“Hello?”
“Oh, hey, kid. Glad you’re awake.”
“Yeah, I don’t sleep in much. Is this about work? Because yes, I’m planning to be there for my shift.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. That’s why I’m calling. Our whole store is shut down—busted pipe, the entire front half of the store is flooded. I doubt we’ll be back there for a few days at least.”
“But—”
“I’ve been told that our holiday pay will still be honored. So, that’s a perk, I guess. Listen—stay warm and off the roads, kid. Think of this as an early Christmas gift. I’ll see ya in a few days.”
I nod as if Jeannine can see me, and then say a rushed “OK, bye” when I hear the line click.
“I’m guessing work is canceled, then?” Grammy says.
“Yep. Busted pipe. Well, shit. Now what?”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. I do not need this today, and Grammy cannot be in this cold indefinitely. “We can’t stay here.”
“Well, maybe we can go to Ms. Mills’s?”
“She’s in Ohio, Grammy, remember? Visiting her brother. She’ll be back on the twenty-seventh,” I say.
“Well, we might just need to tough it out, baby. We can stay bundled up and in bed all day. It’s not so bad here, right?”
It’s not—our body heat is helping—but I can hear the wind outside, and when I check the weather app on my phone, I see we’re under a severe winter storm warning from twelve p.m. until tomorrow sometime. If the heat isn’t fixed by tonight, we might be stranded for days without it. That can’t happen.
“Let me see if Kiana is back from her trip yet,” I say.
But before I can even get my message drafted, my phone dings. It’s Kiana.
Kiana: Fuuuuuk, Lyric. This storm is a vibe killer. Dads and I are snowed in with my grandparents in Grand Rapids. I don’t think we’ll make it back to Lansing tonight. Are you and your grandma OK? We really wanted to host y’all.
Me: Uh, yeah. We’re OK. Work got canceled—busted pipe. So, we’re just laying low at home.
I don’t tell her about the heat situation because I don’t want her to worry more, and I’ve got one more idea to get me and Grandma somewhere safe.
Kiana: Well, at least you don’t have to drive in this or deal with work. Let’s FaceTime later, OK? It’s Christmas Eve after all.
Me: OK, yeah, maybe. I’ll text you.
Kiana: Not maybe. You will text me and let me know how you are.
Me: OK.
I take a deep breath and let the warmth of Grammy’s bed hold me for a minute longer. Then I snap into action. “Stay here,” I say, “I’m gonna get us somewhere before this storm gets worse, OK? I just need to get the car warmed up. Be back soon.”
“Lyric—please, baby, I’m fine.”
“I got this.” I almost yell,Trust me.Then I kiss Grammy on the cheek and jump out of the bed. I rush around the apartment as I stuff a few things into two overnight bags. I free our half ham from the fridge and slip it into a shopping bag. Then I suit up as best as I can, slather my lips in cherry ChapStick, and open the door and step out into the frigid air. It takes a good fifteen minutes for me to get the car all warmed up and ready to drive, and I say a little prayer that my bald tires don’t get us stuck on the side of the road. I help Grammy bundle up, and then walk her to the car slowly, making sure she doesn’t slip on any hidden ice.
When we’re both buckled in, I send a quick text to Juniper. Then I pull out carefully onto the road. Visibility is already bad even though it’s only 9:30 a.m., but I go slow and keep my hands on the wheel and only take streets that I can see have at least been plowed some. Soon, we arrive and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“You brought us to your lil girlfriend’s house?” Grammy says, peering out the icy window.
I don’t even try to correct her, because maybe Juniper is more than just a friend now and maybe that’s not the worst thing. All I know is that we’ll be safe here.
