Snowbound

by CJ Martín

  My body shudders, eyes wide with shock. I have no idea what the fuck she’s saying. Bursts of emotion pop into my brain: confusion, uncertainty, sadness, happiness, relief… and disappointment.

  Why am I disappointed by her words? Why did my heart sink, belly drop to learn that she isn’t pregnant with my child?

  She’s moving at what seems like warp speed, but my own movements are sluggish, my brain slow to process. I watch the door click closed behind her. I watch her leave. I sit, my body a useless mass of bone, tendon, muscle, that I can’t propel into movement. She’s the best thing in my life and I’ve fucked it up.

  I’ve fucked up what I love the most.

  My fist pounds on Erika’s door. It’s late, so she may be asleep, but she owes me. I bring my hand up again. Just as my skin is about to make contact with the coarse wood, the door swings open.

  “Hey, El. What are you doing here? Isn’t Anders supposed to be back?”

  “Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it.” I hitch my overnight bag up on my shoulder as I brush past her and plop on her couch. “Can I stay here tonight?”

  “Sure.” Her head darts outside into the hallway before she closes the door. “As long as you like. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Thanks.” I drop my bag on the floor beside me.

  “I was just making tea.”

  Tea? Who makes tea besides grandmothers? Must be a pregnancy thing…

  “Sure.”

  She walks back into the tiny kitchen. I listen to the cupboards open and close a few times, and moments later she appears with two steaming mugs. “Peppermint. Decaffeinated.”

  My eyebrows rise in question.

  “Caffeine’s not good for the baby. Peppermint settles an upset stomach. Lately everything turns my stomach.”

  I nod in understanding.

  “I’ve been reading one of the books you ordered me…”

  “Good.” We lapse into silence.

  “So what happened?” She lasted a minute, not even. I was hoping, praying, that she would let it go. After all, I pushed for nothing with the whole pregnancy thing. But patience is not one of Erika’s strong points.

  “Anders is an asshole.”

  She snorts, but doesn’t say anything more.

  “He found the pregnancy test.” My eyes meet hers. “He thought I was pregnant.”

  “And?”

  “And he didn’t take it well. He acted as though it was my fault. Like I got myself pregnant. I mean, he was right there with me!” My voice rises in indignation. “Said he wasn’t ready to be a father. Like I’m ready to be a mother.”

  I’m breathless by the time I’m done with my tirade. Erika sits quietly, her palms grip the mug in her hands, eyes downcast. Only then do I realize how insensitive I’ve been. “Jesus. I’m sorry.” I place my own mug down and lean forward.

  “It’s okay.” Her voice is weak.

  “No, it’s not. I’m being a terrible friend.” I rest my palm on her knee and squeeze. “You don’t need to hear my relationship drama. No more talking about me. Or Anders.”

  We remain quiet for a long time. Minutes. Hours. I have no idea. I suspect we’re both lost in our own thoughts.

  It’s been quiet for so long that the sound of her voice startles me. “Do you think JJ will react like Anders?”

  Probably. Maybe worse. “I don’t know.”

  She shakes her head. “Yes you do.”

  “Look, the thing is, it’s a lot to handle. I think he’ll need time. You needed time to deal with it. You’re still dealing with it all. I think he’ll support you.” At least financially.

  “Easier said than done, right?”

  “What do you mean?” I pick at the fuzzies on my blanket. The blanket that smells like Anders.

  “Well, if all that’s true, why did you get so mad at Anders?” Her voice is direct, not cruel, but matter of fact.

  And in that moment I realize that speaking about something in the hypothetical and actually living it are two things completely. Emotion and logic cannot be separated. Intellectually I know why Anders freaked out; he thought I was pregnant. But he made me feel alone. Guilty. Ashamed. Emotionally I’m a mess, disappointed by his reaction, by his anger.

  My heart breaks a little more for Erika in that moment.

  “Come here,” I whisper as I pull her in for a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Almost two weeks later I’m still crashing in Erika’s spare bedroom. We’ve fallen into somewhat of a routine. We walk to and from work together. At night we order cheap takeout, eat ice cream, and try not to think about how miserable either of our lives are.

  At least for me there is a light at the end of the tunnel—I only have five more days left of my internship. I fly home for graduation in less than a week. Returning to my normal life causes mixed emotions. For the most part, I’m excited—I can’t wait to see Maria and the rest of my friends. And my mom. But there’s also sadness, because… Anders.

  When I first moved out, Anders tried multiple times to get in touch with me. Countless texts. Numerous phone calls. He even showed up at work. On more than one occasion. It’s not that I’m trying to be difficult. I’m not. But his reaction to the fake pregnancy scared me. The way he was so accusatory, so cold and condescending. He reminded me of his mother. And I didn’t like it. At all.

  Foolishly I thought we were on the same page, that we were in this relationship together. And while being pregnant is not ideal, or something I even want at this point, freaking out and blaming me was not the way he should have handled it.

  And what’s worse is I’m almost positive he told me he loved me. During one particularly low moment I Google translated “I love you” into Norwegian (no judgment please) and the phrase that popped up sounded eerily similar to words he uttered. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know.

  I had to know if he loved me as much as I loved him. Still love him.

  There’s a fine line between love and hate, and the day he found the pregnancy test we crossed that line. I’d never seen him so angry. So hurt. So scared.

  I could forgive everything—I mean, God, if I really were pregnant I’d be just as freaked out—but his accusation is what I can’t get over. He said I lied to him. Lied, like he believed that I purposefully tricked him into impregnating me.

  If he can’t trust me, then as far as I’m concerned, we have no basis for a relationship.

  Both Maria and Erika think I need to listen to him, give him a second chance. It’s a bit infuriating. They should always take my side.

  Maybe they’re right, but I need more time to calm down, to think. When I asked Anders for some space, he agreed, broken and defeated, and has not contacted me since.

  The pinging of my phone rouses me from computer work. My heart leaps as I see the text message icon pop up, but falls just as quickly. Not Anders. I don’t know why I expected him to text. I told him I needed space, a decision that I’ve regretted ever since the words left my mouth.

  My eyes scan the text.

  JJ: I need to talk to you.

  My stomach tightens. I know exactly that he wants to talk about. Erika. And her pregnancy. Two nights ago when I came home from work, I walked in on their screaming match in the kitchen. Thankfully, they were so engrossed, so enraged, they didn’t notice me slip right back out the door.

  I text back, telling him I’m working.

  JJ: I fucking know that.

  I gasp audibly. I know he’s dealing with shit right now, but I won’t be his punching bag. I can’t. I myself am hanging on by a thread. I begin to text back a response, something along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself’ when another message pops up.

  JJ: Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I haven’t slept in two fucking days.

  My anger dissipates, replaced by equal parts compassion and pity. I haven’t been sleeping well either.

  El: My lunch break is in twenty minutes. I can meet you at the café.

  JJ: I’ll be there.


  JJ’s back is to me when I enter, and he doesn’t look up until he hears me sit down next to him.

  “Hey.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “Hey.” He turns fully to face me and I take him in. He looks awful. His eyes are tired and worried, his hair unkempt. Not only does he look like he hasn’t been sleeping, it looks like he hasn’t eaten either.

  The crinkling of the brown paper bag is loud as I reach in for my apple slices. He looks like he needs sugar. “Here.” I offer him one. “You look like shit.”

  His eyebrows rise at my directness, but he lets it go. “Not hungry.”

  I roll my eyes. “JJ, just eat the damn thing.”

  He takes it from my hand, and puts it slowly in his mouth.

  “Good boy.”

  “I’m not a fucking dog.” He barks.

  “Yeah, but you sure acted like one,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Jesus. How the fuck does Vik put up with you?” He shakes his head.

  His words are like a physical blow to my stomach, so much so that I recoil. I don’t fucking need this. How the hell did I get so mixed up in Erika and JJ’s drama? I have enough of my own.

  I stand to leave, and JJ’s hand reaches out to stop me. “Sorry. Jesus, Elena. I didn’t mean that. I’m a fucking mess.” He drops his hand.

  Knowing I should walk away—do I really have the strength to deal with this right now?—I sit back down slowly. “It’s okay. We all have our days.”

  He snorts. After a few moments of silence, he finally asks, “How is she?”

  “How do you think?” My voice sounds bitchy, even to my own ears, so I adjust the tone and try again. “She’s a mess, but she’s trying.”

  “She won’t take my calls. Or answer any of my texts.” His voice is flat.

  “After what you said to her, can you blame her?” The cold words I heard before I escaped that afternoon still pierce my thoughts. Can you get rid of it?

  “No.”

  “And she said you demanded a paternity test?”

  He drops his eyes in shame. “Yes.”

  “Shit, JJ.”

  “I know. I panicked. What the fuck was I supposed to do? We hooked up a handful of times. It’s not like we were even dating. For all I know she could have been sleeping with ten other guys.” He blows out his breath.

  “Could have been, but I think you know that’s not true.”

  He shakes his head. “How the fuck am I supposed to be there for her, for this baby, when she won’t even talk to me? I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

  “Have you told your parents yet?”

  “No.” He looks at me, eyes pleading, begging me for an answer that I don’t have.

  “Maybe they could help.” I swallow, steady my voice before adding, “Or Anders.”

  JJ blinks. “Vik? He’s fucking useless. Ever since you broke his heart—”

  Whoa. “I broke his heart?” My voice rises in outrage. “I don’t know what the fuck he told you, but I can assure you it was the other way around.”

  “Calm down. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  “Whatever.” My voice is cool, any sympathy I had for him nearly gone.

  He tugs his hair. “Look, my world just got turned upside down, so forgive me if I’m not at my best. I’m sorry if I’m being an asshole, but I don’t know who else to turn to. Anders is just as fucked up as I am.”

  “He is?” I can’t help myself.

  His eyes widen in disbelief. “Yeah.” I try to ignore the sarcasm in his voice. “He’s in rough shape. He barely boards anymore, his parents aren’t speaking to him—”

  “Because of me?”

  His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “No, because of the hearing. He still won’t agree to take the deal, even though it’s his best shot. And now that he’s lost you…”

  “He hasn’t lost me.” My voice is sad.

  “Does he know that?”

  I shake my head as I try to explain what I’m feeling. “Anders hurt me. He accused me of trapping him. Lying to him.”

  “I know.” JJ sighs. “He told me everything. And all I’m saying is to cut him a little slack. As a guy who is actually dealing with the situation, it’s fucking terrifying. He’s sorry. Really fucking sorry.” For a moment I wonder if he’s talking about Anders or himself.

  I nod and try to control my breathing which has turned short and choppy. My throat constricts. Don’t cry. After a few seconds I have my emotions under control and change directions. “I think Erika will come around.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I say with more confidence and assurance than I feel. “She just needs some time.”

  He doesn’t look convinced. “Did you mean it when you told Vik you needed time? Or was it just something you said to sound good? To get rid of him?”

  Despite my best efforts, a quiet sob escapes my lips. “I meant it,” I whisper. “I think I’ve already forgiven him.”

  “Then why aren’t you back with him? At the apartment?”

  “It’s complicated.” I hedge. “Besides, he hasn’t called or texted in days.”

  “He will.”

  I offer a sad smile. “Thank you.” I glance nervously at the clock; it’s almost time to get back to work.

  “I know you have to get back, but do you think you could do something for me?”

  My hands grip the table in anticipation. “What?”

  “Would you mind keeping me updated? About Erika?”

  My smile drops.

  “Since she’s not talking to me, at least for the foreseeable future. All I need to know is how she and the baby are doing.”

  I pause, debating my loyalties. Erika is my friend, but so is JJ. And who would it hurt if I let him know she is doing okay? How her doctor appointments went? It’s not like I’d be spilling her deepest, darkest secrets.

  “Okay.”

  The tension in his face breaks, and his jaw loosens. “Thank you.”

  It’s been thirteen days. Not a long time by most standards, but the longest Anders and I have gone without talking since I met him all those months ago. I was dying to know how things went at his SSC review two days ago. My stomach has been in knots for days, hoping it went well and that he was acquitted of all charges. How many text messages can a person type and delete in a forty-eight hour period? Well over one hundred.

  “Hey.” Erika plops down on my bed.

  “Hey.” I shove another pile of sweaters into my suitcase. No way I’ll get it closed.

  “Need help?”

  “I should be okay, thanks. Just this one last suitcase.” I shipped about ten boxes home earlier this week. And yes, I was a coward and made sure that Anders would be away when I went back into the apartment. I didn’t trust myself not to fall back into bed with him.

  “I saw Anders today.”

  My heart stops. Restarts. “Really?” He was supposed to be in Boulder until the thirty-first.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you.”

  How did he look? Did he mention me? Did he say if he missed me? “Oh.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t look that great.”

  “Oh,” is all I could manage again.

  “The SSC review didn’t go well.”

  I turn to face her. She has my full attention. “Did he tell you that? What did he say?”

  “No.” She shakes her head and rests her hands on her belly. She has a tiny, adorable bump. “But everyone knows.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “Mandatory thirty day suspension. Fifty thousand dollar fine.”

  I exhale a shaky breath. “That’s not too bad.” Money isn’t an issue for Anders. Even if he didn’t make millions through his endorsements, his parents are well off.

  “Thirty days is the entire X-Games. He won’t be able to compete.”

  “Oh.” My stomach clenches in righteous indignation. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s being denied competing in the sport he lives for, trains for
, the sport he loves, because of someone else’s actions. Sometimes life is so unfair.

  “Yeah, it’s a tough break.”

  That is an understatement. I sit down on my suitcase in an attempt to squish its contents flat. After three tries I get the zipper closed and wheel it to the front door.

  “You still giving me a ride to the airport tomorrow?”

  “Yep.”

  The car ride to the airport is bittersweet. I’m more than ready to graduate and start the next chapter of my life. But there’s also sadness, because I’ll be leaving behind some great friends. I let myself ponder how sometimes the worst things can turn into the very best things. My time at Seven Pines is filled with many memories. Memories I wouldn’t have made had my original internship not fallen through.

  And then there’s Anders.

  I can’t let myself think about him now. My spine straightens and my shoulders roll back. Holding my head high, I wheel my suitcase inside the terminal.

  Turning back to face Erika, I ask her again, “You sure you’re gonna be okay here all by yourself?”

  “Yes.” Her voice rises in exasperation. “Stop asking!”

  “We’ll text. And Skype. I need to stay updated on El Bambino.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you can fly out to visit. I think you’d like North Carolina.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice trails off as we both realize it most likely won’t happen.

  “Thanks again, for everything.” I hug her.

  “You too.”

  I pull away and reach for my purse on the floor beside us.

  “Text me as soon as your plane lands.”

  “Will do.”

  As I walk away, the tears roll down my cheeks. I make no effort to wipe them away as I hand over my boarding pass. I convince myself that these are tears of happiness. I’m graduating. I’m going home.

  Not one of these tears is for Anders.

  And if my heart broke a little bit more when he didn’t show up at the airport to say goodbye, to tell me he loved me, to tell me to stay, well, it was just something that I’d have to live with. After all, my life isn’t a movie.