In the Middle of Nowhere

by Julie Ann Knudsen

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. My mom didn’t come and check on me or offer me anything to eat for dinner. I couldn’t have eaten anyway. I was too upset.

  At one point I heard the front door close. I snuck down to my mother’s bedroom and looked out her window. I watched as Brian climbed into his car and drove off. He almost didn’t make it down the road as the snow was really piling up outside. I was so thankful that he wasn’t stuck at our house overnight.

  I kept myself busy by working on my project and going onto MyWeb. At one point Michael called, but we didn’t chat too long. He didn’t sound good on the other end and coughed so much, he really couldn’t talk. He just wanted to know that James and I made it home safely. I told him we did even though we were drenched and freezing when we finally did.

  Before we hung up he asked me, “Did you read my note yet?”

  “Uh, not yet,” I said. I felt badly that I hadn’t, but I explained to him how it ended up in the dryer and how I didn’t want to go and get it while my mother was still downstairs.

  “I’m gonna wait until my mom goes to bed. Then I’ll find it.”

  “Sounds good,” he managed before another coughing fit. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  After we hung up, I quietly opened my bedroom door and looked down the hallway. I could see light seeping from under my mother’s bedroom door and knew then that she was in there. I needed to slowly and stealthily creep past her door, down the stairs and into the laundry room so I could retrieve the infamous note.

  I tiptoed as best I could and didn’t make a sound, carefully avoiding the creaking floorboards. I made my way downstairs and saw that it was completely dark. I let the streetlights from outside guide me. I went into the kitchen and jumped back when I saw two little round balls glowing back at me. It was only my cat and her eyes as she sat curled up in a ball on the kitchen chair.

  I walked by her and gave her a gentle stroke. I finally reached the laundry room and quietly opened the dryer. It was already cold inside the house and when I opened the dryer door, a rush of colder air welcomed me. I found my jacket and grabbed it. I reached inside my interior pocket and found the note. I took it out and examined it before I dared open it. It didn’t seem to be ruined from being inside my wet coat or the hot dryer.

  What could it possibly say that would freak me out? There was only one way to know. I unfolded it and read:

  The beginning of forever starts right here,

  So take my hand and walk with me, dear.

  Let’s find our way down a path toward love,

  And fulfill all that you are dreaming of.

  There it was again. The “L” word. No wonder Michael told me not to freak out. He saw how I reacted when we were in the deli when he merely said the word.

  I rubbed the paper between my fingers and looked outside. I watched as the snow fell serenely from the sky and glistened beautifully when it finally settled underneath the glowing streetlights. The whiteness of it was so pure and undisturbed and seemed to mimic how I was feeling inside. I knew in that moment that Michael’s feelings for me were honest and I felt at peace with it for the very first time.

  I held the wrinkled piece of paper to my chest and headed back upstairs to the warmth of my room, to the warmth of my bed, to the warmth I felt in my heart because of a romantic boy and my first-ever love letter.

  • • •

  I woke up to someone forcefully nudging me awake. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and found my mother standing over me, still wearing her pajamas.

  “Go back to sleep, Willow. I turned off your alarm. Church is cancelled because of the storm,” she said. My mom was on a new kick to get us all to go back to church because of her upcoming nuptial.

  “Okay,” I said before I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t fall back asleep. I was frustrated because it was only seven o’clock. I lay there and decided what to do. I could go downstairs and watch TV or I could stay in my warm bed and read.

  I chose to stay in bed and read a new novel I had just bought. I read for about an hour and started to doze off when my cell phone beeped alerting me to a new text. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and read: “Mornin’ sunshine. You up?”

  It was from Michael.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I texted back. “How you feeling?”

  “Not so good. Didn’t sleep much.”

  “Why?”

  “Feeling a little bit under the stormy weather. Do you think school will be cancelled tomorrow?”

  “Probably.”

  “You psyched?”

  “Not really. I’ll be totally bored all day.”

  “Did you get in trouble with your mom?”

  “Yup. I’m basically grounded for life.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Sure does.”

  “Did you read my note, yet?”

  I hesitated before texting back. I had hoped he wouldn’t ask me anything about the note. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “It was nice,” I replied. I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to say more, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing it over a text message. Even though I knew Michael really meant what he said and I was finally okay with it, I would rather talk about it in person, but because of my punishment, I wouldn’t be seeing Michael or anyone else outside of school for a very long time.

  It took a while for Michael to text back and when he did it was simply, “Oh.”

  “I gotta figure out a way to be able to get together with you before the end of the stupid school year.” I thought this message would let him know that I wanted to see him.

  “Once I’m feeling better, maybe I can meet up with you at school.”

  “Sounds good, but make sure you’re better first.”

  “I will. I’m gonna go and try to get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” I texted back.

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I tossed my phone to the end of the bed and reread the note. Part of me felt badly, but what did Michael expect me to say to him? That I loved him? I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what love was. I think I loved him, but I didn’t want to text him my feelings and I didn’t want to say it to him if he didn’t feel it, too. He never did come out and tell me he loved me. It was one thing to write about love, but another to say it, face to face, to someone else. Granted he told me that he wanted my love when we were at the deli, but he never came out and said that he actually “loved me.”

  Plus, how much did I really know about Michael? He was sick with CF, lived in Portland and had a younger brother, a mother, father and a dog. Not much else really. And how was I to get to know him when we were both homebound; him because of his disease and me because of my own stupidity?

  All of a sudden I felt tired and overwhelmed. I threw my book onto the floor, wrapped my comforter tightly around myself and tried to get comfortable. I wanted to go back to sleep and dream a dream that would provide me with the answers to all of life’s questions. Very quickly I knew that this was completely unrealistic and decided to settle for just a few hours of peaceful, uninterrupted slumber.

  • • •

  I finally woke up and glanced at my alarm clock. It was noon and I was instantly ravenous. I heard noise coming from the kitchen and could hear my mom and brother talking in whispered voices.

  I got dressed and headed downstairs. My mom and James were in the kitchen. My mom had made French toast and offered me some.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Did you sleep in, Willow? James and I tried to be quiet so you could.”

  I nodded. “At first I wasn’t able to go back to sleep, but finally did.”

  James pointed out the kitchen window and spoke with his mouth full of food. “Did you see all the snow?”

  I hadn’t and walked over to the window and looked out. I was stunned. I had never seen so much snow before. Ever. I t
urned to my mom. “How much fell during the night?”

  “The TV weatherman said over three feet and we’re close to breaking a record. Thank goodness I had milk, bread and eggs for you kids.”

  My mom served me two thick pieces of French toast and seemed to be in a rather good mood considering the night before. I was afraid she would yell at me for being so rude to Brian. I didn’t care. It was the truth. He wasn’t my dad and never would be.

  I sat down, slathered butter and syrup on top of my food and gobbled up the delicious breakfast.

  “Is there anymore?” James asked.

  “Sorry dear, you ate it all,” my mom answered. She put the frying pan into the sink to let it soak. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower. You two please finish cleaning up.”

  She brushed past me, then stopped and backed up. She looked me straight in the eyes and pointed to me. “You and I will be having a serious talk later.”

  I put my head down and continued to chew. I still had one more piece of French toast on my plate, but suddenly lost my appetite. I slid my plate over to James.

  “Here. You can have it.”

  I should have known better that the yummy breakfast and cheery greeting from my mother would come at a price.

  • • •

  After James and I cleaned up the kitchen, I spent the rest of the day in my room. Every now and then I would look out my bedroom window and marvel at the amount of snow that had fallen and continued to tumble from the sky. It was now official. The snowfall had broken all records in Pike’s Island’s history. We were in the midst of a nor’easter, or what I liked to call a blizzard.

  I finished my project, hopped on MyWeb and texted Michael. He didn’t text me back right away, which was unusual, but maybe he was still sleeping, I figured.

  I was afraid to go back downstairs. I didn’t want to see my mother and hoped I could avoid the “talk” she wanted to have with me. Maybe if I stayed in my room long enough, she’d forget about it altogether. I was even willing to forgo food and drink for days and become a heap of skeletal remains so I could avoid talking to her.

  I checked the time. It had been a couple of hours since I last texted Michael, so I did again. “Are you still sleeping, Mr. Sleepy Head?”

  No response.

  Worried, I checked out his MyWeb page, but didn’t notice any new entries. The only thing he had changed recently was the quote under his profile picture. It said: “The name of a tree, the beauty of a rainbow, and the soul of an angel.” I knew that he meant it for me and I smiled when I read it.

  I wondered if he was mad at me for not saying more about the poem earlier. At least I told him that I wanted to see him. When we finally did meet up, I would make a point to talk to him about the note. Maybe I’d even call him and discuss it later tonight, but definitely not now over a text message.

  I heard light footsteps and then a knock on my door.

  I gulped. “Come in.”

  It was James. “Mom said come down now if you want dinner.”

  I panicked and quickly rubbed my belly. “Tell her my stomach really hurts, but maybe in a little while.”

  “Kay,” he said before closing the door.

  That was a close one, I thought, but, realistically, how long was I going to be able to avoid being in the same room with my mother? I had to see her eventually, especially since we were stuck in the same house together in the middle of a huge snowstorm. Plus, I was getting kinda hungry.

  Then I remembered I had some granola bars in my top dresser drawer. I got up too see how many. I counted seven. I figured I could have one tonight for dinner and two more each day thereafter. I could sneak into the bathroom for water or carefully open my bedroom window and scoop some snow off the ledge and slowly let it melt in cup I already had in my room. I did the calculation in my head. That would bide me only three more days to be able to steer clear of my mom. What the heck was I going to do after that?

  I guessed I would just have to cross that snow-covered bridge when I came to it. For now I was going to chow down on my fruit and nut bar, which might very well turn out to be one of the last meals of my life.

  • • •

  The night dragged on as the snow continued to drop. Everyone’s MyWeb page said that school was going to be cancelled the next day. I went to the school’s website and read that it would, in fact, be closed. I got cozy, read more of my novel and started feeling sleepy. I was surprised since it was only seven.

  I put my book down and started to worry again because I still hadn’t heard from Michael, even after I had attempted to call his cell phone an hour earlier. It had gone right to voice mail, so I left him a message. As I lay there, I tried to come up with reasons why he wasn’t getting back to me. It was so unlike him. Normally, if Michael wasn’t able to call me back right away, he’d usually text me saying he’d call me later. It had been over eleven hours and I hadn’t heard a word from him.

  Just then I heard footsteps coming again, only this time they were louder and heavier than before. I knew what it meant. It was my mother.

  I quickly slid my book away from me, got on my side and laid still. I heard a soft knock on the door and then someone open it. I smelled my mom’s perfume before she even entered.

  She walked over to my bed and I could tell she was peering down at me. It took everything in me to keep my eyes closed and pretend I was asleep. Luckily my mom was a big believer in sleep, especially with kids and teens. She felt that we didn’t get enough as it was and said our growing minds and bodies needed a lot of it. I was thankful for her convictions at that moment and was certain she wouldn’t try to wake me.

  I relaxed as best I could and snored my finest, fake snore. Finally I heard my mom quietly leave the room. I slowly opened my eyes, breathed a real sigh of relief and realized that I was safe. For now.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-NINE

  I had done such a convincing acting job the night before when I forced myself to relax, that when I rested my eyes for a split second, I had fallen asleep for the rest of the night. I awoke early the next morning feeling refreshed and energetic. Snow and frost covered my bedroom window, yet the soft glow of the winter’s sun streamed ambitiously through it.

  I didn’t remember any of my dreams or even if I had had any. I just knew that I felt good and was hopeful that we’d be able to go to school the next day so I could finally be reintroduced to civilization.

  I checked my cell phone. No word from Michael. I’d text him in a little while. I slowly opened my bedroom door and found the rest of the house quiet. Thank God my brother and mother were still sleeping. I was really hungry at this point, so I snuck downstairs, made myself a waffle and turned on the television.

  Every local news station was reporting about the snowstorm, even calling it the blizzard of the century. They showed footage of the northeast and the record-breaking amounts of snow left behind. Like the rest of Maine, Pike’s Island was paralyzed by the sheer volume of the fluffy white stuff.

  I could hear the plow outside on the road in front of our house. At least the snow had stopped falling and the town could start cleaning up. We should be able to go to school the next day, I figured.

  My cell phone beeped and I quickly took it out of my pocket to read the text. I hoped it was from Michael, but it wasn’t. It was from Tessa.

  “You alive?” she texted.

  “Barely.”

  “Snow sucks!”

  “I know.”

  “School tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Cool. Get’s me out of being in this insane asylum with my family.”

  I chuckled at her text. I guessed no one enjoyed being stuck inside their house with their family. I heard my mother stirring upstairs. I panicked. “Gotta go. Text you later.”

  I ran into the kitchen, put my empty plate in the sink and headed for my sanctuary so that I could avoid any and all contact with my mom for as long as possible.

  •
• •

  Thankfully, I heard my mother go downstairs. She must have thought I was still sleeping. I had gotten under my covers just in case she decided to come and check on me.

  I scanned Michael’s MyWeb and saw that nothing had changed. I called and texted him again and got no answer. I was really starting to worry. Michael would have gotten back to me by now, unless something was really wrong with him. He hadn’t sounded good the last time we spoke, which had been over twenty-four hours earlier.

  I tried to look up his home phone number on the Internet, but it didn’t show any listing for Anthony Cooper, Michael’s father, in Portland or on the island. For whatever reason, their number was unlisted. I didn’t know what to do. What if he was really sick at home, or even worse, ended up in the hospital again? I didn’t know why I was imagining the worst. It was probably because he hadn’t gotten back to me and had wound up in the hospital so many times before.

  Then I remembered that I had an old text that Michael had sent me a few weeks back when he was in the hospital, from his mom’s cell phone.

  I quickly found the text and his mom’s number. I finally had a way to find out what was going on with Michael, but I was hesitant to text his mother. What would I say to her? Did she even know about me? I had to calm down and try to think of something to write because I was sick with worry.

  I decided to keep it short and simple. I wrote: “Hi, I’m a friend of your son, Michael. I was just wondering how he is doing because I haven’t heard from him in a while. Thanks, Willow.”

  I pressed the send button and felt better immediately. At least I now had some sort of connection to Michael. I just hoped that whatever I heard back was good news. Maybe Michael flushed his cell phone down the toilet and he completely forgot my number or he misplaced his laptop in a huge snow bank and, therefore, wasn’t able to send me an e-mail. I sat on my bed and waited, knowing this was just wishful thinking. But, either way, I had to think positively.

  As the positive thoughts entered my brain, I got a text message. I looked at the number and saw it was from Michael’s mom. My heart dropped immediately. I was scared to read it, but didn’t have a choice. I opened it. It said: “Hi, Willow. Michael is in Maine Medical Center, not doing well. He wanted me to tell you this and that he is sorry he hasn’t called you. He will contact you if and when he can. Mrs. Cooper.”