Juniper: Have you looked at the forecast lately? That storm is supposed to get here earlier than expected.
I jump up and look out the window above the kitchen sink. It’s dark, but the streetlight illuminates small, but consistent snowflakes.
Me: Yeah—I just turned up the heat. It’s dropping out there for sure.
Juniper:…
Me: I’m fine, I don’t have to go anywhere until the morning.
Juniper:… Listen, if I’m out of line just say so, but my moms wanted me to invite you over for Christmas Eve. You and your grandma. Do you want me to come get you now? If everything is shut down tomorrow—I just don’t want you both to get snowed in… alone.
Me: We actually have plans to go to Kiana’s tomorrow night. I know how to dig my car out if needed. Plus—I work tomorrow. But thank you for the invite. That’s sweet of your moms.
Juniper: OK, right, yeah. Of course, another time. Well, if you need anything, let me know. You’re both welcome here, anytime.
Me: I will. Thank you.
Juniper: Good night. Stay warm.
Me: You too. Night.
I hover my finger over the kissy face emoji, and then throw my phone on my bed.What are you doing, no!I say in my head. Then I wash my makeup off, check on a soundly sleeping Grammy, leave the faucets in the bathroom and kitchen running slightly so the pipes don’t burst, and crawl into my bed. As I drift off, I can hear the wind howling.
It’s absolutely freezing in the apartment when I wake up the next morning. So cold I can see my breath in the air, and the tip of my nose is icy when I touch it.
“What the hell!” I keep my covers wrapped around me and shuffle over to the thermostat by the front door, which is covered in a thin layer of frost.
I check the vents, and sure enough, the slight hum they normally make is silent and there is no hot air blowing through them.
“Well, that’s not good,” I mumble.
“Lyric, baby?” Grammy calls from her room.
I shuffle in and I am greeted by a mound of blankets. “Get in here!” her voice says from underneath.
I don’t need to be told twice. I add my blanket to the pile on the bed and then burrow in next to Grammy.
“Now, that’s better,” Grammy says, scooting closer to me. “I was worried about you out there when I woke up. It’s ice-cold up in here. Did we forget to pay a bill?” she asks. There’s no judgment in her voice, just a tired resignation.
“No. We did not. I swear. We had it all covered this month.”
“Well, OK then. I know you’re on top of all that. Thank you. Did we get any notices from the apartment manager?”
I lift up my phone in the dimness of our blanket fort and navigate to the apartment building’s Facebook page. I only have a Facebook profile for this reason—a way for me and Grammy to keep up with what’s going on in our building. There’s a new post, from five a.m.—FURNACE IS DOWN IN BUILDINGS B & C, WE ARE TRYING TO GET SERVICE OUT THERE ASAP, BUT ROADS ARE BAD. FIND ALTERNATE SHELTER OR CALL BUILDING MANAGER FOR HELP.
“What ‘alternate shelter’?” I yell.
“Slow down. What is it?” Grammy asks.
“It’s the whole building—the furnace is down. And there’s no estimate of when it will be fixed because it’s about to be a blizzard out there and this apartment complex is cheap as f—”
“OK, well now, let’s just think, then,” Grammy cuts me off. “No need to get all outraged at something we can’t control. This is not ideal, but we’re two intelligent women.”
“But I’m supposed to work today, Grammy. You can’t be here alone with cold like this.”
“Baby—I’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse in my time.”
My phone rings then, and I jump when my manager Jeannine’s name pops up.
