Me. Bubble. A former cheerleader, who mostly wears pink, smells like strawberries, and sees the world through Bubble-tinted glasses…make fire?
“Oh, Grandma, this is not funny, you know?” A creaking noise startles me. “And don’t freak me out either. Everyone knows there’s only one degree of separation between fairytale woodland dwelling and horror movie cabin in the woods.”
Okay, if they have a fireplace, they must have wood somewhere.
Step one, find wood.
I chuckle at my thoughts but put on my coat and boots and head outside.
Sure enough, there’s a big pile of chopped wood under a tarpaulin on the side of the cabin. I carry a bunch inside.
“Step one achieved.”
Step two is how to make the actual fire. I grab my phone, and there are a bunch of how-to videos. I watch a few until I understand how it works in principle.
There’s a basket by the fireplace with some old newspapers and long matches, so I open the fireplace and start stacking all the elements. First, the scrunched-up papers and a few fire starters, and then the kindling, which are the smaller pieces of wood, followed by bigger ones.
“Okay, Bubble. This is it. You’re about to maybe make fire.”
I light a match and put it close to the newspapers until a few catch fire. When I see there are enough flames, I close the fireplace door.
“Shit, what was the next step?” I grab my phone quickly because I can see the flames already dying. “Why did Juju almost destroy my kitchen, making toast, and now I’m literally making fire, but the flames are going nowhere?” I say to myself, frustrated.
The man in the video talks about giving the fire some air. Huh? What?
“You want me to blow on it? EvenIamnot that good.”
I look around the edges of the door until I see a little knob. I try to move it, and suddenly the flames inside the fireplace come up again.
“Oh my god! Oh my god!” I stand and dance on the spot. “I made fire. Did you see that, Grandma? I made fire!”
I take my Sailor Moon keychain from my pocket and hold it to my chest, staring at the flames for a while and taking in the warmth. So many emotions hit me. I’m happy to soon see Juju again. Sad my grandma is no longer with us. Lucky and grateful to Mr. and Mrs. C for letting me stay here for Christmas.
Before silly, sad tears try to escape my eyes, I prepare myself a coffee and eat a slice of my lemon-drizzle cake. A recipe I got from the wife of a well-known British TV chef. It works every time, and it’s one of my favorites.
Once I’m done, I sit on the couch, staring at the flames again.
This Christmas vacation and the cabin are the perfect settings to help me refocus and regroup. I didn’t think I needed to regroup, but after Coach ran out on me in the locker room, my confidence is a little bruised.
Indy is probably right. No amount of baked treats and flirting will get the big, sexy, almost-silver fox to be interested in me if he’s not interested in men.
Why do I always go for the wrong ones?
As tiredness gets the best of me, I know I need to get my big suitcase from the car, but it’s still early. I can take a little nap and do that later.
With my belly full of coffee and cake and surrounded by my beautiful Christmas winter wonderland and my self-made fire—hashtag smug—I close my eyes and relax.
I hear a car nearby.Sounds like I’m getting some neighbors, is my last thought before I drift off.
7
COACH
In the deep,harsh winter, I admit my fixer-upper cabin by the lake doesn’t feel like the best place to spend Christmas. Especially for someone used to the warmer winters of San Diego.
But two days after the incident with Bubble, I’m still reeling from embarrassment, so I’ll accept my punishment and take it on the chin.
As they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’ll either freeze to death or grow some more chest hairs. Or I could turn into a lumberjack because one thing’s for sure, I’m gonna need a lot of wood to warm up this place.
