The Invisible Middle Child Left In The Snow

I was the middle child, the one our family learned to look right through. The Invisible Man.

My older brother, Jason, and my younger sister, Charlie, had their birthdays circled in permanent marker on the kitchen calendar. Mine was a date my parents perpetually forgot. Jason got the latest sports jacket, Charlie had her princess dresses, but somehow, they always "meant" to buy me new clothes and just... ran out of time. Jason and Charlie got crisp holiday cash envelopes every year; my pocket was always empty.

And today, on the highway heading to Grandma Carols for the New Years celebration, with the temperature plunging below zero, my parents had, once again, forgotten me at a desolate rest stop.

I was coming out of the men's room when I saw Jason and Charlie climbing into the car. I hurried to follow, but before I could reach the door handle, the engine started.

I broke into a run, shouting into the frigid air.

Dad! Mom! Im not in the car yet!

But the car accelerated, taking the exit ramp and merging swiftly into the river of traffic until it disappeared completely.

I stood there, staring at the empty patch of road where theyd vanished. My lips moved silently, repeating the words that felt too small for the moment.

Dad, Mom, Im not in the car

The sound was a wisp of smoke, shredded by the biting wind before it could even leave my mouth, scattering across the empty parking lot.

In the next second, the last residual thread of shock and disappointment was quickly overlaid by a cold, heavy numbness.

I slowly dropped my gaze and looked around.

The vast rest stop was eerily quiet.

Under the sickly yellow glow of the streetlamps, the sky was a featureless white haze. I couldn't see a single soul. On the highway in the distance, headlights streaked past in blurred ribbons, the rush of traffic a constant roar, but not one car slowed down for me.

I was too scared to wander. My feet felt anchored in place, filled with a leaden weight, holding onto a faint, desperate hope.

Maybe they hadnt driven far. Maybe they would realize I was missing and immediately double back to find me.

I clenched my fists inside my worn jacket pockets, staring at the exit ramp, praying over and over for the familiar sight of our white sedan.

It was getting colder. The chill wasn't just on my skin; it felt like it was seeping into my bone marrow, cooling me from the inside out. My toes were already numb, slowly losing all sensation. My cheeks were wind-chapped and aching. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I forced them back.

Crying wouldnt help. Nobody was coming to comfort me.

Finally, unable to bear the wind any longer, I shuffled back toward the restroom. At least indoors, it offered some meager shield from the cold.

In the silent bathroom, the only sounds were my shallow breathing and the howl of the wind outside.

All the suppressed hurtsthe ones I was too "good" to mentionflooded in like a tidal wave, drowning me completely.

I thought about last years birthday, the one they forgot entirely. It took Mom three days to remember after she finally saw the calendar. She quickly boiled me a bowl of ramen with one fried egg on top.

There. Happy belated birthday, Nelson. Eat up.

She said it without taking her eyes off the TV.

For Jasons birthday, the whole family went to his favorite ski resort. The custom-made cake said, Our Pride and Joy. Charlies birthday was even biggeran entire class party, presents piled up like a small mountain.

Jason was the "responsible older brother," the one Dad bragged about. Charlie was the "little princess," spoiled and adored.

And me?

Nelson is a good boy. He never makes a fuss.

That was my label. Like a faint pattern on the wallpaper, I was technically present, but utterly unnoticed.

I sat there for what felt like hours. The small warmth Id managed to trap was fading, and my body began to shiver again.

Just as I was on the verge of losing awareness from the cold, I heard faint footsteps outside the door.

My heart leaped, jolting me back to full alertness. I instinctively lifted my head, my eyes fixed on the entrance.

Was it Dad?

Had he finally noticed and come back?

The door creaked open.

But the person who walked in was a strangera middle-aged man in a thick, dark parka.

The light in my eyes dimmed instantly. A small, self-mocking smile touched my lips. Of course. I'd let myself hope again.

The man was clearly surprised to see me, a small boy sitting alone in a remote rest stop restroom. He looked me up and down and spoke in a gentle voice.

Hey there, kiddo. Are you all alone? Where are your folks?

Hearing the word "folks," my throat tightened. I swallowed back the tears, my voice raspy.

Sir, I... I got left behind. Could I please borrow your phone to call them?

His expression immediately softened with concern. He quickly pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to me.

Go on, go on. Its freezing out here. Youll catch a chill.

I took the phone, my fingers stiff with cold, fumbling and hitting the wrong numbers several times. Finally, I entered the right number for the home line, took a deep breath, and pressed dial.

The ringing was a hollow doo-doo-doo, each sound a fearful beat against my ribs, a terrifying mixture of hope and anxiety. The line went dead. No one answered.

My hand holding the phone trembled slightly. The tiny flicker of hope inside me cooled even further.

Mr. Harrisonthat was the name on his jacketwatched me. He offered a soft assurance.

Dont worry, kid. Maybe the service is bad. Try again.

I nodded, my frozen fingertip hitting the redial button. I pressed the phone tightly to my ear, praying that this time I would hear my mothers voice.

The wait tone felt agonizingly long. My breath hitched and fell with each ring.

On the seventh ring, the call connected. Moms voice came through, muffled by wind noise and car radio music. "Hello?"

The tension that had coiled in my chest snapped. My eyes instantly welled up. All the fear and misery stuck in my throat, my voice barely a whisper.

Mom... Im not in the car. You left me at the rest stop.

Her rebuttal was immediate and sharp, laced with annoyed certainty.

Thats impossible! I specifically asked Jason and Charlie if everyone was in before we left! They said yes! How could we have left you?

The line went silent for a brief moment. I could picture her turning around, craning her neck to look at the empty back seat. Those few seconds of silence were colder than the wind outside.

I expected panic. I expected guilt. What came next was a searing accusation.

Nelson, why didnt you say anything before we drove off? Couldnt you have yelled louder?

You wait until were past the toll booth to call? What a nuisance!

The icy words were like tiny needles, puncturing the last balloon of my expectation. I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing the tears back, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

I did yell... I ran after you and shouted, but you didnt hear me. The car just drove around the corner.

My defense made her pause, but only for a second. The silence vanished, and she latched onto a new excuse to blame me.

Well, thats your fault for being so slow!

I told you to hurry up, but you always dawdle. Now were past the exit, we cant just turn around on the freeway! How are we supposed to come back for you?

Then, Jasons voice cut in from the background, a note of self-satisfied, careless mischief in his tone.

Its his own fault for being so slow! I even told him to hurry. Now look at him.

I gripped the phone, my knuckles white, a fresh wave of anger and shame washing over me. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had shoved me out of the way to get his spot first, and then he had bumped me, making me drop my gloves so I had to re-button my coat. And now he was pinning the blame on me.

Next, Charlies small, petulant voice piped up, dripping with spoiled entitlement.

Mom, Dad, I dont want to go back! I want to get to Grandmas house and have the gingerbread cookies!

Just as I felt the dam of my tears about to break, Dads low voice came through. There was no warmth in his tone, only cold, detached logistical planning.

Enough arguing. Your Uncle Mark is driving back to Grandmas today, too. Hes on the same route as us.

You stay put right where you are. Dont move. Wait for him. Hell pick you up.

But Dad, I dont know Uncle Marks car. When is he?

The dial tone cut me off. The line was dead.

I stood holding the phone, stunned.

The tears Id been fighting finally broke through, splattering onto the cold screen, chilling it instantly.

Mr. Harrison gently patted my shoulder. He sighed.

Son, dont take it so hard. Tell you what, why dont you come to my place first? I can call your parents again from there. Were about to get off the highway, so I cant take you all the way, but it's warm and safe.

I thought of Mom and Dads sharp impatience. I shook my head, declining his kindness.

No, thank you, sir. They said my uncle is coming soon. I just need to wait here.

I knew they wouldn't want to turn around, not now. And Uncle Mark and I were never close. Asking him to drive out of his way to pick me up would only make him resent me.

Mr. Harrison opened his mouth to say something else, but his own phone rang. It was probably his family rushing him. He looked at me with deep concern, then reached into his bag, pulled out several small bags of beef jerky, and stuffed them into my hand. Then, he unwound the thick, dark scarf from his own neck and wrapped it tightly around mine.

Keep this. Itll help keep you warm. Eat the jerky to keep your stomach full. If you have to wait too long, find another person to call them, but you absolutely cannot leave this area, you hear?

I nodded hard, choked out a muffled Thank you, sir.

His hurried form disappeared through the door. The empty rest stop was mine again.

The arctic wind still whistled through the door cracks, but the scarf around my neck gradually started to generate a small, bearable warmth.

My stomach rumbled. I tore open one bag of jerky and nibbled a tiny, careful piece. I couldnt afford to eat much. I folded the rest neatly and tucked it into my pocket, thinking that if the wait stretched on, this might be all I had to survive on.

I pulled the borrowed scarf tighter and instinctively pulled my jacket closed. Underneath, I was wearing Jasons old sweater from last year. The collar was stretched out and misshapen from too many washes, the cuffs frayed. Jason didnt want it anymore, and Mom said it was "good enough" for me.

Jason, meanwhile, was bundled up in a brand-new black puffer coat, the hood lined with thick, rich fur. He looked like a handsome, proud knight. Charlie had a new pink-and-white down jacket that made her look like a cheerful little marshmallow.

Only I, in my brothers hand-me-downs, was a muted, faded shadow.

Afraid Uncle Mark would drive past without seeing me, I gritted my teeth and stepped out of the restroom, back into the bitter wind.

The light from the streetlamps grew dimmer as the sky deepened to a heavy gray. Isolated flakes of snow began to fall, landing on my hair and shoulders, instantly melting into icy water. I stared at the direction of the oncoming traffic, stomping my frozen feet to try and generate warmth, rubbing my stiff hands together inside the scarf, repeating the prayer for Uncle Mark to arrive soon.

Car after car rushed past, the headlights blinding me, but not one pulled into the rest stop.

The snow picked up, dusting a thin layer onto the dark scarf. I wrapped it tighter. The salty taste of the jerky was long gone, replaced by anxiety and an escalating, consuming cold.

I had no idea how much longer Id have to wait, or if Uncle Mark would even remember to come. I just knew the freezing wind was slowly turning my entire body to stone in this empty place.

Time stretched out into a meaningless expanse of cold and hunger.

I stood beneath the dim streetlamp. My hands and feet had lost all feeling, replaced by a constant, paralyzing ache. I had been shivering earlier, but now I barely had the energy to do even that.

A strange, new discomfort began to take hold.

My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, heavy and throbbing. I couldnt hold it up. My heart was poundingthump, thump, thumplike a frantic drumbeat against my chest, making it hard to catch my breath. My stomach was empty and now started to cramp with pain.

Was I just too hungry?

My hands shaking, I pulled the remaining half-bag of jerky from my pocket. Forgetting all caution, I crammed the whole piece into my mouth. The salty-savory flavor barely managed to quell the panic, but the sensation of being faint and top-heavy intensified.

A shiver ran through me, a coldness far deeper than beforeit felt like it was radiating from my bones. I tightened the scarf, but the warmth felt utterly useless, instantly absorbed by some invisible, internal void.

Just as I felt I was about to fall, a black sedan approached from the distance and slowly pulled up to the rest stop entrance.

Grasping at a final lifeline, I forced myself to move, using the last of my strength to stumble toward it. The driver rolled down the windowanother stranger, an older man.

Sir... could I borrow your phone again? I... I dont feel well.

My voice was so weak I could barely hear it myself.

The man, Mr. Davis, paused, then quickly handed me his cell phone.

Kid, whats wrong? You look pale.

I didn't have the strength to explain. My fingers, still stiff, managed to punch in Dads number.

This time, he answered immediately.

Dad... My voice was a choked sob.

When... when is Uncle Mark coming? I feel so sick... my head is spinning, and my heart is pounding so fast... Am I sick?

Dads voice, clear and irritated, came back.

What is it now? I told you to wait, didnt I? Your uncle left ages ago, hes probably just stuck in traffic, hell be there any minute!

Cant you wait for five minutes? Whose fault is it that you missed the car? Now you know how to complain about being uncomfortable?

No, Dad, I really am sick...

My weak protest was lost on him.

Just stop it! Stop being a nuisance! Wait quietly! Its a holiday, Nelson, stop creating problems!

The line went dead again, the busy signal stabbing my ear like an icicle. I opened my mouth to say I couldn't hold on anymore, but the click had already severed the connection.

I stood there, phone in hand, too stunned even to hand it back to Mr. Davis.

He gently took the phone from me. Dont rush, your family is almost here. Why dont you sit in my car and warm up?

I shook my head, afraid that if I moved, Uncle Mark would miss me. I managed a strained Thank you, sir, and slowly shuffled back to my original spot.

After an unknown stretch of time, my bodys frantic trembling subsided. My heart slowed down. But there was no relief. My limbs felt heavy and disconnected, rigid and unresponsive. I wanted to stomp my feet to warm them, but lifting my legs required too much effort; my movements were in slow motion.

Night had fully fallen.

I stared blankly at the road, my vision blurring, my consciousness beginning to drift. I gritted my teeth and used every last ounce of will to move, inching along the edge of the rest stop building.

Breathing... was becoming difficult. It felt like someone was squeezing my throat or a heavy boulder was resting on my chest. I gasped, struggling to pull in air, but each intake was shallow and fast, never enough.

My vision fractured. The streetlamps were swimming halos of light. My knees buckled. I sank to the freezing concrete, curling into a tight ball. The scarf slipped halfway down my chest, but I couldn't summon the energy to pull it back up.

I was so tired...

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and my mind was sinking into a deep, dark well.

In a hazy moment, I thought I saw Mom and Dad running toward me from the distance, their faces etched with panic.

Just before I finally closed my eyes, one last thought surfaced in my mind:

Its okay. They finally came for me.