Sigh, Alaska: a short story novel

Marlene Johansen

Marlene was ready to go home. She had packed her suitcases, and put even more of her things into boxes that she mailed the day before. It was the last day of March, and she had survived her first Alaskan Winter.

She hoped she'd never have to do it again.

Marlene Johansen had been looking for adventure when she set out from Tulsa, Oklahoma. After raising six kids and divorcing two husbands, she wanted her own adventure. As a child, she often wanted to travel. She loved maps, love putting little red pins on all the places she wanted to visit. But no place held more mystery or more intrigue than Alaska.

Getting by on her salary and social security had been rough, especially in the last few years without her second husband's alimony. Her last child had turned eighteen and the payments dried up with it. Marlene considered herself lucky that he was willing to put his three children through college, even if they weren't particularly interested in attending. The fact that he was able to pay was comfort enough. If her kids couldn't appreciate the gesture, well, that was on them.

Oh Lord, she missed those kids. Again, she thought it was lucky she had so many; otherwise she wouldn't have a place to stay when she got back to Oklahoma. She had sold her house, and all of her things to help finance her trip to Alaska.

She'd had plans for her trip. Looking back now, she realized that she had planned it all wrong. Marlene thought it would be romantic to spend a winter in Alaska, but it turned out to be nothing but screaming babies and heartache; or what she considered a hefty reminder of her first marriage.

She could have rented her own apartment, and maybe she should have. But she wanted to experience Alaska with people who were also there to experience what the great state had to offer. Marlene just didn't expect to spend so much time working. Or sleeping. Or just getting by.

It stunned her, really and truly stunned her when she thought about all the extra hours she spent lazing about in bed, when she could have been exploring. It turned out flying out of Anchorage to Sitka or Kodiak was still expensive, and many things she wanted to see were only open during tourist season. She knew she should have just stayed for the summer but as winter settled in, she was excited about what adventure would come.

Well, it was too late now. Marlene was ready to go home. She had made up her mind about it well before, but her pride demanded she see at least Winter Collective through. It had nearly killed her on Thanksgiving, and again on Christmas to talk to her kids and her grandkids on the phone, and not be there to cook dinner and open presents. In her thirty years of being a parent, she'd never missed a holiday until now.

"Momma?" Angela, Marlene's daughter cried into the phone. "Merry Christmas, momma! Oh I miss you!"

"I miss you too, baby." Marlene replied. She had a moment to herself at the hostel and relaxed on the couch in the quiet common room. The room smelled of pine. Richard had grabbed a couple of the boys to cut down a tree at a farm in Wasilla, and the two idiot girls went to town decorating it. When Marlene heard that they had been given free rein to decorate, she was sure it would be tacky and monstrous, but the ending result was actually quite classic with tinsel, homemade decorations and twinkling colored lights.

"We got your Christmas package! The kids love the packages of snow you sent!"

"Oh, aren't those great? Just add a little water and you got snow!" Marlene had found them at the local tourist shop, and thought the kids would get a kick out of it. They'd seen ice, but hadn't seen snow.

"And hubby sure appreciated all the smoked salmon." Angela continued. "I think the babies want to talk to you." Marlene heard a shuffle as the kids in the background fought over who got to speak with grandma first. She could feel her heart breaking a little, knowing she couldn't reach through the phone and give them each a big hug.

"Grandma!" Exclaimed Eric, "I got snow!"

"I heard! Now you have snow like I have snow here."

"When are you coming over? Mommy made a big ham and there's macaroni and cheese and greens," Eric paused to inhale as though he was about to let loose a big secret, "Mommy, she even tried to make your apple pie. I told her no one makes apple pie like grandma, but mommy thinks she got the recipe right."

Marlene laughed into the phone, trying to cover up her sob. "You tell her right, son. Nobody makes apple pie like grandma. When I get home, I promise it is the first thing I'll make for you, and you and me will share it. No one else."

"Yes!" Eric shouted into the phone. "Are you going to be here soon?"

Marlene sighed deeply. It was the same every time she spoke with Eric. "No, baby. I'm in Alaska, I can't drive over. It'd take me days and days!" She replied, trying to laugh.

"It's okay, we can wait." He replied, earnest in a way only children can be.

"I'll be back in April, maybe. I'll make you a pie then."

Silence on the other line. "What, are you gonna pick all the apples yourself? Cause you know they got stores that sell them-" Eric replied, and then was cut off. Marlene heard a shuffle, and a pout.

"Okay momma, here's Anna."

"Hi, Anna, baby." Marlene crooned into the phone. She heard breathing, then Angela in the background prompting Anna to speak.

"Say, 'Hi Grandma' Anna." More silence, more shuffling.

"Hi Anna, baby. I love you. Grandma misses you. I hear you're getting so big!" Marlene couldn't keep the wobble out of her voice now. Anna, eight months old was born just before she had left for her journey north. When she left, Anna was little, hairless, and toothless, and now she had blond curls, a big grin that boasted exactly three teeth and scooted around on her behind. Marlene had missed it all, and would miss more still. "You're such a smart little girl, and so pretty. Your momma sends me pictures and I miss you so much."

Marlene didn't expect to get a reply, but she heard Anna laugh. A deep belly baby laugh and Marlene felt the tears pour over her cheeks as she laughed along. Her subconscious whispered to her, "You have money; you can go home any time you want. You can see your babies tonight. You should see your babies tonight. They are growing up without you and soon you won't be around to see them at all. Anna's going to be walking by the time you get home. Do you really want to miss that? To miss the snuggling and the waffle Sunday mornings and Zoo dates? Go home. Go home now. The tug at your heart will cease, these idiot girls won't bother you at two in the morning, and you can be with your family. Go home. Go home now."

Marlene choked back her next sob and said into the phone, "Anna, Baby, put your mom back on the phone."

"I'm here, momma. You okay?" Angela asked softly.

"I just miss you guys so much. But I'll be home in April and we'll see each other then."

"Yeah. We'll see you then." Angela replied, her voice still soft, worried.

"Tell everyone I said hello, and that I miss them and love them so much and I'll be home soon, and Merry Christmas, of course." Marlene sniffled into the phone. She needed to hang up, and quick. She wasn't going to be able to keep herself together for much longer.

"Will do, momma. We love you too. We all wish you were here."

"Love you, baby. Bye."

"Love you, momma."

Marlene waited until Angela hung up, and then set her cellphone down to her side. She spent the rest of the night in room, alone, trying desperately to convince herself it was worth staying away.

It was funny, Marlene thought. Just a year ago, the thought of getting through another Christmas with her kids who could never agree on anything, made her skin crawl. Now that she'd missed it, Marlene thought she'd do anything to take it back.

The night she and Alyssa helped the two idiot girls out of the bathroom and into their beds shined bright in Marlene's memory. She'd been an idiot when she was their age. She'd also had two kids by the time she was nineteen. She wouldn't judge them as harshly as maybe Alyssa and Summer did, because she understood the need to be loved and appreciated, even if it meant accepting it in inappropriate ways or from inappropriate partners. Marlene was just too old to be fishing girls out of bathtubs and putting them to bed, especially if they weren't even her own kids. Marlene figured their mother's probably hadn't been very good ones, and tried to be what they needed while she could.

But mostly, Marlene had wanted to explore. She came to Alaska in the middle of the summer, and stumbled upon the Northern Lights Hostel. She was charmed with its decor and atmosphere, and when she learned about Winter Collective, it seemed like kismet. She took the train to Whittier and took a cruise to see the glaciers. She caught the ferry that took her to Cordova where she stood awe inspired by the snowcapped mountains that jutted straight into the sky. Marlene rented a car back in Anchorage and took a trip up to Denali, hiking into the forest to see bears. She didn't have to go too far, as the bears tended to hang out by the entrance. She went halibut fishing in Seward and Homer. Everywhere she went, she wished her kids could see it with her. By the time September had rolled around, her savings had dwindled and she needed a job to get through 'til spring, or a plane ticket to go home. After the adventure she had, what were a couple more months? When would she get another chance to experience the magic of the Alaskan winter?

Working was nothing new to Marlene. She'd been working since she was ten years old. First with her mother as a seamstress, then as a waitress as she got older. She never got out of customer service, never advanced enough to manager though she had the experience and the skills. Mostly she wanted to be busy.

Being busy cut into her travel time, and when December rolled around she realized that she could be doing the same work back in Oklahoma, and be happier because her family would be a few doors down instead of thousands of miles away. She should have cut out in September, but she was determined to spend a winter in Alaska. Every time she spoke with her kids, they bemoaned their jealousy at her travels. If she exaggerated, some of her stories based on what she'd heard from other hostellers, well, it was just as well. Her kids never appreciated her when she was there and now that she was leading a life without them, they suddenly realized how much Marlene did for them. High time, if you asked her.

It fascinated Marlene to watch the day light disappear during the winter. Each day, even though only seconds were lost, you could feel it the extra darkness as if it sank into the bone. She wished she were any good at photography. She thought maybe taking a camera to the park and taking a picture of the mountains at moment of solstice every day during winter and then splicing them together in a time lapse would be awe-inspiring. How else could she possibly explain the subtleties of an Alaskan winter to someone who had never experienced it?

Because then, just when you felt like it couldn't get any darker, it couldn't last any longer, you could feel the change. The day would feel inches longer, each one adding just a little bit more day light until suddenly you didn't know what to do with all the sun. At the end of March, Break Up (the season reserved for the snow melting, usually called spring everywhere else in the country) was trying to make itself present, and failing. Two days before Marlene's flight was to take her home, it snowed fifteen inches. She laughed and twirled around in the courtyard of the hostel as the snow covered the rivers of ice and created new and improved snow banks on the roads. Trees that had shaken off the last snowfall were covered in a lovely new dress that sparkled in the street lamps. The temperature had dropped and the branches that couldn't hold the heavy snow, held hoarfrost instead. Everywhere Marlene looked, it glistened. No, winter wasn't over yet, but her time in Alaska was.