Snow filled her apartment and pressed down on her toes, making her feel like her feet were in icy plastic bags. She tried to go around the side of the building, but her feet got stuck in deep loose snow. It was almost up to her knees, and the part of her brain that didn’t register signs of an opioid overdose registered the amount of snow in shock.
She moved on, drawing signs in her mind. I don’t wake up and don’t respond to my voice or touch. Is breathing slow, irregular, or stopped? Are your pupils small? Blue lips? She felt her body shiver from the cold. Her own lips might be blue in this weather now, but how could she know if it was blue from an overdose or from the cold? The snow writhed under the tail of her shirt and slid down the back of her trousers. She kept moving, oblivious to her laborious progress, continuing to grasp the remnants of the lessons she had learned. Slow heartbeat? Weak pulse? A chill ran down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the wet cardigan clinging to her skin. What to do if the guy is not breathing? Should she be given CPR first? A knot tightened in her stomach, and her brain was suddenly empty of everything she had learned in this lesson. Pine branches hung down like thick curtains, blocking her view of the man inside. The branch was bent more than Nora had imagined because of the tree, its pine needles resting on the snow, which was heaped up with green needles clinging to the ground with their weight.
Through the sodden branches, she could only make out his figure, lying on a thick trunk, her heart beating so fast that her lungs constricted. When she was nine years old, she plunged into the afternoon again, taking out the trash every Monday. There was no snow, but it was so cold that the air was hazy with her breath, and she was so focused that she didn’t notice Mario lying in the brown grass, the zombie from her nightmares. She screamed so loudly that the neighbor’s dog began to howl. You saved his life, the paramedics later told her.
She pushed her stiff limbs away and found herself hiding under a tree, pushing Mario’s thoughts aside to make room for the box in her hand and the man on the ground. The snow in the sheltered space was relatively shallow, and in a few seconds she was next to it, her thoughts buzzing. Put people on their backs. Take the device out of the box and remove the plastic. It all seems as simple as stopping an idiot from overdosing on opioids in class. But that doesn’t take into account the once-in-a-decade blizzard or how cold your fingers got to grip the little plastic corners of the package. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Calm down, Nora! She went ahead. Check it out first. He lay at an odd angle, leaning low against a tree trunk. Her brother’s skin was gray, his lips dark blue, and she was sure he was dead. If you hadn’t found me, they said, I’d be dead, and later he let out a hoarse voice from his hospital bed. I don’t know what I would do without you Peaches.
The man’s lips were blue and his eyes were closed so she couldn’t see his pupils. She placed two fingers on his wrist, but finding his pulse with her cold fingertips seemed an impossible task, so she rested her head on his chest, ignoring the wool mixed with his coat, the damp smells in the fabrics. His heart was beating, but slowly—too slowly, she thought—and his breath sounded like a wave that never reached the shore.
“Nora?” She didn’t turn around. Even at such moments, Frodo’s voice is still recognizable, and Nora is so far from her union that she feels like a stranger to herself.
Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Каждую неделю The Colorado Sun и Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book публикуют отрывок из колорадской книги и интервью с автором. Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book publish an excerpt from the Colorado book and an interview with the author. Each week, the Colorado Sun and the Colorado Center for the Humanities and Books publish excerpts from Colorado’s books and interviews with the authors. Explore the SunLit archives at coloradosun.com/sunlit.
“I think this man overdosed,” she says, her teeth chattering, her words stuttering. “We have to keep him on his back at all times.”
Frado did it, and Nora was grateful that she wasn’t alone, even with someone who knew better than she did how to save someone from an overdose. The class was helpful but also soothing and relaxing, not at all realistic. In fact, it was the stench of tough grass on her knees, the stink of garbage bags crackling around her, the screams of aunts, and the sound of ambulance headlights splashing on her brother’s zombified face.
She fumbled for the bag, the tiny edges of the plastic slipping from her wet fingers until she screamed in frustration. “pancake!”
She slipped it into her hand, placing her thumb on the piston and two fingers on either side of the nozzle, which swung through the air, shaking her muscles. She didn’t want this man to die. Not when she can do something to save him. Why is he here, dying, alone? Does he have a wife who mourns for him? son? Have they ever been on the streets like her, feeling it was useless to look for someone in the hole that is getting bigger and bigger in their chest? She won’t let him die, but she fears it’s too late.
She ran her hand up his neck, lifted his head and inserted the nozzle into his left nostril until her fingers touched his nose, then pressed down on the plunger.
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She pulled him by the shoulders, Frodo pushed him in the back, and they quickly moved the man to his side, and she put her hand under his head. Nora looked into his face, waiting for signs of the drug’s action. It could happen quickly, or it could take a few minutes—she remembered that part. Mario’s body thrashed like a fish as they squeezed his chest again and again. He didn’t answer, he was dead.
The man’s skin looks gray. She felt a pain in her jaw, which she ignored as she waited, how cold she was and…
Frado nodded, took out his phone from his pocket and entered the numbers. Yes, hi, this is…
At that moment, the man sat up, his eyes were red, his skin was pale, but not as gray as before, and the blue on his lips disappeared. He knocked the phone out of Frodo’s hand. He landed on the snow. “No, no hospital. I’m fine, damn, I’m fine.”
He pushed himself up until his knees buckled and his hands were on the ground, as if he might fall. Nora’s arms are outstretched but floating in the air, not fully in contact with the man, but ready to support him if he starts to fall. Frodo picked up the phone and looked at Nora, as if waiting for her decision.
“Lewis, huh? I think you overdosed. I miss you, uh…” She began to shake violently, adrenaline seeping out of her, leaving wind-chilled muscles and skin numb like a wet blanket. Put it on her.
Lewis glanced at her, then turned as if surveying the area: Frodo, the phone, the snow, his library card, and a rolled-up dollar bill next to a plastic bag on the floor. Slowly and clumsily, he grabbed the bill and bag and slipped them into his pocket, then sat on his heels, roughly rubbing his face with one hand.
Nora stared at his pocket, surprised to see him protecting something that nearly killed him, and felt a little nauseous. She blinked. “Sir, you should be examined by a paramedic to make sure you’re all right. When this medicine runs out, you may still overdose. And we need to get you out of a ch-cold” – tormenting her body with shivers – used she is. He hugged her, trying to warm her. The coat draped over her shoulders was too warm, and she breathed in the smell of apples and some forest man. She shuddered, thankful for the respite from the cold air, and noticed that Frado, without a coat, was standing over her with a phone in his ear.
“She gave him something in the nose. Yes. He woke up, sitting and talking. Everything is fine”.
Frodo took the phone out of his ear. “They could not find anyone who could come to us at the moment. The roads were closed and there were big accidents everywhere. They said let him in and watch him.”
Lewis stood up, but leaned heavily against a tree. Nora noticed his hands—thick calluses, the skin on his fingertips torn and hard—and her chest began to ache at the thought of how much it must hurt him.
“It has cc-offee, tt-ea and hot chocolate,” she says through numb lips. She remembered the day last week when he went to the toilet. How he kept his head down and hardly ever met her eyes, as if he didn’t exist if she couldn’t see him, as if he was invisible. “It’s very cold in here, Lewis. I could use something warm. Ha, and you?
His eyes seemed to be fixed on her sodden trousers and flimsy shoes, but he still didn’t look at her. A deep weariness marked wide lines on his cheeks, and behind it Nora felt that something was giving way.
There was a loud bang above their heads, then a whistle, and not far from the tree where they had gathered, a huge branch fell to the ground. Nora couldn’t believe her eyes.
She nodded and turned to Lewis. “Please, Lewis, come with us. Please?” She heard dull desperation in her voice. Desperate because she knew she couldn’t leave him here to freeze to death, but she didn’t know how to get him in without hurting anyone. She was already thinking about her brother. How she had not seen him for many years and only occasionally heard of him. Her hands clenched into fists. She should have let Lewis in. This time she tried to keep her tone light. – There is coffee. Wouldn’t it be nice to have something warm to drink now?
Lewis turned away from them, turned around, and for a second her heart pounded, she thought he was leaving, but then he stopped and seemed to change his mind. “Good,” he said.
Nora exhaled, releasing the temporary warmth. – All right, Lewis. Okay, okay, let’s go then, okay? I even promise I won’t give you a new library card.
Frodo snorted, and Nora saw the man’s shoulders rise and fall. Sigh? laugh? It’s OK. All she cared about was getting him.
Frodo led the way and they walked slowly out from under the tree into the deeper snow, the wind blowing wet flakes into her eyes and mouth and seeing nothing but white until they reached the library. Nora entered and found that all hell had been destroyed.
“Nora!” Marlene stood at Nora’s desk, her hand holding Jasmine’s. “I told you, this girl is not good.
Nora wants Lewis to calm down, then sits down in a chair, takes off her rubber boots and drinks a cup of hot tea. She didn’t want to deal with Marlene. But the girl looked angry and frightened, and for a moment Nora saw herself kneeling on the grass – with tears on her cheeks, her mouth twisted – watching Mario leave on a stretcher. She gritted her teeth, and today, not for the first time, she hoped for Charlie. He would know how to talk to Marlene.
Nora approached them, keeping her eyes on the old woman. When she spoke, there was a coldness in her voice. “Get your hand off her, Marlene. Immediately.
Marlene looked at the girl and pulled back, releasing her, apparently surprised that she had even grabbed her hand. “Oh, but she stole the book, Nora. “I know she doesn’t do nice things, she does drugs in the library, she talks on the phone, she wears hats,” she said, as if she thought these actions were just as wrong, but not as enthusiastic.
At that moment, the lights flickered on and off again, and all the cell phones in the room howled piercingly. Marlene jumped up.
Frodo picked up the phone. “This is a weather warning. The storms are strong and the roads are even worse. Everyone is advised to stay where they are.”
Marlene went to the window and looked out. “I told you,” she said, her voice older and weaker than the forces of nature Nora knew. “Like the storm of 2003, only worse.”
Wind and snow beat against the windows, the lights went out and shadows filled the corners of the old library like mold. Memories of old storms spread with the changing light. It rippled in the air around her, dancing with the panic and fear that had become her familiar companion, her brother outside, alone and suffering, and there was nothing she could do.
“My grandmother wants to know if I can stay here until she comes for me?” Molly glanced sideways at Marlene, clenching her teeth. “It’s not that I want to hang out anywhere near her, but that my father is out of town and I don’t want my grandmother to be here. She has very poor eyesight.”
Nora appreciated the people around her. Jasmine fiddled with the drawstring on her sweatshirt, pulling it in one side and pulling it in the other. The girl looked no more than fifteen years old, and she was probably embarrassed, like a teenage child, in front of so many unfamiliar adults, especially one accusing her of stealing, and another full of thorns in the narrow entrance stinks. Lewis slid to the ground, leaning back against the door frame, exhausted. He chuckled and glanced at Nora. “I think you said there would be coffee.”
Frodo leaned against Lewis, arms crossed over his chest, and looked at Nora with an expression she did not quite understand. His brown hair was wet and his smile was warm when their eyes met.
At the window, Marlene seemed to be lost in thought as she gazed at the snowflakes. “I dug for three days in a row before I found my car,” she said. “Without a week of power outage, I had to melt the snow to get water.”
The latest storm is just the beginning. What followed was a series of painful recoveries and relapses, hope and homelessness, with Nora’s brother in little pieces, then in big pieces, like a building crumbling with time. This storm is no different, as Mario is injured somewhere alone and Nora can do something about it.
She glanced at Lewis, his hands moving back and forth on his fists as if the feeling had just returned to them. The only difference with this storm is that it’s with the likes of Lewis, Marlene and Jasmine who need a safe place. That’s what she can give them, that’s what she can do.
Nora smiled, clapped her hands, and said, “Is there a better place to get stuck than the library?”
Melissa Payne is the best-selling author of Secrets of the Lost Stone, Drifting Memories, and A Night with Multiple Endings. Her upcoming novel is The Light in the Forest. Melissa lives in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and three children, a friendly mongrel and a very noisy cat. For more information, visit www.melissapayneauthor.com or find her on Instagram @melissapayne_writes.
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Post time: Oct-22-2022