There was enough to start a fire, but not to keep one going, though. Kindling burns fast… way too fast for the snow that was coming in. That would’ve been like giving a starving man a TicTac. We’d need real wood if the lights went out, and that storm wasn’t looking like the polite type.
Adrian kept spinning around in awe. “Yo, this is impressive as hell. You a whole winter warrior out here.”
I straightened up, a sense of pride swelling within me. “I don’t do chaos; I do control.”
He nodded slowly, then tripped slightly on a shovel leaning against the wall.
“Watch yo’ step, nigga. That shovel might be theverything that buries you… in this backyard. If you fall and die out here, that’s on you. I ain’t got no homeowners insurance for clumsy-ass houseguests who ain’t on the deed. Besides, I got a license to protect. So I can’t be on Channel 5 news trying to explain why some random-ass man froze to death in my shed ‘cause he ain’t know how to use his goddamn eyes.”
Adrian looked offended. “So you’ll just bury me in the backyard with no remorse? Bruh, I got family.”
I paused. Something clicked.
Hell nah. I can’t bury him in the backyard… not with his spirit lingering around, moaning, and knocking shit over, haunting me every time I try to grill.
“I’ll do you one better,” I added, lifting my chin.“I’ll drag yo’ body to the edge of the property line and claim you was never here.”I leaned in closer, lowering my voice for effect. “Or…” I nodded toward the dense woods beyond the yard. “I’ll call back that bear from earlier. I’ll lay out some honey-basted ribs and your body like a charcuterie board, offer you up as a peace treaty, and let the wild take you.”
Adrian’s eyes widened. “You’ll do that shit for real?”
I titled my head, wickedly. “Don’t give me a reason to.”
I turned my attention toward the pile of wood, signaling the end of that conversation.
I stacked two logs with care, feeling the solid weight of the wood beneath my palms. Adrian stood there awkwardly for a moment, then decided to help—or at least give it a try. But it quickly became obvious that the nigga didn’t know shit about stacking wood.
Adrian glanced at the stacked logs and squinted, confusion written all over his face. “That’s enough wood, right?”
My stare dropped the temperature ten degrees and told generations of my ancestors to stand down.
“Nigga, what? That,” I pointed at the pile, “that’s enough to keep a fire going for maybe four hours…ifyou feed it slow. Think of it as dinner and half a movie. But what you gon’ do after that? Cuddle up with your regrets and a space heater that don’t work? Share a sleeping bag with hypothermia? Sip hot cocoa with pneumonia and pray for a warm front? Netflix and frostbite?”
He shrugged. “I just thought—”
“Stop doing that,” I cut in. “Thinkingain’t yo’ lane today.”
I dropped another log on the pile and kept my tone even.
“I ain’t about to keep coming out here every four hours like some cold-weather concierge. Nah. We get what we need now, so we ain’t running out of heat at two in the morning with Chesteria’s and Isis’s nipples looking like pushpins and death knocking on the cabin door.”
He shook his head. “Damn.”
“Exactly.” I gestured toward the axe. “Now earn yo’ stay, nigga. Show me them mythical carpenter skills youshouldhave.”
Adrian looked at the axe like it was a damn murder weapon that I planned on killing him with.
“Right now?”
“Nah… on Christmas. Yes, right now, nigga. You said you’re a carpenter, right? So this should be like muscle memory.”
He hesitated… then backed up and started doing a light jog in place… then some arm circles. The nigga even reached down and touched his toes like we were at P.E. in ‘00.
I folded my arms. “Warm-up routine, huh?”
“Yeah... I got a whole system.”
Including what? Silently praying that nobody calls you out on yo’ bullshit.
“I usually stretch first. Gotta loosen up the joints… can’t risk injury,” he said, dead serious, reaching for the sky like he was summoning ancestors.
