85) Ice

Ice – Winter

After haying season, and the Mr.’s injuries from the fire, I needed another job. He wasn’t in great shape physically or mentally, and the handyman calls had stopped coming in entirely.

I felt responsible. She made sure I felt responsible.

The only decent job in Pinedale for someone with a vagina who didn’t have family ties was at the long-term care facility. I applied to be a “Night Laundress” because the night shift had an extra $.30/hr shift differential. I was eager for every penny I could possibly earn.

I bought my first car from the Old Witch, which she promised would be good for me. I remember it was a nightmare getting the plates and insurance and it was so much running back and forth. Finally though, it was in my name.

It was an old station wagon with an 8-track player. I loved the 8-track player and it had Crystal Gayle and Don Williams 8-tracks included. The steering always terrified me, and it felt like no matter what I did, it was all over the road. It smelled like old car- gasoline, and engine things. It had power windows that didn’t roll down and no ac- it was about to be winter so I didn’t see a problem. It also smelled like freedom.

The second time I drove it, the car overheated. I’d never been in an overheating car before and I tried very hard to convince the car that it could make it home, and we could figure it out there. That’s not how overheating works.

Finally, I pulled over and popped the hood. I didn’t feel safe trying to open anything, and the amount of steam coming out was concerning. I was there for a few hours before someone stopped and gave me a ride to Daniel’s Junction where I could call for help.

There was a general agreement amongst the car people involved that it just needed some small repair and everything would be good.

Phew!!

The Old Witch even had a guy who could do it. That took several weeks.

In the meantime, I was taking the van to work. Since I worked at night the van was still available during the day. She still made sure I knew it was a burden.

The job was actually pretty cool.

I did a lot of laundry, learned how to fold fitted sheets, and learned quickly how to time things so the CNA’s cart were filled right before they would be running out, and their full bins would be magically whisked away and replaced with empty ones. I got to walk the halls of the Board and Care side, just to make sure things were in order, and no one was in distress.

I could listen to music and sing at a medium volume, (people were sleeping).

I also got to go clean the physical therapy building which stood separate from the rest of the facility. I could sing as loud as I wanted in there. It was a quirky building with a lot of character. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but doors would shut themselves, and lock themselves. Toilets would flush themselves. The CD player would turn on when I was nowhere near it. Lights would turn off. You could say it had a special charm.

When I first started cleaning the PT building I loved putting on music and just getting down to work in there. They had a handful of CDs including Phantom of the Opera and a few by The Cranberries. I loved singing along with Phantom of the Opera at the top of my lungs with nobody to tell me not to.

I loved it so much, until it started turning itself on.

Nothing harmful ever happened in there, but it was definitely an experience. After I’d had several odd nights there, I brought it up to another young CNA and she told me that there are a lot of stories about weird things happening there. She had lived in Pinedale her whole life.

It made some sense. People did die there. A lot of people died there, but not in the PT building.

My car kept overheating after I got it back, so after being out all of the money to license it and insure it, it didn’t even run.

I kept driving the van, and the Mrs. made sure I knew how much I needed them.

About a month after I started there, a new CNA started. She was fun, and funny, and laughed openly. She pushed the boundaries of what was appropriate, and I’ve always welcomed that. There were several coworkers that I really liked, but I came alive when she was there, and she was really nice to me.

She didn’t work near me, but I had the key to the back door, so whenever a CNA wanted to go smoke, they had to find me to let them out and back in. This was a pain in the ass, because all of the CNAs smoked.

Before long, I caught on to the rhythm of the breaks on the medical side, and I could work my night around those interruptions. All of a sudden she just stopped coming in. That happens a lot in a right-to-work state.

One night, I had to go to work and it was a full-blown blizzard outside. The snow was already 2ft tall where it hadn’t been plowed, and where the snow hadn’t drifted. Some of those drifts were taller than our trailer. I had made it part of the way when I decided that the conditions were just too dangerous. Unfortunately, it was also dangerous to go back.

I managed to turn around without spinning out or getting hit, and made my way back home. Our highway turnoff had a little parking area with a ditch on one side and a fence on the other, then it became a dirt road that started with a sharp turn and a steep hill. Most of the time that particular feature was pretty fun to drive through. That night the entire parking area was ice.

I knew I had to hit it with enough speed to get up the hill, without losing control on the turn. Did I mention this was a jinky work van? I carefully positioned the van, and gained traction as carefully as I could. Spinning out wouldn’t help me get the momentum and control I needed.

My first attempt made it half way up the hill with a pretty good trajectory.

I just had to hit it harder. The second attempt went about three quarters of the way up. My third attempt, I hit it as hard as I could summon and made it just to the top when I lost traction and the van slid down the hill sideways, spun around from the momentum when it hit the bottom, hit a fencepost and bounced into the ditch with 6′ snowdrifts.

I tried everything I could think of to try to unbury the van from the snowbank. My efforts were digging it in further, and it was well after I should have arrived at work.

There were below zero temps that night, and the Wyoming wind was Wyoming windy. I had worn a coat, and jeans. I brought my scrubs with me to change into on site because it was too cold to drive in them.

The walk to our place was 1.2 miles, and to even get started I had to get up that icy hill. I ended up climbing the choppy drifts to the side, and saturated myself from the crotch down right at the start.

There was nothing to do but head for home, and hope for the best.

I desperately hoped that someone would drive by, and maybe they could rescue me. I also had plenty of time to daydream about how dangerous it could be if a car was going too fast out here and didn’t see me. I didn’t have enough footing to change course quickly.

I just put one foot in front of the other. It hurt so bad. The stiff pants would freeze to my skin and my feet were completely soaked. It became hard to step because my muscles didn’t want to extend. Hills were torture for me normally, and on that night they felt never-ending.

In the dark, with the snow blowing around me, it was so hard to tell how far I’d come. It was difficult to recognize the other homesteads I was passing.

Maybe I should have just stayed in the van. I’d come too far to go back. Maybe if I didn’t make it home, I’d at least make it close enough by the time someone would find me.

I really had to pee. Every step was searing pain and the air hurt to breathe. My face was frozen. I didn’t bring a scarf.

I peed myself. I was already wet, and at least the pee was warm for a second- before it started to burn into my frozen skin.

I kept going.

I finally arrived back home, and the Mrs. made a huge production over how worried she had been, and how young and unprepared I am, and how much I had scared her, and how much we couldn’t afford for me to not work, and how much we needed that van, and how were we going to get to the van, and what if the van was totaled?

I couldn’t undress myself. My fingers were incapable of manipulating the button or the zipper on my pants.

As the Mr. pulled my pants down for me, I admitted that I’d peed myself. It was the closest he’d been to my pussy for months.

I hated that I was young and stupid. I hated that I needed help from someone I wanted so badly and was supposed to have and couldn’t have.

He helped me get into a cool shower, which stung and burned my thighs. It hurt so bad, and I could barely stand but I couldn’t bend my legs and it all felt so impossible. My joints screamed.

When I finally came out of the shower I dried myself off and got directly into bed.