The Raventown Woods

Chapter Three

Warmth is strange. It can be comforting, yet muggy. Welcoming, but also dreadful. It is a necessity until it is not. The polarizing essence of warmth is applicable to love, which in retrospect consists of the heart's warmth. I myself have lived on both ends of love's spectrum. Like warmth, love shifts, distorts, and becomes divided when the environment transitions.

As a child spending my summers at my grandparent's cabin, I sensed the polarity of heat, literally and spiritually, from a very young age. Happily chasing frogs by the nearby lake in the vernal midday sun only to sob during the frigid night because I still felt the sun's rays stinging my toasted skin. Then, as I grew older, having my first kiss by the same lake as the frogs croaked nearby. I could feel the warmth of the kiss on my lips, but it seeped deeper into the depths of my mind and soul. I presume that is why the unexplained rejection after that wistful summer startled my insides as if a bucket of freezing water was dumped onto my soul. I was young; the teenage relationship was trivial compared to the cavernous ridge erupted by the robbery of my grandparents' warmth by Death's cold and woeful hand.

The mugginess of today's unexpected humid spring day pulls my thoughts to this deliberation as Ivy and I drive up the interstate highway in my battered but enduring Prius. Tall buildings rapidly wisp by in a blur as we cruise through the existing but minimal traffic. As I take the exit to a less-trafficked highway, the edifices become lanky and eventually morph into towering pine trees which backdrop small convenience stores on the sides of the shrunken two-lane road.

The pine needles seep through the A/C ventilation into my nostrils, causing me to sneeze by the sudden change of the air's scent. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second as my wind transcends from my insides out, and I am suddenly staring into the eyes of a monstrous eighteen-wheeler in our direct path ready to claim our lives.

No time to react with speech, I swerve to my left onto the opposing traffic lane since the truck is on my right-of-way, but another vehicle materializes in that lane as well. I do not adjust to the lane's conformation, instead opting to steer perpendicular to the road onto a grassy path of meadow on the side. Ivy shrieks as my car becomes projected midair off the road, plastering on the flowery field. Our seatbelts keep us at bay, but we are nevertheless physically and emotionally shaken once the car sits still on the ground.

The silence from my concentration is slowly overpowered by Ivy's shaky sounds. I glance my eyes and see she has both hands on the dashboard, eyes bloodshot, but with no signs of injuries, thankfully. My hands still clutch the steering wheel; my knuckles are white. I abruptly let go and the clamminess from my hands mingles with the humid air intensified by our moist breaths of fear. My senses stabilize after the shot of adrenaline ceases, and I quickly unbuckle myself.

"Oh my god," I gasp, my voice hoarse for some reason. I thought I was going to die, I internalize. For some reason, I feel like I did not fear the idea. "Are you okay, Ivy?"

"Yeah, I..." she unbuckles herself as well and runs her hand down her curly hair. She's paler than usual and her freckles are much more distinguishable like chocolate chips on a sugar cookie. "I feel okay. What about you? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt," I say. My hands are still shaking a bit so I once again clamp them down on the steering wheel for the time being. "I'm so sorry I freaked you out. I sneezed and the next thing I see is that eighteen-wheeler on our lane. I reacted as best as I could and swerved us off the road to avoid hitting other cars."

"Kiara but-" begins Ivy but I cut her off.

"I know I should've been more attentive to the road. I am so sorry. It's just that I guess I'm not thinking straight and..."

"I know you're going through a lot of stress but-" she tries to resume.

"...this is all too much for me. I don't know what I'm going do." I feel those pesky tears threatening to spill once again.