Cold Front by Kathleen Taylor

Author:Kathleen Taylor [Taylor, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kathleen Taylor
Published: 2012-07-20T15:02:44+00:00

20. Black and White and Read All Over

Isolation is not a new concept to a citizenry accustomed to a population density of less than 0.5 person per square mile. People who are overwhelmed by the vast and empty silence of the open plains don't stick around long enough to get lonely.

Those of us who do stay (by choice or otherwise) have not only our own vain stoicism to carry us through, we also have repeated comparisons to pioneers who managed to survive a far more hostile and unpopulated environment without the aid of sports utility vehicles, compact discs, and the Weather Channel.

In our day-to-day life, the notion of being alone is neither foreign nor frightening. But every once in a while Mother Nature reminds us in a big way exactly how far we are from real civilization, and from those amenities we take for granted.

Like timely deliveries from the USPS.

"There wouldn't have been any mail today anyway," Del said, in answer to my grousing, "even if they'd been able to get through the snow. It's a holiday. Remember? Happy New Year?"

She twirled a finger in the air and mimed excitement.

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Yeah. Damn."

I'd spent the entire frigid slog home from the bar in anticipation of a new Newsweek. Or at least People, since a trip to the library for new books was currently impolitic.

"What were you gonna read 'em by anyway?" Del asked. She indicated the shadows lengthening in the trailer house living room.

It was late afternoon. Without power, the whole town would shortly be plunged into darkness.

"I would have given candles a shot," I said. "The pioneers did it, we can."

"Yeah, well, the pioneers pulled their own teeth with pliers too," Del said. "And they weren't apt to burn themselves out of house and home just to read about Brad Pitt's new girlfriend."

She was fairly grumpy herself. There seemed no point in continuing a crabby tally of exactly what we could not do on this holiday afternoon, cut off as we were from the twentieth century, not to mention most of Delphi.

Unfortunately, without the gentle aid of Northwestern Public Service, there wasn't much we could do except talk and listen to the wind as the pipes slowly froze.

Problem was, there wasn't much to talk about except Ian, and we'd already exhausted that subject. And I definitely did not want to discuss my night in the snow with Stu or its possible effect on my relationship with Neil.

I might have enjoyed talking about Gina Adler and her "Laugh With Ian One Minute and Fight With Him the Next" personality disorder (at least according to the differing reports of Rhonda and Joe Marlow), but since I could not mention her equally intriguing "Be Caught With Ian in a Compromising Position in a Public Place" syndrome, that subject was completely off-limits.

I not only didn't want to talk. I didn't want to think. Given the circumstances, there was only one nonthinking, nontalking alternative open.

"I'm going to take a long, hot bath,"

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