Something Like Winter (29 page)

Tim hobbled over to the
snowmobile, which hadn’t fared so well. A large piece of the
fiberglass shell had broken off, as had one of the handlebars.
Worse than that, the tread that gave the vehicle traction had torn
loose. As much as he loved cars, Tim was no mechanic. The
snowmobile was useless to him.

He patted his jacket
pockets, searching for his phone before he groaned, remembering he
had never picked it up off the floor. So much for help. Tim would
have to walk, and he needed to start soon if he was going to stay
warm. He hesitated, trying to decide how far he had traveled. His
journey out here was a blur. He could be just a few miles from
Colorado Springs for all he knew, but in the end, he decided he
should retrace the path the snowmobile had made. If he tried going
forward while disorientated, he might end up lost or dead. Limping
over the hill, he found the drift that had launched him into space
and began making his way back to the cabin.

Chapter
Seventeen

Cold. No matter how fast he
walked—even when sprinting up a hill so fast it left him dizzy—Tim
was cold. With no sense of time, he didn’t know how long he’d been
walking, but now he was sure he’d been close to town when he
wrecked the snowmobile. Judging from the way the snowmobile tracks
weaved back and forth, he was drunker than he thought, probably
since breakfast had been his last meal.

Something else was wrong.
Tim’s right arm was soaked, the inside of his sleeve drenched, but
not in sweat. He was sure he was bleeding from his wound, but
didn’t dare strip off his jacket to check lest more of winter’s
death touch his skin. Snow brings silence, and as Tim slipped and
fell more and more often, he was sure that silence was coming for
him.

Reaching the valley nearest
the cabin, Tim picked up the pace, his breath shallow, hardly
showing in the air as heat anymore. When he crested another hill
and saw the cabin, he made a joyous croaking noise, feeling like
his mother had finally noticed him crying with a scuffed knee and
picked him up. Tim fought off a wave of exhaustion, his thoughts
barely making sense anymore. All he knew was that he needed to get
inside the place of light and warmth.

Tim hit the door in a panic
to get it open, terrified that he would be locked out. The door
opened and he stumbled inside, struggling with choices. Fireplace.
Hot tub. Sauna. Shower. That last one sounded the best. Tim
stripped as he walked toward the bathroom, every part of him numb
except his arm, which screamed with pain. He glanced at it once his
jacket was off and saw a mess of dried and fresh blood, but he
refused to look further. Not until he was warm and the blood was
washed away.

The shower water felt hot
to his frozen skin, even when he first turned it on, but as soon as
he saw steam he stepped beneath the flow. He ached as sensation
returned, blood flowing again and his arm stinging because of the
open wound. He tried to keep it sheltered from the water’s direct
impact while he cleaned it. The wound was worse than he had
imagined. The stick hadn’t just punctured him; it had left a five
inch tear in his skin. Even as water washed away the blood, more
was still flowing.

Tim felt dizzy, on the
threshold of passing out. He pressed against the shower wall until
he was steady again. Then he shut off the water, grabbed a towel,
and barely patted himself dry before wrapping it tightly around his
upper arm to slow the bleeding.

Please let there be a first
aid kit! Tim had seen a freaking apple corer in the kitchen. If
they had that, then surely they also kept bandages or something
here. He checked the medicine cabinet, which was empty, then under
the sink, where a white plastic box with a red cross on it became
the world’s most valuable treasure. He grabbed it and shifted
through the contents, finding antiseptic. How infectious could a
tree be? Instead he went for the gauze, covering the wound with
every bit before wrapping it around with cloth bandage. He made
sure this was tight to stop the blood flow before he taped
it.

Tim stared at the bandages,
waiting for red to seep through. When it didn’t, he looked in the
mirror and nearly flinched at his reflection. His nose was puffy
and swollen, blood and dirt still crusting the edges. Hell, he felt
like each nostril was stuffed full of that combination, but he was
too tired to wash anymore. Heading for the nearest bedroom, Tim
slipped beneath the down comforter. Toasty. Warm. Safe.

When he woke, the day was
bright and the birds were chirping their pretty little heads off.
Tim was shivering, but the comforter was still wrapped around him.
Despite the chill, he was sweating, his head burning hot. His
throat felt like he had swallowed hot powdered glass, so he forced
himself from bed to get a drink. Shoulder and arm throbbing, he
glanced blearily at the bandages which were dark now. He had
probably slept on it and made it bleed again, but he was sure the
dressings were tight enough to stop the blood flow.

Tim cupped his hands under
the bathroom faucet and managed four handfuls before he decided he
wasn’t done sleeping. Just a little more rest, and he would get up
and pull himself together. He probably needed to eat, but the
thought of food turned his stomach. Crawling back into bed, he
covered his head with the extra pillow to shut out the light. When
he opened his eyes again, the pillow was gone and the room was
dark. The birds had fallen silent.

Night already? But Tim had
bigger concerns. His entire body felt like it was on fire. He threw
off the blanket and started shivering, his arm throbbing like it
had a heart of its own.

“
I’m so fucked up,” he said
to the room, but he couldn’t hear anything except the television
downstairs, still on after, what? A day? His mind reeled in
confusion. Was Travis sitting down there watching TV? Tim nearly
called out when events caught up to him. He lay in bed, his breath
labored as he tried to make sense of his situation. The cabin had
seemed a sanctuary when they first arrived, warm and full of
potential. Now the room around him had grown dark and
alien.

He would die here if he
didn’t get help. Tim felt sure of it. If he could get downstairs to
his phone, he could call someone, but first he needed to build up
his strength. Tim braced himself to get out of bed but instead
dozed off again. When he jerked awake, outside was still just as
dark, but he heard tires on the gravel drive.

Travis had come back! Sorry
for their fight, sorry for the things he had said, Travis had
turned around and come back. Tim would forgive him, give him
another chance, do anything he could to make it right, and this
sickness would flee his body to be replaced by love.

“
Tim?”

The voice wasn’t right.
When it called out again, he realized he hadn’t answered and
shouted a reply, his throat aching. Footsteps on the stairs, a
light in the hallway. A silhouette filled the door before the lamp
above him switched on. Then he saw the face he wanted to see most,
the one who could make everything right again.

Eric.

“
Are you okay?” Eric
pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”

“
I’ve felt
better.”

“
Can you sit
up?”

Tim nodded and grunted with
effort, the blanket slipping off his chest and exposing his arm.
Eric’s face registered shock, and when Tim followed his gaze, he
saw the black cherry color beneath the bandages and the crust of
blood surrounding them.

“
What happened to
you?”

Tim smacked his lips, mouth
like sandpaper. “I had an accident with the snowmobile. I think I’m
sick.”

Eric’s laugh was manic. “We
need to get you to a hospital! Can you make it to the
car?”

Tim thought so. Now that
Eric was here, his head felt clearer and he realized how fucked up
he was. Taking a walk through the cold, even getting cut, that
didn’t make a person sick. Not like this.

“
Tim?”

“
Huh? Yeah. I can make it.
But stay by me.”

Tim managed to stand. Eric
left the room when he saw Tim was nude and returned with a bathrobe
and slippers. As soon as Tim was covered, Eric put an arm around
him and walked him down the stairs. Tim was doing okay. He could
stand on his own. He just felt like complete shit.

“
I’ll bring the car around
to the door,” Eric said, seating Tim on the shoe bench in the
entryway.

Tim leaned back and closed
his eyes, flinching in surprise when Eric touched him to help him
up and outside. The cold was a nightmare, even though Tim was
fevered, but soon he was in the warmth of a car that smelled like a
rental. Music was on low, Christmas carols coming from the glow of
the radio.

Eric opened the driver’s
side door and hopped in, putting the car in gear and taking them
away from there. “You’re going to be okay,” he said.

Tim closed his eyes again,
comforted by a feeling of home he had long since thought
lost.

* * * * *

Warmth. Not the overbearing
heat of a fever or the chilling bite of cold. Just warmth in
perfect balance, inside and out. Tim’s head hummed with a familiar
sensation, the blissful kiss of opiates. He hadn’t felt this high
since Ben jacked up his ankle.

Tim opened his eyes,
expecting to see his foot in a cast and Ben sitting next to the
hospital bed, jangling the keys of his 3000GT. He was nearly right.
The person seated there was about the same size but a good deal
older, calmly reading a newspaper folded in half.

Tim’s memory was muddled.
He remembered Eric taking him to the hospital and not having to
wait in the emergency room for once. A nurse, or maybe it was a
doctor, gave Tim something that chased away the pain. And
consciousness. Then there were brief flashes of waking up to see
Eric’s concerned face, much like now, his brow crinkled up even as
he read.

“
Hey,” Tim said.

Eric moved the newspaper to
his lap, looking somewhat relieved. “Hey! How are you?”

“
Good.” Tim raised his head
to look himself over. He was wearing a horrible hospital robe. He
started to lift the sleeve so he could check out his arm when he
noticed the tube stuck into his hand. “Oh, man! These things creep
me out!”

“
That’s how they fed you
breakfast,” Eric teased. “Lunch too.”

Tim’s head swam. “Have I
been out that long? What day is it?”

“
The twenty-eighth.” Eric
checked his watch. “Almost four in the afternoon.”

“
Well, that’s three days of
my life gone.”

“
I’m glad it wasn’t more.”
Eric moved the chair closer to the bed, turning it so he was facing
Tim. “What happened to you? I got your call about Travis and kept
calling you back. When you still weren’t answering the next day, I
caught the next flight.”

“
Sorry,” Tim said. “Once
Travis left I made some stupid decisions. I feel bad making you
come all this way.”

Eric shook his head as if
it didn’t matter. “On the phone you said you had a fight with
Travis and he left. Sounds serious.”

“
Permanent,” Tim corrected.
“Travis chose fear. I don’t think there’s any hope at this point. I
really don’t.”

“
I’m sorry.” Eric leaned
back, glancing out the window where two birds swooped through the
air, chasing each other. “Do you love him?”

Tim swallowed. “No. I don’t
think so. But I could have, you know? He’s the first person since
Ben who could have meant something. I thought I understood where he
was coming from, but I guess not.”

Eric, to his credit, didn’t
lecture Tim about other fish in the sea. Instead he nodded at Tim’s
upper arm. “What happened there? The doctor pulled out a lot of
splinters.”

Tim remembered the injury
and checked it out. The area was clean now, purple from bruising,
and stitched up with black thread. He was going to have one hell of
a scar. He pulled the robe sleeve over the injury and found Eric
still waiting for an answer. “I sort of downed a bottle of wine and
thought I’d take one of the snowmobiles through the woods to town.
It’s still out there somewhere. Trashed.”

Eric closed his eyes and
shook his head.

“
I’ll pay for the damages,”
Tim said quickly.

“
I don’t care about the
snowmobile,” Eric said with a glare. “You could have killed
yourself!”

“
I wasn’t trying to,” Tim
said. “I mean, I’m not suicidal or anything.”

“
No, you’re just young. And
stupid.” Eric exhaled his worry and took Tim’s hand. “Don’t worry.
Love, or even just infatuation, has a diminishing effect on
intelligence. It’s lucky you still remember how to
speak.”

Tim made some ape noises to
show how far gone he was. Eric laughed.

“
Next time I plan a
romantic get-away,” Tim said, “I’m taking you with me instead.
Forget the stupid frat boys.” He didn’t care how Eric took this. He
wasn’t even sure what he meant. Tim just knew there was one person
in his life most worthy of spending time with, which he intended to
do.

“
I’m flattered,” Eric said,
comically fanning himself with his newspaper as if he were
overheating. “If you insist on courting me, you can start by
inviting me to dinner. I understand this establishment has won
Michelin Stars for its phenomenal Jell-O
a
la carte!
”