The trail is packed down with snow and glazed over with ice, and I’m instantly reminded why Black girls and winter don’t have a standing relationship. My sneakers sink, slip, and soak through within seconds, turning every step into a careful negotiation between staying upright and preserving what little dignity I have left.
I gasp, then shout, “Why thefuckis it so cold out here?!”
My breath puffs out in thick white clouds, my nose already burning as I waddle forward anyway, arms slightly out for balance like I’m auditioning for a very sexy penguin documentary.
I am wildly underdressed, wildly underprepared, and still somehow committed to seeing this nonsense through.
Because if I’m going to freeze to death in Canada, it might as well be while marching toward the sexy bear I’ve apparently claimed for the week and decided is mine.
Let Peace Exist
Max
I’m standing at the edge of the trail when my phone rings. I’m trying to convince my brain to quiet down long enough to enjoy the view from here but one look at the screen and my shoulders tense.
My mother.
I answer on the second ring. “Hey, Mommy.”
“Max,” she says, voice tight and I can tell calling me was the last thing she wanted to do. “Justine’s late. My appointment was twenty minutes ago, and she’s not answering her phone.”
I take a deep breath.
“I’ve got it,” I say, pulling my phone away from my ear to pull up my sister’s number. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
I hang up and dial Justine. Once. Twice. On the third ring, she answers, music thumping in the background.
“What?” she says, annoyed.
“I’m sorry, what? Justine, where are you?” I ask, keeping my voice dangerously calm, even though I’m two seconds away fromreaching through this phone and choking her within an inch of her natural Black life.
“I’m… out,” she says, as if she has nowhere else to be.
“Out. Where, Justine?” I press.
“The Supper Club,” she admits. “I got invited by some guys we met last night.”
I stare at my phone, genuinely stunned by the audacity. “Some guys you met, J? What the hell is wrong with you? Mommy has a doctor’s appointment. No—hadan appointment. Andyoumissed it.”
Did this wench really just suck her teeth?
“I forgot about the appointment, okay?” she says, irritated. “It’s not that serious.”
I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose. “Not that serious.”
“I said I forgot—”
“You don’t get to forget,” I snap. “She doesn’t get a pause button because you wanted free drinks and attention.”
She scoffs. “You’re always so dramatic.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with her. I don’t have it in me to let her ruin the peace that is calling my name out here.
I hang up without another word and immediately call the doctor’s office, apologize profusely, and reschedule the appointment. Again. I confirm the new date, thank the receptionist like she’s doing me a personal favor, and end the call with a headache blooming behind my eyes.
I swear, I can’t even get a week of rest.
Then I text Justine.
