Red Lights

The winter storm came on fast and hard. Luckily it was almost closing time, and it was a slow enough day that I could get the end-of-day cleanup done before locking the gate and heading out. Within the hour, you could barely see across the parking lot of the mall to the road beyond.

It had been a long day at the shop, and I was exhausted. Jenny would be in tomorrow to restock some of our in-house-made items.

It was time to get home and hunker down.

After grabbing my bags and locking up, I headed out to my car and saw through the glass doors just how hard it was snowing. Good grief!

I trudged along the walkway — wrong day for sneakers — and said a quiet thanks that I had gotten a closer parking spot than usual. Unlocking the doors, I chucked my bags in the back and grabbed the snow brush from the trunk. As quickly as I could clear it, big, wet, fat flakes covered the car again. I sighed and got in the driver’s seat, starting up my beast and tossing the red brush in the passenger seat.

I clicked on the heat only to be shot with cold air. I should have started it up while I brushed the car off. Uurgh. I was so spacey lately, probably because I’ve been so damned sick. Of course I haven’t been sleeping well either — lack of money will do that to you. Oh well. I just had to work a little harder, put in a few more hours, and keep pushing. I just had to keep going.

An audible crunch greeted me when I went to shrug out of my thick red-and-black plaid coat. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I realized I was completely caked from hair to waist in quickly melting snow. Urck! I hadn’t even remembered to put my hood up. Damn, I was a space case!

I smiled and tasted the snow, thinking I would enjoy it the way I had when I was little, only to be brought up short by the taste of something chemically that stung my throat and tongue.

Bleech. What the heck kind of snow was this crap? It tasted almost like formaldehyde smelled.

I started the car up and clicked on the heat. The car was warming up, which meant that coupled with my body heat, the snow all over me would melt and I would be sitting in a puddle on the way home. Gaaaah!

I sighed again. Oh well. At least it would be a warm puddle.

I let the snow melt, watching it run to water and stream off my beast of a black sedan. I was glad that the heater worked. I had had plenty of winters with no heat in whatever beater I had been able to scrounge up.

I leaned my head back against the seat — the headrests were taken out — and went through the long mental list of what I would need to do once I got back, then idly wondered how much I would get done before I collapsed. I was tired all of the time these days.

I had gotten bronchitis recently, and my chest had been tight and achy for the last few weeks. Bronchitis was a familiar illness; I had been getting it more frequently in the last seven years. It seemed like if I even caught a cold, it rolled into bronchitis. Decongestants were a lifesaver.

I took a breath and remembered that I would need a new bottle soon. One more thing on the list.

The taste of the snow pulled at my mind. When did snow ever taste like that? It was fresh-fallen snow.

My phone lit up — my mom’s name flashing across the screen. I knew what that was: get home now. Mom was great for taking care of Snuggle Bear for me. But more than likely my baby bear wanted to go play in all of the white stuff outside, and that just was not in Mom’s wheelhouse. Looks like I wouldn’t get anything done tonight — but a snowball fight might be nice.

The bronchitis would be rough either way.

I just hoped that I would have enough energy to give Bear some time in the snow. Damned bronchitis.

I slid the phone open to answer. “Waiting for the car to heat up.”

“Okay, Dolly, please be safe on the roads. It’s really coming down out there.”

“Yeah, no kidding! I couldn’t even get the car brushed off fast enough — it kept getting recovered. How is Snuggle Bear?”

She laughed. “Waiting on Momma so he can go play in the snow!”

I smiled. “I will be home in just a little bit. Please get his snow stuff on him. See you guys soon.”

“Okay, will do. Be safe.”

“Thanks, Mom. See you soon.” I hung up.

My chest tightened and started to ache slightly. It was probably the cold making the bronchitis feel worse. Hmm. I might need a few minutes with the heating pad before we went out.

With that thought, I backed out of the parking spot and shifted to drive once I was far enough past the other cars still mired in the snow — their owners were going to love coming out to this — and fishtailed a little.

Oh boy. This was going to be a slow crawl of a drive.

I made it out of the lot and onto the road. People were being idiots, driving way too fast and ignoring safety protocols. Groaning inwardly, I crawled along. Every stoplight looked like a set of ghost lights hovering in the midst of the whiteout.

I passed a few and was finally on the road with the turnoff for the house coming up, fishtailing and sliding slightly all the way. My poor wipers really needed replacing. They were working so hard but just couldn’t keep up.

I looked up at the three red lights ahead, swaying slightly in the wind and snow. They looked so pretty just glowing there in all of the white flakes dancing around them. It was like the whole world was softened and everything was just a little more magical when it snowed — especially like this.

As I got closer, those lights took on an ominous feeling. I kept staring at them and had the strange feeling that something bad had just happened…

Seven days before, after the freak snowstorm that raged across the Midwest in the middle of February…

I rubbed at my forehead, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

Bear had started screaming ten minutes after I hung up with Linny and had been inconsolable since. Linny was working late again. She was always working late these days, and when she was home she was working on all of the backend work for her business. That girl hardly slept and was sick all of the time to show for it. And she momed how she worked — constantly.

Linny could be easily distracted, so at first I didn’t think too much of her being late. It was quite common these days. But three hours for a ten-minute drive was unheard of, even for her. And she wasn’t answering her phone. Linny always kept it charged in case something came up with Bear.

And Bear always knew when something was wrong with Mama.

I was worried about her driving in this. I had offered to come and pick her up. I knew something was going to go wrong. Damn it. And damn that husband of hers. He knew she was working herself sick and refused to do anything about it — kept saying it was her problem and she needed to figure it out. Dan was always more than happy to benefit from Linny’s hard work and spent money like water, but couldn’t be bothered to pitch in when things got tight. I loathed that man.

But Linny always saw the good in people — for better or worse. I could tell she had gotten tired of his behavior. But Linny always believed that if she just worked harder, everything would right itself.

I never knew where she came to that notion, but she lived it every day. And now she was three hours late with no communication.

I tried to stay calm for Bear, but I was praying so hard inside.

And then I got the call.

The call that no parent should ever receive.

What happened next flew by in a flurry of motion and talking.

I got Bear bundled into the car and down to the station. We would need to see the body. For a split second I thought about calling Dan, and then I remembered how he was around his son. Bringing him to see his mother’s body was not good. Having his father escalate an already bad situation into something unforgettable was much worse.

I didn’t bother calling.

And the truth was, Dan would probably be relieved now that there wasn’t anyone to argue with him about pitching in at home or with his son.

When we got to the station, they told me that it had happened suddenly. Linny hadn’t felt any pain. She probably hadn’t even known. It was her heart. She had been under so much stress lately.

She had chalked her chest pain and tightness up to the bronchitis. I had been worried, but Linny wouldn’t listen to me. It turned out that her heart just couldn’t take any more pressure.

Bear just stood staring at her lying there. He had shut down completely, and I knew it. Bear didn’t talk much usually, but now he was dead quiet.

The people at the station said things, and I tried to listen.

I would need to plan — cremation or burial. Did she have insurance? All of the questions. I sat dazed through them all. I knew they were trying to help.

My mind jumped ahead to what I knew was coming. Dan would fight me for custody of Bear. Dan thought himself a perfect father, regardless of reality. I would need a lawyer.

Over the next few months, I would plan and execute my only child’s funeral and fight her deadbeat husband for custody of a child with special needs that he had no intention of meeting. Everyone knew that Bear would land in foster care if Dan got custody. It’s who Dan was.

I don’t know how Dan afforded the lawyer that he did, but he won.

And sure enough, after much neglect — Bear had been 168 pounds at five feet tall when Dan took over raising him — when Dan dropped Bear off at the group home six months after getting custody, they told me that he weighed 78 pounds and was completely nonverbal.

Bear had bruises all over him and looked as though he hadn’t been bathed regularly. His teeth hadn’t been brushed, and he wasn’t cleaned up from bathroom trips. When the workers had tried to come near him, he would just scream.

I cried then.

I didn’t cry — but I cried then.

I cried so hard.

I failed Linny so much, and I failed Bear.

Bear would be institutionalized now.

I visited when they allowed.

Dan had disappeared after selling Linny’s business that she had worked on for over a decade. He dismantled everything she built and hurt the people she loved.

Why, oh why, did she have to work that hard?

…....

I jolted awake.

My chest was on fire, and my face was wet.

Dear God.

And I knew.

My dad used to get dreams of the future.

I knew I had just had a premonition.

I clutched the steering wheel and stared at the three red lights up ahead, swaying slightly in the wind and snow — like ghost lights.