Beta Persei

“Record breaking amounts of snow… The worst storm we have seen in over 40 years, with temperatures dipping into life-threatening territory…" The radio host drones on as I finish stuffing the freezer and exhale the breath I had been holding onto. I’ve checked all of the boxes, I know that I have everything I need. I’ve stocked up plenty of food from my harvest, tested the generator, and gathered several large barrels of water- if only I had someone to satiate my unrelenting solitude.

The first night I ever spent at this house, I hardly slept. I stood outside in awe, enveloped in stories printed boldly in stars, my picture book in the sky. Before bed, as long as I listened, they never forgot to read to me. Their tales twisted narrowly each night- Over time, the patterns became familiar to me. I’ve made friends with an archer, a king and queen, a lion; even a river. Although I don’t dare go out this very night, I let it whisper to me through the windows.

My eyes returned to focus looking out of a barred window, now turning my attention to the lifeless landscape in stark contrast to the vivacious atmosphere. My crops have been wiped clean, the soil replaced with a cold, blank sheet. I shiver at the thought of going out there, though the warmth quickly returns to the kitchen once more as a savory aroma fills the air.

I mix ingredients together in a large bowl and occasionally glance over at the recipe's page- in a cookbook filled cover-to-cover with my very own writing. In reality, I don’t need help remembering at all. I've memorized each and every measurement, though admittedly- I simply enjoy admiring my work. Though I've long been alone, I still reminisce on the days that I could share my cooking with loved ones. I sit at my table and try to imagine them as I eat.

“My Dear, how do you manage to create such unique flavors with such simple ingredients? You truly have a gift. Well, I must be the luckiest man alive to have the best cook in the world as my wife.” I try to remember his sweet words, his smile, his eyes- The way they lit up for me, just like the stars do. I can’t get a clear picture in my mind.

Over two decades ago- my late husband, Ron, and I bought this farm. I spend hours each and every day in my beautiful kitchen. Ron helped me renovate it to my liking, fulfilling even my oddest requests. I just have to remember that a piece of him is still with me, I can still speak to him though he isn’t truly here.

After my meal, I dally back into the kitchen to clean up. I finish wiping down the countertops and note a leaking juice from the fridge. If only he was here, he could help me fix that slanting shelf. I throw a towel over the mess before heading to my bedroom. I’ll deal with it in the morning, it’s late and it’s been such an exhausting day.

Before long, I’m awoken from my sleep by a slamming sound at the door. I climb carefully out of my bed and grab the shotgun kept hidden underneath it, before I make my way through the house. The doorknob rattles with each hit. I creep towards the front of the house, my finger running along the trigger. I huff as I realize that I’m getting all wound up over some wind. Starting to lower my weapon, I catch a glimpse of movement outside the window.

A pair of vultures scavenge off in the distance. It’s a wonder how any animal survives out there. I push the door closed, making sure it’s locked and tightly shut so that nothing gets in. Finally, I retreat back to my room and drift off to sleep.

Morning comes and I go straight to making breakfast. Once again, I’m interrupted by a pounding at the door. “Just the wind…” I remind myself. The sound goes on and on and I grow more irritated each time. I slam the knife down, “I oughta board that shut, too.” I storm down to the basement for some spare planks and nails, and as I reach the last step- I see out of the window. a tall figure standing outside, a young man- with snow up to his knees. I drop my supplies and walk slowly to the door, even though I feel my heart pumping from my head to my feet.

How did he get here? My mind is running rampant trying to figure out what to do. Is it worse to leave him out there to wander, or risk bringing him in?

“Who are you? What are you doing out here?” I shout at the door.

His voice shudders violently, “Calder Devland, I work at the hardware store in town. Car broke down, couldn’t fix it. I’m lost. Please help me, I don’t want to die out here.”

I stand frozen, trying to decide. I could use help with the animals. I fear they won’t make it though this winter. The goats are getting old, and though I can no longer milk them, they are my only company these days.

“Ma’am,” Calder emphasizes, “I have a family back home. My wife and daughter will be worried sick. I promise I won’t hurt you, please, please, please help me.”

Despite seeing clearly the grown man, and potential threat in front of me, I linger on the idea that I never got the chance to become a grandma, My children would be his age by now, his daughter would be my great-granddaughter. I cannot even fathom how it could feel to have such a thing.

“I’m Lora. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Calder, wrapped in a blanket, tremors still. I guide home to sit in front of the fireplace, projecting an orange light on each wall of the dim living room. The fire crackles peacefully as it revives the house. The wind, in jealousy, tries to reach us, howling and thrashing as if throwing a tantrum- I ignore her cries. I bustle around the kitchen excitedly. Pulling a steaming tray out of the oven, stirring a pot on the stove, and reaching towards a whistling kettle to remove it from the burner- I hum quietly to myself.

With a gasp I jerk my hand back, having brushed hot metal with the side of my hand. Calder jumps up, “Are you alright?”

“Just a little burn.” I use my other hand to carefully pour the hot water into a mug for some herbal tea. Instinctually, I bring a stinging finger to my lips trying to relieve the pain.

“Let me get you some ice-“ the man reaches for the freezer door, waving my hand in dismissal. “Don’t bother.” I sigh, “I don’t keep ice, I suppose I should.”

“No worries. Though it’s such a shame… I doubt there’s anywhere that could we possibly obtain some ice from at this moment….” He says, turning his head dramatically to the door.

I couldn’t help but laugh, he joined in. Standing there in the kitchen, until tears filled both of our eyes, until my ribs ached. I don’t remember the last time I laughed.

Calder scarfs down every bit of food I put in front of him, with no hesitation. I bring him as much as he can eat, unsure of when I’ll get the opportunity again. He speaks again for the first time since sitting down for the meal. “This is incredible… I mean, I really lucked out here. Is there some way I could repay you?”

“No need. You have no idea how much you’re doing for me.”

He looks around, unsatisfied with my answer. Pushing in his chair as he stood, he began to gather up both of our dishes. His plate caught the edge of a salt shaker, spilling it across the table.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that.” Calder shakes his head in embarrassment while scooping the handful of salt into a trash bin.

I wince but try to hold a pleasant expression.

“I can’t allow myself to just be an inconvenience. I really can be pretty handy. I’ve been doing carpentry for as long as I can remember, it’s the family trade. I’m sure there’s something I could fix.”

Placing my hands on my hips, pondering. “Hmm…” I look the room up and down. “I’ll think about it, I’m sure there’s something.”

The man’s expression lifts, “Whatever you need. My wife always has something new she wants done to the house, I will always gladly do it all. It’s kind of like a love-language for me.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” I smile. “My husband, that is. I’m sure you’ll want to get back to your family as soon as possible.”

After showing my guest to the spare bedroom, I go off to do some laundry. The storm shakes the house, I pay no mind as I dump a basket of clothes into the washer. The lights flicker, just before cutting out. All of my appliances shut down, I pause and wait for the generator to kick in. My heart beats faster as minutes pass and the buzzing of electricity has yet returned. I hit the switch several more times in disbelief, before running down to the basement. Flipping the breakers yields no result. No one could possibly predict when conditions will be safe enough to repair the lines.

The portable.

Stored away in a barn on the far edge of my property, the old one has been sitting. The winter has only just begun to peak. How could it fail? If my husband were still here it would have nev…I don’t even know if I can get to it at this point, and make it back. My livestock will surely die without it, but my chances of survival are already stretched thin if everything in my refrigerator and deep freezer warms and spoils all of my food. I worked tirelessly last season to prepare. The snow reaches my waist, and it’s still coming down relentlessly. The barn is on an entirely different acre of land, past a large frozen pond, hidden by mounds of snow.

Taking the steps back up to the main floor I hear footsteps stirring about. My breathing comes to a complete stop. Calder is crouched down, by himself, in my kitchen.

“Ah, sorry if I’m being a nuisance. I noticed a leak from the fridge and I thought-“

“You don’t need to do that.”

I grip his shoulder. “It’s late, the power is out. You should really get some rest.” Candles flicker, dimly illuminating each of our faces.

“Lora, please. It's the least I can do before I try to leave tomorrow, I’ll just take a quick look.”

“Listen, I understand that your family is waiting for you, but there’s no way you’re leaving safely tomorrow. You have to stay and rest. You have to…”

“I can handle-“ He pulls the door, I lunge.

His body seized up. I blink. As I close my eyes, I am met with the darkness again, all alone with myself. A dark, starless night. I try to imagine them, try to possess them in my head, but they don’t let me. They remain free, floating in the atmosphere, for which I can not take captive. They mock me, I demand them to tell me why. Why does everyone else get to keep things in their head?

“You cannot be full of beautiful things because you have no room for them. You are already full, bursting at the seams even. It all had to spill out eventually.”

Furious, I rip the soiled knife back out, tossing it to the sink. The man’s eyes lock onto mine, searching my expression for explanation. His haunting gaze identical to the ones stored in that very refrigerator. The lighting is scarce, but his gaze clearly pierces through.

Now It’s just me, just me, like I was before. My husband had come along, and it wasn’t “just me”- for a while. A long while. Never once did I get to dream in pictures, after all of that waiting. Though my life was perfect, my thoughts were unsubstantial. There was not a thought of it, as the years passed.

I’m sure he got to see all kinds of pretty pictures in his mind as the light left his eyes. Pictures of his family, his home, flowers, sunrise, and the night sky. I start to become aggrieved. Everything happened too early. I hadn’t even found a place to put him yet! Everything, every last thing, is full, full full. Leaking, spilling, bursting out.

My only option is to get the generator. Bundled up, I grab my shovel, and begin pushing my way through the snow, climbing and sinking, as fast as my body will move. I can see but a few inches in front of me. My heart pounds, I worry of losing any of the meat, let alone all of it. Which way do I need to go again? I’ve walked out to take care of the animals for decades. Muscle memory was nowhere to be found, the shivers take over my whole body. I’m sure I must be closer to the barn by now, just have to keep pushing. Starting to feel hot, I take off my scarf. I’m exhausted, there’s no way of knowing how long I’ve been out at this point. It gets harder to move, but I see the barn. Dropping the shovel, I stumble into the building and collapse in the warmth.

The blizzard continues to rip in and out of the left-open door. I lay there, unable to move. I’ll have to warm up before I attempt to return, but at least there’s a trail back. Managing to kick the door closed, I turn my body to the hogs, where they’ve been grunting and squealing loudly. They’ve begun to tear away at the fencing. I haven’t been able to get out and feed them in 3 days. Reaching for the fence, I attempt to pull myself up. The sudden movement makes my heart pound into my skull, and take me back down to the floor. My breathing starts to become shallow as my chest tightens and I fight to stay awake. In the squinting of my eyes, I see the swine rush over to my body.

“Good… boys, good… easy now…” one large boar begins to gormandize my hand, my arm. Others join in, dragging my body closer and closer into the pen. My heart slams against my ribcage, my whole chest ready to detonate. I exhale a final breath, unable to get one back. As my insides drain, and I become empty, empty, empty, In the middle of a pig pen, the light leaves my eyes. Finally, in the darkness of my mind, I see stars for the very first time.