The Approach

‘So, what do we do now?’

That was my brother, the last one out of the house. My mom was still arranging things on the wooden picnic table we had outside and dad would be home later. Doug just wanted to act like an asshole because he could not play videogames until he fell asleep at the computer. Another Friday... I wanted to check my email and research some things for my homework, but that was done for the moment. I thought that it would only be for a few hours. And it was still bright out, so I did not think that we would have to be out here until it got dark. 

My bad.

‘So, what do we do now?’

Even mom was getting upset with him. She never got upset with him. She never got upset with anyone, really. I had seen her sit through my brother’s tantrums about school and work and not once did she raise her voice. That was why he did it in front of her, of course. She did not really respond to him until today. 

‘What do you want me to do about it, Doug?’

Good to see him a little uncomfortable at that. Like he got slapped. And I figured it had nothing to do with finally being told off (dad did that all the time, and I, of course, never took it easy on him). He just did not expect it from her. And even I had to admit that it kind of surprised me, too. She was moving some of the trays of food around on the picnic table and when she went off on him, I almost dropped a jug of soda.

‘Damn.’

‘Language?’

‘Sorry. But I never heard you…’

‘Sorry. Just go back in and get the rest of the food.’

Strange to be inside the house when it was so quiet. No TV, or – more relevant – computers (laptops and desktops in the front room; tablets in our own rooms; all of them now almost useless). First thing you notice about power going out when it is still light outside is that you have a lot of silence without technology. My brother noticed the lack of wi-fi, but I was more tuned in to the silent rooms and the lack of a hum from the fridge or lights. 

Good thing that she had everything cooked before the power cut. That was the way it worked every afternoon. She had the TV on, watching the soaps and she would cook while this was happening. Today, she called to tell us to just turn on the stove so that it would be ready when she got home (shopping for next week, she said). I was early from school and did not have anything else to do except check emails and surf online. And it was all done. Only problem is that the food was ready before the TV cut out. 

‘You want me to bring the whole tray out or leave it in the dish?’

‘Um, no. Put it in the main dish if you can and bring it out.’

Steak and potatoes…again. Gravy and vegetables were already outside. I was careful but almost spilled a few things on the patio when I got outside. Not even hungry, either. But it did look great and I could smell the other food in the stove still getting warmed with the remaining heat. At least we had all of that.

And we were together for once.

‘So, do we wait or…?’

‘Your dad said he would be late and that we should eat.’ She was already covering a plate of food with some tin foil that I had not noticed before. I took a plate and looked over everything we had to eat.

‘Looks great, mom.’

‘Thanks.’ She frowned. ‘Sarcasm?’

‘No, really. I mean, we never really talk about anything and now we are stuck out here with no power. Good idea to put all of this out here while the weather is nice and we are all away from the screens.’

‘No wi-fi. What else are we gonna do?’

‘Shut it, Doug.’

‘Shut it yourself, Laura. You were on your tablet, too.’

Almost threw a baked potato at his head, but he was right. We were all distracted. And hungry. One thing about being without most of the technology we relied on was that we were going to pay more attention to ourselves. My stomach was even beginning to rumble.

‘We’ll start on this and leave what we can for dad.’

‘When’d he say he’d come?’ Doug was already wolfing down gristle and fat and I made a face.

‘Didn’t say. And slow down. We are not refugees in a camp!’

Doug and I both looked at her. And she looked at us. 

And we all laughed.

Terrible joke, of course, but there was no point being PC out there with us in the sun and trying not to make a mess of things on a patio that held this flaking picnic table, some old folding chairs, and a rotating laundry line that was in danger of tipping over. We needed a laugh.

‘Mom! That was actually funny.’

‘I sometimes try.’ She was smiling with a forkful of gravy and potatoes.

‘Guess we should hear it more often.’

Doug was right. We did not hear it enough. I kept eating.

‘Dad…is going to be late. But I don’t think he is going to miss much.’

‘Laura, your dad misses everything. He is always working. Just make sure you keep an eye on his food and don’t let any wild animals out here steal it.’

‘Like my brother?’

‘Like your brother.’

Doug, just catching up, almost choked on his peas and carrots. We were actually having a good time. And that was what I thought about as we sat for a moment and heard all of our neighbours attempting their best with the loss of power. People were in their backyards and we could hear the ones that we barely spoke to, or had never even seen. Through the wooden slats of the fencing in the backyard, we heard meat sizzling, laughter, balls being kicked and caught, jokes being told and music being played very loudly.

And then dad showed up. 

‘The whole neighbourhood is like this?’

We cleared a space for him as he walked over with his papers and briefcase. I knew that he had a very important meeting that day – something about a merger – but he looked almost happy now. Not that I needed to know how it went, but still.

‘So, what is on the menu?’

We ate, listened, laughed, let the sun hit us for a few hours before the darkness started to creep in, and then wondered about what we would do if the power did not come back on. Doug was sent inside to get some flashlights, including one that did not need a battery and could be cranked with a handle to make some light.

‘We could just…stay out here, right?’

Mom was acting very unmomlike. Doug and dad were smiling. I just wondered what she was thinking.

‘Tent!’

‘Yup. Dad, you put it in the garage and we have not used it all summer.’

‘No reason to leave it in there if this is gonna go on all night.’

They were all looking at me at this point. Mom was the one who suggested the tent. I guess that they wanted to see what I wanted to do. And maybe I should have spoken up faster. Maybe I should have thought about grabbing the sleeping bags and setting up a space between the trees we no longer climbed back there. Maybe I just needed to think about us for a while.

But then we heard clicks and hums from our house.

The TV was back on in the living room, now covering some news story about another fire in some part of the country. A light also appeared in the kitchen, along with a loud buzzing from the smoke alarm (brief but aggressive). All around us, our neighbours noticed that they also had the power back. Some of the music and laughter had stopped. No one was heard through the sound of the return of electric current.

We just sat there for a moment.

‘Guess we can go back in…?’

Doug was right, but we did not move, until dad did the one thing that made me smile the most that day. He got up, picked up his papers and briefcase, went to the screen door, found the outdoor light switch, and threw his stuff onto an inside chair.

‘Not yet.’

And that was how we ended up staying up all night in a backyard we had barely used over the last year. My phone was inside and Doug had left his computer on, but we did not bother to go in to check on them. We just talked and talked about what we were up to and let the night pass. And I wondered about something I thought that I would never care about. But I won’t mention it here. 

No, I really don’t have much to say about that now.