I didn’t lack confidence. I loved myself, but it grated on me when people consistently told me I wastoo muchortoo odd. I spoke too loudly, or too often. My clothes weren’t sleek or cool. My favorite though: no explanation at all. The promise of a call or another date that never came.
Maybe it was time to take action.
Especially if my mom tries setting me up for the holidays again.
“Okay girls, you’re right. After break, we’re doing this.”
“Yay!” They cheered in unison and left me alone for the rest of the show.
Soon they were all on their way home for the holidays, leaving me alone for the first time since summer. And while I never looked forward to having the girls gone, the peace and quiet was nice. I picked up the remaining cups and the debris from outside and made myself a cup of tea before settling into my room on the west side of the house. It was modest, but I had my own bathroom and suite separate from the girls. Tomorrow, I’d read one of the books I’d checked out from the library and hunker down for the blizzard that had scared central Illinois into buying bread by the tons and emptying store shelves of all the flashlights and batteries.
Something wasn’t right. I woke up chilled to my core. Condensation from my warm breath swirled in the air, and my skin felt like ice.Am I in a nightmare?
I wiggled around in my bed and eyed my watch—7:00 a.m. The extreme weather alert at the top of my phone filled in the missing pieces. God, the blizzard must’ve hit hard. I shivered as I pushed off the covers. This wasn’t right. The house should never be this cold.Amanda’s room!I needed to make sure the tarp held.
I crept toward the third floor. My teeth chattered, and my entire body trembled. I wrapped my fuzzy pink bathrobe tighter around my body and switched on the hallway light.
Nothing.
I tried it again. No light. I ran into the first room. Again, no light.Oh my goodness, the power is out.
I jogged to the closest thermostat and gasped at the number. Thirty-four degrees in the house. Holy moly. I needed more layers and a plan.
I speed-walked back to my room and fumbled with the bedside drawer, retrieving the device I stored there for moments like this. I flipped on my emergency flashlight and then searched my closet for three pairs of sweatpants, three pairs of socks, and an old fleece bathrobe. I shuffled downstairs toward the fireplace, panicking at the five remaining logs of wood. We didn’t have a generator in the house since the last one blew a couple months ago. Why hadn’t I prepared better and stocked more wood?
Thank goodness the girls aren’t here.
But what the heck am I going to do?
I found lighter fluid and set up the first couple of logs. The cold would last a week, but the snow should stop after a few days. Then I could drive to my parents’ house and stay warm. That left me with forty-eight hours of warmth to create.
There used to be a stockpile of logs in the backyard, and if they weren’t there, the kitchen chairs it was. Okay, start a fire.
I could do this. Totally do this.
Twenty matches in, there was still no fire burning, and my hands were so dang cold. I blew my hot breath into my gloves.This is not good.
Before a wave of panic came over me, someone banged on my front door. Three loud knocks echoed in the foyer.Who would be here at 7:00 a.m?
“Becca, let me in. It’s fucking cold.”
Harrison.
I got up in a rush, unbolted the door, and ushered him inside. “The power is out! I’m trying to make a fire but it’s harder than I thought and I’m having no luck.”
“I know. Heard on the radio everything west of Lincoln Street is out.” Still standing at the front door, Harrison squinted toward the living room where I’d made a temporary setup while trying to start the fire. “How much wood do you have?”
“Uh, a couple of logs, but I think there’s more in the backyard.”
Focus on surviving, not his face. Most definitely not his lips.
He shook his head, shut the door with a loud boom, and entered the hallway. It was just the two of us in the dark, narrow foyer. “There’s no stockpile in your yard. I checked on my way over here.”
“Okay.” I hoped my voice didn’t give away my worry. My stomach rivaled a pinball machine of anxiety at the severity of the situation.Think. What’s the plan?“Uh, I have kitchen chairs and tables.” I ran my hand over my face and took a few steps toward the kitchen. “I could break the legs off, yes. That shouldn’t be too hard.”
He scoffed, and cupping his hands around his mouth, he blew into them with his hot breath before rubbing them together. “Becca. Pack a bag and stay with me, at least until the power comes back on.”
Stay with Harrison. At his house. Alone.With the guy who ghosted me?With the guy who made me question if I was too much? No. No way. Was this a prank? Another act of misplaced guilt? My gut churned, wondering at his motivation behind the invitation, and I dug my hands farther into my pockets. I wasn’t pathetic, and I was sick of men being guilted into spending time with me. They felt bad, or my mom begged them, or they owed a favor to a mutual friend, andthat’swhy they were on a date. The list was endless, and I gritted my teeth.
