End of Her

January 10, 2009

Creemore, Colorado

THE SNOW HAS fallen heavily, relentlessly, for two days now, and shows no sign of letting up. It’s madness to go. But the snow plows are out, Lindsey reminds herself. She stares moodily out the window, feeling trapped and restless. Trapped by the mountains surrounding her in this small Colorado town thirty miles from downtown Denver. Trapped by the endless snow. Snow brings such silence. Sometimes the silence makes her want to scream.

Her husband enters the tiny, crowded living room behind her; the space is cheaply furnished, the teetering bookshelves held together with screws.

‘All set?’ Patrick asks as she turns and looks up at him, her hands resting on her huge, pregnant belly. They’re still being careful with each other, after last night’s argument.

She’s glad to be getting out of here, where her sense of isolation is so complete. Snow or not, they’re going to visit her mother and sister in Grand Junction for a few days, where the weather is more moderate. Their bags are packed, and standing by the door. She longs to be back in the bosom of her family – she’s hungry for the much-needed company and attention. She didn’t know this would be so hard. She’ll stop in familiar coffee shops, and meet up with the friends she’d left behind. They’ll smile and exclaim over how big she is, and want to touch her stomach; they’ll be excited about the impending baby. And Lindsey will feel better. Better about everything. And then she’ll be able to face coming back.

Or maybe she will stay in Grand Junction.

‘I’d better start shoveling the car out,’ Patrick says, and puts on his boots and coat. He adds a hat and gloves, and says, ‘I’ll warm up the car for you.’

She nods and turns back to the window.