It was cool for late August, but Jasmine was headed out for a weekend at her favorite place: Silver Creek Park. They had little cabins there, gorgeous hiking trails, and a fabulous breakfast in the tiny restaurant next to the park office. The place was not well-known; she’d found out about it from her cousin Lucy, who’d gone there on her honeymoon. For Jass, living with four female roommates was stifling. Now she'd get some private time with Mother Nature, and maybe some reading done for her first graduate seminar in Contemporary Psychology.
The two-hour drive was smooth. Twenty miles from the park, Jass stopped at a tiny rural convenience store for a few things: lemonade, tampons, and a notebook. The place seemed about to close; the cashier, an older man in a windbreaker and baseball cap, seemed irritated. Jass couldn't find a notebook, so she asked about that. The man pointed to a door at the back of the store. “Some stationery items in there haven’t been put out yet. You’ll have to look. I’m busy.” He hardly glanced at her; he was very distracted.
Jass hurried to the supply room and scanned several metal shelves full of paper and plastic, but no notebooks. The man was probably getting frustrated, so she decided to do without. She turned just in time to see the door slowly closing and heard it click shut. Had the man done that? Or had she accidentally moved a doorstop or something? She tried the handle. It wouldn’t move. She called out, “Hey! I’m still in here!” There was no answer. She looked around for a window; there was none. I’ll have to call someone, she thought, reaching into her purse for her phone. Then she remembered she’d left it in the car.
This CANNOT be happening, Jass thought, starting to breathe faster. It wasn’t that she was claustrophobic, it was that she had PLANS. Visions of the cabin she’d reserved, and memories of the views, the woods, and of Silver Creek itself--cascading at a gentle angle for nearly fifty yards in a wide, boulder-filled sandy bed that felt so good on bare toes--had filled her mind while driving. And now it had been yanked from her at the click of a lock! She tried the handle again. It must be stuck; why would it lock automatically? Because precious STUFF is in here, she thought, angrily. She let out a growl and grabbed the first thing she saw and threw it onto the concrete floor. It was an eight-pack of dinner napkins, and did not make a sound. She saw some loose plastic cups, reached out and hurled them. There was a slight clatter.
“If only I hadn’t...if only I hadn’t...” Hadn’t what? Stopped here at all? Yes, or wanted a notebook. Or left her phone in the car! By now Jass was breathing so fast she felt faint. Her hands were tingling. She knew all about anxiety, but she had to say the words aloud: “SLOW DOWN!” That changed her state, but not positively. Gasps and sobs came forth, filling the space; it seemed to last for hours, but she finally stopped, exhausted. She found a stepladder in a corner and sat.
What to do? She got up and tried the door handle again. She returned to sitting. She sighed. She pondered, out of habit, “How can I make the best use of my time?” but had no answer. Would she have to sleep here? Would 16 ounces of lemonade be enough to sustain her? What had been wrong with that old man? What if she had to pee? Or worse? Ah, at least she had tampons, just in case. So much for her weekend away.
At that moment, the door made a noise and then opened. It was the old man. “I just remembered that I didn’t ring you up,” he said matter-of-factly. “Did you find a notebook?”
Jass was so surprised that she just said, “Nope. No notebooks.” Out in the store, she looked at the clock on the wall. It had been ten minutes. She’d been in that room only ten minutes. The old man rang up the lemonade and tampons and put them in a bag. “Umm, I’m trying not to use plastic,” Jass said. The man found a paper bag.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said. “Call of nature.”
— Macoff
The two-hour drive was smooth. Twenty miles from the park, Jass stopped at a tiny rural convenience store for a few things: lemonade, tampons, and a notebook. The place seemed about to close; the cashier, an older man in a windbreaker and baseball cap, seemed irritated. Jass couldn't find a notebook, so she asked about that. The man pointed to a door at the back of the store. “Some stationery items in there haven’t been put out yet. You’ll have to look. I’m busy.” He hardly glanced at her; he was very distracted.
Jass hurried to the supply room and scanned several metal shelves full of paper and plastic, but no notebooks. The man was probably getting frustrated, so she decided to do without. She turned just in time to see the door slowly closing and heard it click shut. Had the man done that? Or had she accidentally moved a doorstop or something? She tried the handle. It wouldn’t move. She called out, “Hey! I’m still in here!” There was no answer. She looked around for a window; there was none. I’ll have to call someone, she thought, reaching into her purse for her phone. Then she remembered she’d left it in the car.
This CANNOT be happening, Jass thought, starting to breathe faster. It wasn’t that she was claustrophobic, it was that she had PLANS. Visions of the cabin she’d reserved, and memories of the views, the woods, and of Silver Creek itself--cascading at a gentle angle for nearly fifty yards in a wide, boulder-filled sandy bed that felt so good on bare toes--had filled her mind while driving. And now it had been yanked from her at the click of a lock! She tried the handle again. It must be stuck; why would it lock automatically? Because precious STUFF is in here, she thought, angrily. She let out a growl and grabbed the first thing she saw and threw it onto the concrete floor. It was an eight-pack of dinner napkins, and did not make a sound. She saw some loose plastic cups, reached out and hurled them. There was a slight clatter.
“If only I hadn’t...if only I hadn’t...” Hadn’t what? Stopped here at all? Yes, or wanted a notebook. Or left her phone in the car! By now Jass was breathing so fast she felt faint. Her hands were tingling. She knew all about anxiety, but she had to say the words aloud: “SLOW DOWN!” That changed her state, but not positively. Gasps and sobs came forth, filling the space; it seemed to last for hours, but she finally stopped, exhausted. She found a stepladder in a corner and sat.
What to do? She got up and tried the door handle again. She returned to sitting. She sighed. She pondered, out of habit, “How can I make the best use of my time?” but had no answer. Would she have to sleep here? Would 16 ounces of lemonade be enough to sustain her? What had been wrong with that old man? What if she had to pee? Or worse? Ah, at least she had tampons, just in case. So much for her weekend away.
At that moment, the door made a noise and then opened. It was the old man. “I just remembered that I didn’t ring you up,” he said matter-of-factly. “Did you find a notebook?”
Jass was so surprised that she just said, “Nope. No notebooks.” Out in the store, she looked at the clock on the wall. It had been ten minutes. She’d been in that room only ten minutes. The old man rang up the lemonade and tampons and put them in a bag. “Umm, I’m trying not to use plastic,” Jass said. The man found a paper bag.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said. “Call of nature.”
— Macoff
I was holding my breath. I am so glad the ending took the innocent path instead of the darker possibility. Well done. Love your writing.
ReplyDeleteThat was terrifying without a single bit of violence!!! Great writing.
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