I love you,
Ella
I’m still eating my muffin when Ethan replies back to my email.
Holy shit I’ve been so worried! I’m glad you’re okay. Are you sure you mean you’re in Blackwell? I looked that up and it’s VERY far away. Like, how did you get so far away?? De Sota is a six hour drive from there in normal conditions, but the news says that all the roads are blocked and that most gas stations are empty. I don’t know if you should even try making the drive. Can you find a hotel where you are and just wait?
My heart rises up into my throat. What the hell is he saying? Ethan wants me to spend ANOTHER night away from him? Am I really that far away?
I go to the Google Maps on my phone and check my location. Wow, I am pretty far away. I choose De Sota as my destination and tell my phone to route to it. It estimates that it’ll take twelve hours and thirteen minutes to get there. It has me taking the major roads which are all red with traffic.
I could take the backroads again but that didn’t work out so well for me the first time. Icouldjust get on the main road and spend twelve hours driving and just deal with the traffic. It’d mean I get to Ethan’s parent’s hotel by midnight tonight.
But would my car make it? Would I have enough gas for twelve hours?
What if something happens again?
I get another email, this time from Mom.
Good to hear from you, sweetie. I just spoke with the Poes, who said Ethan told them you’re too far away. I think you should get a hotel. I’m sending money to your bank account right now, so just find a nice hotel and stay there tonight. You can’t be on the road all day, it’s not safe. The news is saying there’s epic gas shortages, so I don’t even want you to risk it. Okay? Let me know you got this.
I take the last bite of my muffin. This is so surreal and shitty and just the worst. It’s only noon. I can’t fathom sitting still for the rest of the day and night when I should be trying to get to my original destination.
I look up at the TV hanging on the wall of the café. It’s been on a news channel this whole time but I’ve been ignoring it. There’s helicopter footage of the clogged roadways, filled with thousands of cars that are all trying to evacuate. People are stranded with overheated cars and empty gas tanks. They’re telling people to find a strong shelter if they won’t be out of the hurricane’s path by tomorrow morning when it’s supposed to hit land.
This is misery.
I write back to my mom and tell her I’ll find a hotel. Then I open a new email to Ethan.
So apparently you told your parents where I am and they told my parents who are now making me get a hotel. This sucks! I mean, I don’t want to be stuck in traffic either but I hate this. I don’t want a hotel. I want to be with you.
He replies a few minutes later.
I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’s safer this way, though. I’m only about an hour away from my parent’s hotel, but I’m thinking about finding a way to get to you so we can be together.
I reply:
No. No way. Don’t waste your gas and time coming all this way to get me. You probably won’t have gas to get back. Just go to the hotel and wait for me. This town isn’t too small so hopefully my hotel has Wi-Fi and we can video chat all night. :)
His reply is just one line:
Okay… please be safe.
With a heavy heart, I check my bank account balance. My parents transferred three hundred dollars to me. I know they can’t afford that, and I hate myself even more for getting this lost during a simple evacuation.
I search for local hotels and try to book one online, but they’re all showing as having no vacancies. Maybe the websites are screwed up, so I start calling them, but everyone tells me the same thing. No empty rooms. One hotel person actually answers the phone with, “Hello, we have no available rooms.”
I guess they got tired of people calling with the same question I have. Shit.
As panic starts to set in, I have to try really hard to keep optimistic. I don’t want to sleep in my car for another night. I’d love a shower. Even if it costs the full three hundred dollars, I just need a damn shower and a soft bed to sleep in and some space to move around in.
I go up to the barista and flash her a smile. “Do you happen to know if any hotels around here have rooms available?”
She gives me a pitying frown. “Sorry, everyone says they’re all booked up. But you can probably still get a camp site.”
“A camp site?” I lift an eyebrow. “I don’t have any camping equipment.
She shrugs. “The state park is ten minutes away from here. They have cabins you can rent, and it’s pretty cheap. This lady was in here this morning saying no one ever thinks of the state parks.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say as visions of cozying up to an indoor fireplace with a pack of marshmallows fill my mind. “Thank you.”
The state park’s website is down for maintenance—of course—so I just get in my car and drive there. I’m still feeling annoyed and angry about how everything has gone wrong, but if I can’t have Ethan, maybe a relaxing night in a cabin is exactly what I need.
