Frigid Affair(3)

A few days later, I opened my front door to find a very famous national reporter almost pleading to do a story on me. Knowing they weren’t going to back down, I agreed to an exclusive. The interview was gut-wrenching. It was obvious she wanted the nation to tear at their heartstrings. She wanted them to pity what remained of my life, and they did. I began receiving letters, gifts, and even money – all of which reminded me again of the one thing I’d never be able to get back. Money wouldn’t buy my family a second chance.

After the interview I couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. It was inexplicable torture, seeing the looks, hearing the whispers. In my job I dealt with the public. It took me two weeks to return to my position, and only a few days after that for me to put in my resignation.

I spent the next month like I was agoraphobic, never once stepping out of the confines of my house.



I think what else made everyday life excruciating was the amount of time I had to wait for the insurance claims to be settled. Let’s face it, I had to bury my whole family. It came with a thirty thousand dollar price tag. I’m in my twenties. We weren’t wealthy. The moment the life insurance money came in for both of my parents, it went to the funeral home. Then I still had bills out the ass. Property taxes, mortgage costs, vehicle payments, all went unpaid for two months. I didn’t know the first thing about filing claims. It took me forever to locate all the paperwork my unorganized mother had around the house. Luckily, my father had taken out a large policy with his firm. During a visit, a month after the funeral, the secretary from the company he worked for presented me documentation regarding the insurance. I was in shock. Not only would it cover the past due bills, but also pay them all off and leave me enough to start a life somewhere else.

The decision was a no-brainer. I had to get out of there.





Chapter 2


When the estate was finally closed, I took the remainder of the money from the life insurance and bought a piece of property in Alaska. Yep, as far north as the United States would allow.

Moving there wasn’t a difficult decision. It wasn’t like I woke up one morning with an epiphany. I’d been interested in the state since we’d visited years back, and researched the laws and areas, even before my family was killed. Back then I’d done it as a joke, teasing my parents that I was going to up and leave one day without notice.

I knew I was going to move to Alaska, I just wasn’t exactly sure where, so I planned a trip there to see if I’d be able to manage on my own.

I fell in love, and shortly after the financial aspects of my parents’ estate were transferred to me, I was picking out where I wanted to spend the rest of my life – on forty acres of wilderness atop a mountain, a picturesque landscape.

It was a new beginning; a way for me to bury all the pain and excruciating facts I’d never be able to change.

My little cabin I had built was enough space for me. It was a total of seven hundred square feet. In the center of the A-framed home was a woodstove. The loft where I slept was right above it, making for very cozy nights. I had steps built that also had drawers inside for storage. The kitchen was open to the main living area and a table sat in between.

I chose to live in a remote location; somewhere I didn’t have to explain my past, or dwell on things I’d never be able to change. I didn’t have electricity, but relied on solar panels and a generator only when I needed to use it. For the most part, I lived on battery-operated devices, in and out of the bedroom. I had push lights all around the cabin, and only used the electricity at night when needed to shower or take hot baths for long periods of time.

It sounds like it would be hard to transition, but I enjoyed the challenge. I also appreciated not having utility bills.

I happened to believe someday I’d find a man to share my life with. In earlier years I’d been promiscuous, getting a lot of experience before I knew how to appreciate it. I knew I’d be giving up my social life – my nights of familiar hook-ups, and most importantly my ability to date. For now, I was content, and if some mountain man happened upon me in the woods, maybe we could make lumberjack babies and live happily ever after. Until then, I had my Great Pyrenees, Ava to keep me company.

A girl can have aspirations.

Modern day amenities weren’t at my fingertips. High maintenance was no longer a word anyone would use for me. I had to make do with what I had at my disposal.

I was roughing it, living off the land, some would say.

If I wanted to heat something up, other than the neglected spot between my legs, I used the cooktop located on the woodstove. I’d keep large containers of water in the house that I’d collected during the day from the outside well pump. Since it was only me and the dog, we didn’t require much. I’d managed to figure out how much I’d need for showers, and even the dishes. It wasn’t as hard as it seems. People think they can’t survive without cell phones and television. After a while you stop missing those kind of pleasures. For the most part, I enjoyed reading.

A collection of my father’s favorite books lined one whole wall of the cabin, while the other side held my mother’s precious sugar bowls. Together they’d traveled all over the world to get them, and it was something I treasured being able to have. I spent a lot of my time lounging on my deck with a good story, even in cold weather. I found it invigorating to be bundled up and feel the chilled air smacking against my thick coat, in the winter, but also the bright sun when the temperatures finally melted the snow.