going to be about ninety minutes for delivery right now,” he responds.

“Ok,” I answer. “Can I get a medium cheese pizza, garlic knots, and a Caesar salad, please?” I reply.

“Sounds good. Let me get your phone number in case we can’t make it to your address, miss,” he says.

I provide him the details and confirm I have enough cash for when he arrives. My stomach rumbles. An hour and a half is such a long time to wait. Knowing my luck, the snow will make it even longer and I’m starving. Maybe there’s some fresh fruit in the fridge. I could use the natural sugar boost. As I reach to open it, I notice the card from earlier is hanging from a magnet. Strange, I didn’t leave you here. I pull the card down and turn it over in my hands to inspect it. I glance around the room. Everything looks normal. The doors are all locked, and no one else is here. Clearly, I had to be the one to hang it up. I just don’t remember doing it. My subconscious nags at me. I return it to the fridge, then pull the door open. Inside the fridge is a bin full of fresh apples, oranges, and pears. I grab an orange and start to peel it while walking back to the living room to check on the fire. I’ve burned through a fair amount of wood. Not enough to be concerned and I’m still confused about how that fire from earlier lasted all day. I must have slept for at least eight hours. Better to be thankful than to question things and freak myself out. Even if the fire hadn’t lasted, I have regular heat. It’s got to be at least 70 degrees in here now. I glance at the dwindling fire, trying to decide if I want to throw another log on. Ultimately, there’s no reason not to. I slept all day, which means tonight will likely be a late night. I worry my lip for a few minutes, anxiously trying to decide if I want to commit to waiting for it to burn out. Well, I guess I could always just drizzle water and put it out, if it comes down to it. I grab three small pieces from the pile of wood and strategically build a much smaller fire, using the embers to slowly heat the new pieces. Eventually, they will get hot enough to ignite from one of the logs that’s burning out. I poke at the embers one more time before deciding to wander around and pick out a bedroom for the night. Maybe I can unpack while I wait.

I traipse down the hallway, slurping my orange into my mouth. As the juice explodes in my mouth with a satisfying splash. There are two distinct sides to the house with the kitchen and giant living room, as well as the laundry and bathroom in the center. Upstairs used to have a loft and more rooms. I sneak down the hallway on my right in search of adventure, or maybe just a bed to sleep in tonight. The sectional wasn’t bad, but a bed sounds much better for night number two. I stumble upon a small guest bedroom first. It’s at the front of the house with an average bathroom attached. The space is crisp and cozy. It’s a nice guest bedroom, but I really want the master bedroom experience. I continue down the hall to a spacious bonus room. Against one wall is a fully stocked bar, and on an opposite wall are massive bookcases,filled with books and knick-knacks. I smile to myself, getting lost in a memory from summers with my uncle. He used to love collecting treasures to add to his study. I wonder how many I can find from my childhood,though this might be an adventure for tomorrow. There’s even a built-in cozy reading corner with one of those large bean bags. A small lounging sofa, an oversized desk, and a piano are also neatly placed throughout. The room opens up to a glass enclosed sunroom. I am so tempted to step inside when I see there’s another fireplace and so many seating options with blankets and big, fluffy pillows. This room is definitely going on my list tomorrow. I’ve decided that after I build my snowman, I can warm up in here with read a good book. Skimming the shelves is going to be so fun. It looks like there’s another set of doors leading out onto the back patio. I triple-check they are locked, all kinds of paranoid still. I chose to be alone, so I better get over whatever my brain has me freaking out over. With a sigh, I walk out of the room, deciding to make it a big part of my day tomorrow. I’m looking forward to something, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of excitement and happiness in my broken heart.

There’s a small, joyful bounce in my steps as I take my time retracing my way to the study. My exploring leads me to the other side of the cabin as I search for the main bedroom, beginning to plan out every detail in my mind. This hallway is much shorter, and I don’t have time to think about things. At the end of the hallway is a set of double doors. This must be it. I bite my lip and push open both doors. When I step inside, my breath hitches. The main bedroom is fucking beautiful. There’s a sitting area with a third fireplace. This one is outlined in the same floor-to-ceiling style and the brick is the same cracked pepper color as the living room. Once again, a stark contrast against the walnut-stained mantel and creamy white-gray walls. Heavy curtains matching the ones in the living room hide the giant windows in here, too. I spin around slowly, stopping only because my mouth drops open and my eyes bulge at the sight of the massive king-size bed. There’s a giant light gray tufted headboard. The bed is slightly raised off the ground, not too high and not too low. I run my hands over the fluffy black feather-stuffed duvet and I have to fight the urge to fall into it. If my body touches the bed, I’m afraid I’ll never get out. Across the bottom is another chunky-knit charcoal gray blanket, encouraging me to get lost in the cover. I squeal, not caring no one else can hear my eccentric celebration. I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight.

“What the fuck?” I hiss, snapping out of whatever you would call daydreaming about sleeping in a bed. My eyes scan the neat stack of my luggage and suitcases next to the closet door.

What the fuck is going on? I’m completely and utterly confused. I don’t remember unpacking, but then again, I also didn’t plan to sleep for an entire day. Maybe I did unpack and I just don’t remember from exhaustion. This feels insane, like I’m going crazy. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m starting to question if I am mentally stable enough to be alone like this... It definitely feels like I am losing my mind. Maybe I should just journal this all really quickly so if it keeps happening I can call Mom. So you can call Mom and then what? I taunt myself. Ask her to come up here? The roads are closed. Fuck. The feelings of doubt are creeping in. I try to shake off the nervous feeling, hoping to avoid a panic attack, but I can already feel my heart thudding in my chest, beating rapidly as I take slow, steady breaths. This is just supposed to be a nice, much needed vacation. What does mom always say about water helping to relax? Maybe a shower will help me calm down, and I could probably use one. Even if it is just some random delivery person—I pause to smell my armpits. I didn’t put deodorant on to sleep today, so I can one hundred percent benefit from freshening up. I check the time on my phone. There’s still at least another thirty minutes before the pizza arrives.