The Void (2 page)

We
exchange lunacy and laughter as we sail along the winding roads,
working to avoid suffocating boredom that incubates on a very long
and monotonous drive, devoid of any stops worth taking...

"I
hope it snows!"

"It's
supposed to."

"How
much?"

"Paper
says near a foot by tomorrow night."

"We
can make snow men!"

I
laugh.

It
is cloudy and dangerously dark, the air thick and moist despite the
biting and insistent cold. Around us, stabbing the sky, mountains
erupted into the fog, making them appear short and squat, but knowing
they likely kissed the clear above it all.

"That
would be awesome!"

"We'll
have to buy coal and carrots."

Another
laugh.

"I
hope it buries us," she muses.

Jenny
could never get enough snow; the more, the better; when storms
struck, she would watch the yard as an epic play. A true powder
hound, she would have happily wasted her life bumming around the
Rocky Mountains, skiing endlessly until old age or accident prevented
her from living.

I
just liked her company.

The
road got progressively more narrow and erratic as time progressed,
swinging from left to right to left to right to left to right, the
edges of the road becoming smaller and rougher, and the surrounding
rocks growing taller, darker and more intimidating. Trees were ever
thicker and more tightly packed, devoid of leaves and buried in old
snow-pack.

We
were nearly there.

"I
see snow!"

She
points through the windshield at nothing. I squint into the sharp
contrast of the headlights against ink, and see nothing.

"I
don't see anything."

She
stabs at the glass.

"Look!
Right there!"

More
squinting...

"I
think you're crazy."

"I'm
not crazy, you're crazy!"

"It's
not snowing," I confirm.

"I
saw it!"

I
continue scanning, looking for the sudden dots amidst the cone of
light my headlights emitted, the scatter that always accompanied
nighttime snowfall, but not seeing anything no matter my strain.
Finally, I sat back in my seat, huffing. "You're definitely crazy,"
I conclude with a brilliant, confident smile.

"I'm
not crazy," she grumbles.

"Well,"
I snicker, "either way, it's not snowing,"

"You'll
see," she exclaims.

And
then, terrifyingly, I do.

All
at once, the cold, moist sky unzips itself and the snow comes in a
raging fit, covering all visibility in front of me like a blanket. In
a panic, I throw on the windshield wipers and stomp on the brakes, my
tires gently tugging to the right as we decelerate quickly, waiting
for the rapidly covering view port to clear.

"Okay,"
I exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel furiously, feeling the
tires begin to slip with each slight motion. "You were right."

"Of
course I was," she laughs, smug.

I
laugh, too, I think...

The
remaining mile took nearly thirty minutes in the atrocious and
surprise conditions, but we arrive at the little inn I had booked
just as the wind began to swirl out of control. Stepping from the
car, fighting the attack of winter, I race to the passenger side and
help Jenny out and into the lobby as quickly as I can make her move.

"Hello!"

A
portly, deeply graying man, eyes aflame with undeserved, unrelenting
happiness, greets us as we emerge from the elements.

"Hello,"
I answer, decidedly less enthusiastic than he had offered. I can't
even fake such spirit; I am freezing and wet.

"Are
you the Aaron's?"

"We
are," Jenny answers.

"Wonderful!
Your room is all ready!"

And
so I return to the elements, gather our bags, lock the car, and rush
back to the lobby. By the time the warmth of the heated room strikes
me, I am already coated in white and water.

"It's
really coming down out there, isn't it?" The man asks, without a
hint of disgust or dread.

"Like
a woman scorned," with a smile.

"As
it should be." He laughs.

And
we make our way down the only hall to our tiny room. It is cute and
atypical, devoid of the normal hotel amenities, a rustic appeal that
we both appreciate. And, of course, it was comfortably within our
budget; the most important reality.

I
tip the man as much as I have, which is likely only five or ten
dollars, and bound to the bed as soon as he closes the door.

"What
do you think?"

"It's
beautiful!" Jenny cries, scanning the room, opening and closing
dresser drawers and looking out the windows, admiring the rapidly
accumulating frozen puff that coats everything.

"Can
I pick a quaint little mountain inn?"

"You
sure can, sweetheart," she smiles, turning toward me with an
inquisitive expression. "Think we'll be able to get to the mountain
tomorrow?"

"I
don't know," I consider.

"I
hope we can..."

"If
it's still snowing like this in the morning then I'm thinking
probably not," I admit.

"It'd
be nice to get in a few runs on this fresh powder before it gets
groomed over, though."

"We'll
see what we can do."

"Okay,"
she giggles

And
I rise from the bed, wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to the
bed. She screams, and again giggles as she falls to the comforter,
throwing her arms around my neck, bringing me to her for a soft,
supple kiss and cuddle.

"Thank
you," she offers.

Puzzled,
"for what?"

"For
this-" and she quickly looks around the room again, using her eyes
as pointing fingers. "For the weekend, this trip – I really
needed it."

"Anything
for you, sweetheart," and I cup her head into my hands and mash her
into me with far less care than I should have taken. Without
provocation, my hands began to wander, down her arm, down her hips,
to her leg, and back up, under her shirt. I feel her skin recoil at
my touch, but her grunting encourages me. When I reach her bra, she
playfully slaps at my arm...

"Hello,"
and I am in the void again...

This
is my night nurse; her name is Sarah.

She
is a lovely young woman, and she really likes to talk to me. I think
she may be a little lonely. She talks often about her brother, who
doesn't live near enough to be of good company; she talks of her
beautiful little dog, her work, her schooling, but never of a lover
or of her friends or other family.

I
feel sorry for her...

It
is probably night, I assume.

"Your
vitals look strong, Max," she offers.

That's
good to know, as always.

"I
have a feeling that you'll be with us for quite some time," and I
hear her sit, as she always does. I am sure she has work that needs
doing, but she always spends some time in my room each visit. I must
have given her some kind of comfort, in an odd way.

I
don't know why...

"So,
Michael says he is coming to visit me this Saturday," she
continues. Michael is her brother. She speaks of him at least once a
week; they are very close, it seems. He is an engineer and works out
of state, I believe for the government, but I am failing to remember
accurately.

He
is quite wealthy, she tells me.

"He
said he has to tell me something."

Oh?
I wonder what that could that be about.

"He
didn't say what about, but I think he is finally going to propose to
Jill."

Wonderful!

After
so many years of fairly casual dating, it's probably about time he
took that lovely young lady off the market, I muse to myself.

I'm
embarrassingly old-fashioned...

"Or
else he already did."

Maybe
he is already married...

"I
like her," and she chuckles softly. "Not that it would matter;
I've never seen Michael as happy as he has been since he met her."

That's
good!

"I
don't think he'd care what I think."

You
might be surprised...

"I'm
glad he found someone."

Everyone
deserves to find their other half...

"I
just hope he doesn't forget about me," and a nervous, curt chuckle,
feigning lighthearted silliness that was clearly masking real fear.
"He's all I have, you know. I don't think I can handle losing him."

Don't
think like that...

"I
know that sounds stupid."

You
shouldn't worry. He loves you.

"I
know, it's silly."

It's
okay - we're all the occasional fool...

"I
guess it's obvious that I'm a little silly. After all, I spend my
night's talking to a vegetable," and she heartily laughs. I'd frown
if I were able.

I
can
hear you, you know...

And
then the sudden, brief crumple of linens, followed by silence; I
imagine that she threw her hands onto my bed with quenched belly
laughter, but I have no way of knowing.

Maybe
she's just doing her job.

An
odd mind, I have...

"Listen
to me," she breathes.

I
enjoy her voice...

"I
might see if he'll visit the hospital while he's here, if he has the
time. Maybe."

Would
he visit me?

I
think I'd like that...

"I
don't think he'd be allowed in any of the patient's rooms, but I'd at
least like him to meet some of my co-workers and see where I work,
see what I do. He's never been here in all the times he's visited
me."

I
wish I could hear his voice...

"Well,
I suppose I should get going."

So
soon?

Why
so soon?

"It's
been a crazy night. I'm so tired."

I'm
sorry to hear that...

She
usually sits and talks at me for much longer, even bordering on what
I imagine to be hours when she was particularly upset or really
bored. Maybe it is a busy night, or maybe she is growing tired of
talking to a heap of meat. Either way, I am sad to hear her footsteps
grow and dim, and disappear.

"Good
night, Max."

And
the door opens, closes, and silence.

Into
the mind once again...

Now
I am in another hospital, in another time, speaking with another
doctor, a portly man with thick, wire frame glasses, who is informing
us casually that Jenny is pregnant.

"Pregnant?"
I exclaim.

"Indeed,"
he smiles.

"How
far along?" Jenny asks.

"About
six weeks," the doctor answers.

"Oh,"
she breaths at me. I only nod.

"Was
this a planned pregnancy?"

"No,"
Jenny snaps. "Not at all."

"Well,"
the doctor continues, his hands now shuffling through mounds of
paperwork. "Are you interested in continuing to see me at this
office for the term of your pregnancy, or do you have another
obstetrician that would you prefer I transfer your results to at this
time?"

"You'll
do fine," she gasps, clearly in shock and disbelief. I almost
assuredly was the same, as I barely remember leaving his office and
getting into our car and driving home. But we are home when she
breaks down and cries, fitful sobbing into the edge of my shirt.

"It'll
be okay," I mumble, my hand on the back of her head, gently
stroking her hair, trying desperately to keep control of the
situation; I don't know what that means, exactly, or how I plan to
maintain this control, but it is what I am thinking...

"I
know," she says.

"You
know?" I ask.

"I'm
not upset, Max."

"But
you're crying?" Confused...

"I'm
happy," and she pulls back from me - and there it is, joy in her
eyes, a smile on her lips. She is brimming with it, even. It confuses
me, as I was not expecting it. "I'm so happy!" And she laughs.

She
was glowing!

"Oh,"
I manage. "Well-" and I rub her arms, up and down, up and down,
trying to muster a convincing enough lie and smile. "I am happy,
too," was the best I could come up with on such short notice and
amidst such crushing shock. She didn't believe me, but she never
admitted it...

"Hello,
Max!"

I
don't know this voice.

It
was a woman, though, and her footsteps were marching towards me,
louder, louder, tapping violently along the floor, and then a great
rustle of fabric. Someone is grappling my sheets; I think she may be
hugging me... Who would be hugging me?

Who
is this?

"How
is he doing?" She asks.

"The
same as always." That was Jenny.

Who
else is here?

"He
looks good!"

Please,
say a name!

"He
does look good."

A
name! I need a name!

"Good
morning!" My doctor...

"Morning,
Dr. Benson!" My wife...

"How's
our patient doing?" My doctor...

"He
has good color!" Mystery woman...

"And
who are you?" My doctor...

Finally,
a name to come...

"Dr.
Benson, this is my sister, Mary."

Mary?
That's Mary?

She
sounds... so different...

"It's
a pleasure to meet you!"

What
is wrong with her voice?

"The
pleasure is mine!"

It
sounds... scratched. As though she has taken up smoking, and even
devolved into several packs per day. But that is absurd; Mary never
smoked, in fact was a rabid health aficionado, running several
marathons in her college years and always being cautious with her
diet. There is no way she would take up smoking...

"So,
how are you, Jenny?" She asks.

Furthermore,
w
hy
is Mary here now? I thought Jenny said she wouldn't be
here for a week? Has it been a week already?

How
did I miss an entire week?