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Ava
I wade through the brown, ankle-deep water until I reach the bedroom, shivering as I shove as many clothes as possible into my large duffel bag.
It’s official, I think as I hoist the bag over my shoulder and slam the closet door shut. This is the worst year ever.
I’m starting to feel like I might be cursed. It all started in January when my best friend moved away and stopped taking my calls the minute she found a new friend group. Then my parents split up in April and sold the family home after they learned about each other’s extramarital affairs—my mom’s with a twenty-two-year-old swimwear model from Puerto Rico and my dad’s with Gerald, the cantankerous next-door neighbor who used to yell at me if I walked too close to his hydrangeas.
By July, I was feeling pretty low and made the mistake of signing up for a dating app as a result. I endured a string of terrible dates, including Noah, who insisted on communicating in bird calls because it was “his thing”, and Kelvin, who brought his mom to the restaurant with us and tried to get me to pay for both their meals.
I naively assumed things couldn’t get any worse, but then October rolled around and I lost my job just in time for my 21st birthday. It was only boring office work, but it kept a roof over my head until their so-called “staff restructuring” kicked me in the butt. Now, it’s December 30th, and it looks like this year is determined to hit me with one last sucker punch: my apartment is flooded. The cold weather caused a pipe to burst, and now my furniture and a lot of my stuff is completely ruined. Me and Dinah, my cat, have to make ourselves scarce while the whole place is drained and dried.
Happy freakin’ New Year to Ava.
I’ve booked an Airbnb for the week, a secluded pet-friendly mountain cabin in a place called Snowfall Ridge. I need to get away. If this year has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t rely on anybody but myself. So instead of going to a New Year’s party this year, I’ll be sitting in a cozy cabin all alone having an awesome time. I’ll enjoy the scenery, watch cheesy romcoms, cuddle with Dinah, and eat as much chocolate as I want. This year might have been a dumpster fire, but I’m determined to end on a high note.
My New Year’s resolutions this year are pretty simple:
No more men.
No more dating.
Lots more chocolate.
I’m pretty sure that’s the secret to happiness.
Once the duffel bag is nearly bursting at the seams, I paddle out of my apartment and into the hallway where my landlord, Marie, is waiting. She glowers at me, holding Dinah’s cat carrier at arm’s length, as if it’s somehow my fault that a pipe froze and burst.
“Can you please keep me updated on how the drainage is coming along?” I ask, toweling my feet with a dry pair of socks before I take the carrier, feeling Dinah’s heft inside. “I’ve only booked the cabin for a week, but I can always extend my stay if needed.”
Marie sighs deeply. “Fine.”
I wait for her to say something else, but she just looks at me frostily.
“Happy New Year to you too,” I mutter, turning away from her and heading out into the icy December afternoon. I’m immediately surrounded by the familiar sounds of Denver: the hum of traffic, the chatter of people walking by, the rumble of an airplane overhead. Maybe this mountain stay will be good for me—new surroundings, away from the city. A relaxing break after the crappy year I’ve had. Then, once my apartment is no longer a swimming pool, I’ll come back and try to fix my life, starting with finding a new job.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I head for my car. I strap the cat carrier into the passenger seat and peek inside at Dinah, relieved to see her furry ginger body curled up asleep. Not even a flood can stop Dinah from getting her rest.
We leave the city behind, skyscrapers giving way to open highway as the radio plays soft holiday tunes. My mood lifts the closer we get to Snowfall Ridge. If this is rock bottom, then surely things can only get better from here.
“Nearly there, baby,” I say as Dinah meows from inside the carrier. “You’ll like this place. There’s a big old fireplace that you can curl up in front of.”
The landscape turns wild as we enter Crave County: snowy mountains tower around us with silvery waterfalls crashing over the rocks. Forests stretch for miles, spruces and firs dusted with frost like something off a Christmas postcard. I’m just wondering where the heck I’m going to find groceries and cat food out here when I pass the sign for a place called Winterdale.
“Oh my God,” I murmur, my eyes widening at the adorable mountain town. It’s quaint as heck with its colorful stores and boutiques, golden fairy lights twinkling from every surface. There’s a giant Christmas tree in the center of the town and I marvel at it as I park my car, heading for the grocery store. I grab a few things—mostly chocolate and cat food—before getting back in my car and following the robotic voice on my phone as it directs me out of the town, instructing me to take a right up a winding mountain road. I cling to my steering wheel for dear life as we traverse the steep, snowy path, but it eventually evens out.
“It’s just up here,” I tell Dinah, who’s getting restless in her carrier. “Two minutes.”
I catch a glimpse of a mansion glittering through the trees to my left, but the forest is too thick to get a good look, and a moment later, the vacation cabin comes into view. I pull into the stony driveway and cut the engine with a smile. The Airbnb is bigger than I expected—a quaint log cabin with a festive wreath on the door and a roof blanketed with snow. We’re only a little way up the mountain, but the view from here is spectacular—a vast Winter Wonderland stretching all around me. It’s crazy to think that I’m less than two hours from my apartment in the city: Snowfall Ridge is like a whole other planet.
“Perfect,” I say cheerily as I grab Dinah’s carrier and get out of the car. “This is gonna be great, baby.”
The key is in a lockbox at the entrance to the cabin, and I enter the code that was emailed to me before opening the front door. I suck in a delighted breath. The cabin is gorgeous. A giant fireplace stands against the back wall with two large windows on either side of it, showing off the wintry paradise outside. A huge TV is mounted on the wall—perfect for romcom binging—and a comfy couch layered with knitted blankets is calling my name.
Maybe my apartment flooding wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
This place is like a dream.
