I woke up to storm clouds hovering in a sky devoid of stars, curled up on my side and shivering. My quilt was wadded up into a twisted ball at one end, the other end pillowed under my head. Sitting up to untangle it, I knocked my empty wine bottle to the floor. The hollow sound of the empty bottle rang in my skull and made my stomach lurch. Dejavu washed over me. David sitting in my kitchen, a pool of water under him and that horrible smell, flashed through my memory. It was another nightmare. David and Scott's visit earlier tonight had sent me reeling into another hellish nightmare.
I stumbled inside. My head still felt fuzzy, whether it was from the after effects of the alcohol or the nightmare, I wasn't sure and I wasn't sure if I could make it upstairs to my bedroom right now. I decided not to even bother trying and instead collapsed onto the couch. The flames in the fireplace had fizzled out sometime in the middle of the night which was probably a good thing, but it had left the room freezing cold. Curling up in front of a fire with a nice stiff drink to cure the aching dizziness in my head seemed like a good idea in this weather, even if it was temporary.
Jason had depleted the firewood in the bin next to the fireplace for our picnic. If I wanted a fire I was going to have to make a trip to the woodpile out back. Samantha's old pink leather boots still stood next to the back door. They were one size too small. She'd always had smaller feet than me. I shoved my feet into them, they'd do for a short trip out to the woodpile and it was better than my sneakers getting soaked.
I stomped out onto the porch in my one size too small, borrowed boots and down the steps, flashlight in hand. I sloshed through the mud and water along the back of the house. Thank God I had at least remembered to re-secure the bunji cords that held the tarp in place in my drunken state or I would have had a stack of soaking wet wood right now. I stood on tiptoes on the corner of a palette and struggled to release the bunji cords. The bunj cords finally snapped loose. The last one snapped back in my face when I released it and almost knocked out my two front teeth.
I grabbed three or four nice size logs and a handful of kindling. I staggered back to the porch under the weight of the wood and came close to tripping a couple of times. I had to go back to the woodpile and tie the tarp back down. The weather didn't look like it was about to clear up any time soon and I couldn't chance it getting wet. I struggled with the bunji cords for about ten minutes before I got the tarp tied down, but at least I didn't even come close to knocking out my teeth this time.
I crumpled up the sports section from an old newspaper, Dad's favorite section, and tossed it into the fireplace, and tossed a lit match in. After thirty minutes of attempting to start a fire, I finally saw a small spark. I fanned the spark and it died so I had to repeat the whole damned process. Satisfied that the flames weren't just going to die down again, I grabbed another bottle of tequila from the bar and lay down on my stomach on the quilt still spread on the floor. I tilted my bottle of tequila and took a long swallow, waiting for the ball of fire in my stomach to warm me up.
My mind was starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy from the alcohol, the flames in the fireplace blurring in my stinging vision. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open, but I was afraid to let myself fall asleep. I was afraid of the nightmares that would haunt my sleep or waking up to something much worse than even one of my nightmares. Maybe the solitude out here at the cabin was getting to me and driving me insane. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the sleep deprivation causing my hallucinations.
If there was anyone I could have called or a shot a text to, to get me out of this cabin if only for an hour or two, but there was no one. I had no friends. David's friends and their wives had been the closest thing I might have had to friends all these years and I was beyond sure they weren't now. Jason, Luke, and Melissa were the only people I could think of around here who I might've called. As much as I wanted to, or needed the company, there was no way in hell I was going to call Jason after our little picnic last night. A romantic attachment was the last thing I needed right now.
