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Chapter 1
~~ Lorelai ~~
I stand on the edge of the road, the fresh snow pristine and glittering in the morning sun. The crisp air settles into the dark parts of me, leaving a glow in its path as I take in breath after breath. It smells... Clean. The quiet wraps its arms around me, shutting out the memories that were clogging my brain on the drive up through the night.
This. This is why I’ve been making my way up the coast. I needed this.
The clatter of sliding rocks pummels through my peace, and I hear my name being yelled up from where Scott is picking his way down to the frozen-over river he’d glimpsed when we detoured from the highway in search of coffee that wasn’t hours-old convenient-store slog. At least, I think it’s Scott. Maybe Sean. Sam? Something with an S. I roll my eyes at his interruption.
I could have gotten a bus ticket. Maybe I should have.
I was on the website last night trying to decide on a destination when he plopped down beside me at a greasy diner counter just outside of Jersey and bombarded me with conversation.
When I learned he was heading to Portland, it seemed like a grand adventure to tag along and save the ticket money. He only asked that I drive for a few hours so he could sleep on the way to his hometown for Spring Break. Brave of him, I guess, handing his keys off to a stranger, but I’ve been told I have a trustworthy face.
I shrug my backpack onto one shoulder and peer over the edge.
“C’mon,” he yells again. “You can see right through the ice!” His excitement is adorable, like a toddler who’s too curious to be careful.
I shake my head. My motorcycle boots were not meant for rock-climbing in their best days, which was long before I found them in a secondhand shop. Now, the leather is cracked, the broken strings only lace up halfway, and the soles are worn down in places. I’m going to have to spring for new ones soon.
“I can see fish in here,” he calls up to me.
Now that’s something I’ve never seen. There are no fish in beautiful frozen rivers where I come from. My only experience was swarms of flies around steaming puddles of stagnant water leaked from bad plumbing onto uneven pavement.
I push my arm through my other backpack strap and settle it over the bulk of my coat. I take careful steps down the rocks to the ground below. The snow puffs like powder where my boots land. I smile, knowing I’m the first person to leave prints in this snow. Except for Sam. Is it Sam? I hate that I can’t remember his name.
He’s bouncing back and forth, keeping warm while he waits. But it seems if he’s awake, he’s moving, so maybe it has nothing to do with staying warm. I venture over to where he’s pointing. One of my boots slides a bit and I realize we’re standing on the ice. Several feet onto the river.
A flash under the ice catches my attention. Silvery bodies moving slowly. My mouth drops open, and my lungs stop working. This may be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. How are they alive under there? I fumble my phone out of my coat pocket and take a couple photos with a silent hope they aren’t blurry.
There’s a slight popping sound under my boot and I step back, seeing a line where I’d been standing. I back up another step and another. Scott is backing up, too. “The ice isn’t very thick here,” he states the obvious. “Let’s head back up.”
We hurry back to the rocks, and he clambers up quickly. I follow, trying to carefully place my feet. The wind kisses my cheeks and I shiver.
A rock slips from under one boot and I hear it bouncing off the others on its way to the bottom. My boot slips along with it, and my knee crashes down hard. The rocks I land on start to slide, and I reach out. I think I hear Sean cry out for me from the top.
There’s nothing to grab onto, and I’m falling.
I'm acutely aware of every second clicking by.
I feel my hip grind into a rock, and then I’m on my back. I’m sliding, my back in a weird arc over my pack.
I try to turn, but my cheek scrapes a sharp edge.
I try digging my boot between the rocks to stop my slide, but my ankle rolls.
I’m thrown sideways and the rocks dig into the side of my face, my knee, my thigh.
When I finally stop, I'm facedown on the frozen ground. I turn my head and see Scott scrambling down to me.
“Oh, my God!” He reaches me much faster than it took for me to tumble to the bottom. “Are you okay?"
I feel his hands turn me onto my side. “Oh, shit! You’re not okay."
“Dude, your head is bleeding.” His voice is shaking.
I clasp his outstretched hand, and he pulls me halfway to standing before I crumple back to the ground.
