Cabin Fever

Chapter 1

Swallowing past emotions had never been a strong suit of mine. In fact, asking for such a thing only made it harder. I reached over to the tissue box sitting prominently on the coffee table, blowing my nose and reminding myself for what felt like the fiftieth time that day that things were going to change. That life wouldn't always be like this. I eventually surmised that grief was weird. It ebbed and flowed at the oddest of times.

The Christmas season only made the feelings and emotions harder to sort through. Broken relationships are not something I would wish on anyone, but right now the pain of one in particular was hitting a nerve I did not want to deal with. I warmed up water to make some tea. As the kettle heated, I stared across the room as the twinkling Christmas tree lights. I stood, almost statuesque, grief only digging deeper, boring its unwelcome self into my soul. It was a strange grief, one that I'd become far too acquainted with years ago when my serious boyfriend and I had broken up and I'd felt like hope for marriage, children, or anything else was completely lost and shattered.

The kettle whistled, pulling me out of my trance. I glanced around the loft, this place that I'd called home for a few years. It had become my haven, a place where I entertained friends, my own private dance studio where I could cut loose after a bad date or at the end of a terrible day, it was the sacred space where I could write, a place where I could hear myself think. It also provided a safe space where I could test recipes and become a gourmet cook. It was my home.

After a few years of not decorating for Christmas and a short lived internal debate, I had decided to decorate for Christmas this year. If nothing else, I resolved that my heart needed it. So I'd dug through old boxes, looking for anything that resembled decorations. Resolving not to have this problem again, I eventually broke down and bought some new and thrifted decorations, bringing my distinctive style of old and new to the turn of the century old brick building. The place I called home was an old factory that had been converted into lofts many years ago in an attempt to revitalize an older more run down part of the city.

I loved my home and all its quirkiness. The pieces of furniture all had stories to tell, from the dents and abrasions in the wood, to the scratches in the leather, it was all beautiful in my mind and it was exactly what made the place uniquely me. Over the years I'd collected some cozy rugs and soft blankets, each adding their own level of warmth and softness to the brick walls and wood floors.

My nose was runny from the tears that I was refusing admittance to my eyes tonight. I sniffled as I sank into the worn leather of my sofa, not relinquishing my firm hold on the mug of tea I'd just made. Chessie, my beautiful Golden Retriever, settled at my feet. No sooner than I'd calmed myself, my cell phone buzzed, jolting me back to reality. A quick glance at the clock offered the notion that it was far later than it should be for anyone without a good reason to be calling. The number puzzled me and seemed vaguely familiar. Tapping the answer button, I blatantly ignored the time and the fact that I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" I answered into the microphone, much more quizzically than normal, willing for someone of substance to be on the other end. "Joy?" The voice of an older man crackled on the other end. Surprise flooded my mind and heart as I immediately recognized the voice. "Uncle Mike?" "Hi sweetheart." The tears I'd so adamantly refused earlier now shoved their way to the surface with avengencance. "Hi." "You've been on my mind for the past several weeks. Is everything okay?" I leaned back into the couch cushions, shaking my head in near disbelief, a small smile cracking across my lips. "Uh yeah... I'm having a bit of a go at some things tonight, but overall things are good." Try as I might to keep my voice light, it cracked and the tears began to break through the receiver. I sniffled and swallowed in a poor attempt to keep my emotions out of tonight's conversation. Gratefully the other end of the line stayed quiet. "I think I need to figure out a few things." I paused, pushing a smile onto my face. "But, yeah, I'll be okay." I offered, finally gaining a semblance of control over my rampant emotions.