How to Bear the Heat

Christine was sitting on her front lawn waiting for the ice cream truck. She had been waiting in the sweltering heat for over twenty minutes. Thirty minutes earlier, Christine had been inside with her mother and little brother Thomas reading her most recent library acquisition—The Giver. She had just realized that Jonas, the main character, could still see color when she heard the ice cream truck’s signature song. She sat for a few minutes in her favorite chair to gauge how far away it still was. She calculated close to two miles, but with the truck’s slow pace and regular stops, she knew she didn’t need to rush.

Now, after nearly half an hour of listening, Christine saw the nose of the ice cream truck slowly rounding the corner onto her street. In her hand was the crumpled and sweaty five dollar bill her mother had given her while she stayed inside to feed Thomas. Just as the ice cream truck came into full view, Christine felt an odd stillness sweep over the street. Christine recognized the feeling—it was the same feeling she had when she went to bed at her grandpa’s cabin up north, right after she snuggled under the sheet and full darkness set in. Silence. Complete, immediate, all-consuming silence. No background humming, no white noise. Just stillness blanketed in silence.

She felt that same feeling now as she stood up from her crouched position at the edge of the front lawn to wave down the ice cream truck. The driver slowed down and pulled over onto the opposite side of the street where Christine stood. Sliding the plastic window on the driver-side door open, he stayed silent as Christine read the panel of menu offerings plastered across the side of his electric blue truck.

After a minute of contemplating, she handed him her damp bill. “Dreamsicle please.”

The driver grunted, taking her damp bill and ducking into the back of his truck. Twenty seconds later, he emerged from the frozen cavern, handing Christine her Dreamsicle and change. Christine thanked him, stuffing the change into her shallow pocket. After checking his side mirror, he drove off, the ice cream jingle jangling in his wake.

It was still morning, but the sun had already warmed to nearly ninety-five degrees. Christine stood on the edge of the curb biting her Dreamsicle. It was crunchy and cold, and just what she needed. She decided that biting her Dreamsicle would be a more effective route to internal climate control, than just standing there desperately attempting to lick it before it all melted down her arm. It didn’t matter—the heat was her enemy today. She desperately bit off the last piece before it fell onto the grass and then licked the sticky trail of drips off her arm. Satisfied, Christine began hopping from shady patch to shady patch in her front yard. It was the only way to make the heat bearable again after her ice cream was gone.

After three hours, her stomach began to growl. Glancing up at the sky, she could see the sun was slightly less than overhead.

“Past noon,” she thought to herself. She had completely missed lunch.

Walking up the front lawn, Christine realized the silence she noticed earlier had remained. As she opened the front door to her house, she was careful not to make too much noise. Just past noon meant little Thomas was likely still taking his afternoon nap.

Tiptoeing through the house, Christine looked for her mother. She looked first in the sunroom at the front of the house, but her mother wasn’t there. She walked next to the piano room where her mother sometimes read. Empty. She looped her way through the laundry room. No sign of her. Finally, she ended up in the kitchen. Her mother often watched the monitor to Thomas’ nursery while she folded laundry and drank her coffee. The monitor and coffee mug were there, but her mother was not.

Remembering again that she had missed lunch, Christine decided to make herself a sandwich. She opened the cupboard and pulled out a new loaf of oatmeal bread, untangling the plastic twist with great care. She pulled out two slices and laid them flat on a paper towel. Reaching back into the cupboard, she pulled out one jar of chunky peanut butter, one jar of smooth peanut butter, one banana, and Christine’s favorite ingredient—honey. The bread, banana, and peanut butter all came from the grocery store, but the honey was special. It came from Grandpa’s apiary upstate. Toward the end of every summer, Christine and her family would drive up and spend two weeks with Grandpa. It was Christine’s favorite time of year, because Grandpa always let her help him scrape the first batch of honey out of the hive.

There were just eight days left before the whole family would pack up for the long drive up north, and Christine was counting down each and every one of them. As she stood at the counter and carefully sliced the banana into equal rounds, she compiled a list of things she wanted to do with Grandpa.

Canoe, campfire, croquet, new honey labels

At the beginning of the summer, Christine had decided she wanted to be an entrepreneur. For a while, she had been at a loss for what to sell. Christine felt that any entrepreneur worth their salt had to make their own wares by hand. After making a thorough inventory of her hobbies, she decided on stickers. Unfortunately, she didn’t yet have the technical means to design her own stickers, so she decided she would start with simple labels using her mother’s label maker. Luckily, she knew she already had one willing customer.

Grandpa sold his honey at farmer’s markets, but he never put any labels on his jars. Christine decided making labels for him would be a good first attempt at entrepreneurship.

After she finished slicing the banana, she set it aside to make room for the jars of peanut butter. She slathered one slice of bread with crunchy and the other with smooth. Then, she took the honey bear and squeezed a ribbon across both slices. She finished the sandwich off with half of the sliced banana. She laid out the other half of banana rounds flat onto a plate, drizzling them with honey, and sprinkling them with sesame seeds. She slipped the plate into the freezer for her afternoon snack, and then cleaned up her mess.

Satisfied with her preparation, Christine sat down to eat. The first bite was heaven. First bites always were, though, and second bites, and third, but after that they always became much less interesting. Christine was always confused by this, but it never stopped her from eating what was in front of her.

As she sat and ate her sandwich, Christine wondered where her mother could be. After finishing her last bite and throwing away her paper towel, she decided to check upstairs. As she reached the landing, she heard a light purring coming from Thomas’ nursery. Slowly, she opened the door just enough to see inside. She saw Thomas asleep in his crib and their cat Leo napping beside him on the rocking chair. No sign of her.

Christine slowly crept out of the nursery and back down the hall to her mother and father’s room. When she reached the door, she gently tapped on it, calling to her mother.

Not hearing a reply, Christine decided to go in anyway. As she wound her way around her parents’ four-poster bed, she heard a rustling. She didn’t know why, but Christine was suddenly slightly nervous. She knew she shouldn’t have been. Her mother was probably changing her clothes or putting laundry away. Still, something about the eerie silence that seemed to be engulfing this day had Christine’s nerves on edge.

“Mom?” She whispered into the closet.

Not hearing a reply, she pushed the door gently open to find her mother sitting on the floor folding clothes into a small suitcase.

“Christine, were you looking for me?” Her mother said as she slipped her headphones off her head and around her neck. “Sorry sweetheart. I’ve been in here for a bit packing.”

“Packing? Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes! But I wanted to ask you first—how would you feel about going up to Grandpa’s cabin a few days early?”

Christine shrieked. “Really?! I’d love that!”

Christine’s mother gently shushed her, putting her finger in front of her lips. “Quiet, sweetie. Thomas is still taking his nap.”

Christine clasped her hands over her mouth. “Oops, sorry. Yes, I would love to go. When do we leave?” She said in a muffled mouthful.

“This afternoon, if we can. It won’t take long for this house to become a sauna.”

Christine started fanning herself. “It is kinda hot in here. Is the air conditioner not working?”

“No, dear, there was a blackout. The power is out everywhere. Well, everywhere around here, at least.”

Christine suddenly realized that must be why everything felt so silent. There was no electricity buzzing through the air.

“Does Grandpa still have power?”

“Yes, thank God.”

Christine was relieved.

“Well, I guess I should go pack my bag then!”

“Yes, please do. Once I’m done here, I’ll wake Thomas up from his nap, and then you and I can fill up the cooler with food from the fridge and freezer.”

“Why do we have to do that?”

“So that we can take the food up to Grandpa’s. Since the power is out, if we leave it here, it’ll all go bad.”

Christine’s thoughts floated to the frozen banana she had left waiting for her in the freezer.

“Okie dokie.” Christine turned to leave, and then turned back, “Is Daddy coming?”

“We’ll see, dear. I hope so, but I haven’t been able to reach him on his pager, so I’m not sure.”

Christine nodded and walked to her bedroom. Gently folding her clothes into her small duffel bag, she began planning her business

proposal for Grandpa’s honey bear labels.

Dear Grandpa. Thank you for taking the time today to meet with me. I have some ideas to help improve your business…

Christine’s thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on her bedroom door.

“Knock, knock. Someone is up from his nap and wants to say hi.”

A big smile stretched across Thomas’ face.

“Thomas! Come here Bubba!” Christine yelped as she stretched her arms out to hold her baby brother. Thomas slipped comfortably into Christine’s arms, giggling and gurgling.

Christine plastered Thomas’ soft, chubby cheeks with kisses.

“How do babies’ cheeks get so soft?” Christine asked her mother.

With one hand on Christine’s shoulder and the other stroking Thomas’ fluffy curls, she replied. “Well, I don’t know if every baby has cheeks as soft as you two.”

“I had cheeks like Thomas when I was a baby?”

“You sure did, sweetie. I think you two got that from me.”

Christine’s mother smiled wide as she plumped up her cheeks.

Christine reached out to touch her mother’s face. Noticing his sister, Thomas did the same.

“What do you think, Thomas? Pretty soft, right?”

Thomas giggled, moving his fingers down between his mother’s lips. She pretended to nibble on them, causing Thomas to squeal with delight.

Christine planted another kiss on Thomas’ cheek. “Sweet boy.”

“And sweet girl.” Christine’s mother said as she planted a kiss on her daughter’s cheek. “Well, sweetheart, how’s your packing coming along?”

“Pretty good. I’m also done.”

“Great! Want to head downstairs when you’re done, so we can start packing up the cooler?”

“Okie dokie. Be down in a jif.”

Christine’s mother floated out of the room, slipping Thomas into the sling she had laced across her chest. Christine finished folding her clothes into her duffel bag and then slipped her toothbrush and comb on top. She took the stairs down two at a time, landing flat at the bottom.

As Christine walked into the kitchen, her mouth started watering for her afternoon snack. Before she reached the freezer, she felt a small, sharp breeze wafting in her direction.

“Ahem,” she said, clearing her throat.

“Ope, you caught me.” Her mother said as she swallowed her bite.

“I’m sorry dear. You know how much I love these.”

“I’m just joking.”

“Bear trap?”

“Yes please.” Christine replied, snatching a frozen round from the cold, ceramic plate. Christine munched her morsel. “Mom, why do you call these bear traps?”

“Because when I was little, I always felt like they looked like fat little bumblebees stuck in their hive. Plus, they’re drizzled with honey, and you know how much bears love honey. As the great Winnie the Pooh once said, ‘The only reason for being a bee is to make honey.”

“And the only reason for making honey is so I can eat it.”

They both smiled.

Christine and her mother packed the food into the cooler. Then, Christine went back upstairs to help her mother bring down their bags, grabbing the label maker from the craft closet on her way down. As she waited in the driveway to leave, she drew a hopscotch track with the chalk Grandpa had sent her for her birthday. It was periwinkle and smelled like plums. Another Grandpa mystery. Christine added chalk to her mental list of things to discuss with him.

As she finished the third round of her game, her father’s car pulled into the driveway.

“Daddy!” She screamed, jumping up and down, waving her skinny arms in the air. “You made it!”

After her father set his old Volvo station wagon in park, he ran up the rest of the driveway and scooped Christine into his arms.

“Hi sweet girl! How are ya?”

“Good, Daddy. How was work?”

Christine’s father exhaled deeply as he carried her toward the back door of the house.

“Oh boy. It was a tough one, but we made it through.”

“Good job, Daddy. I’m proud of you.” Christine said as she wrapped her arms around her father’s neck.

He chuckled into the soft wisps of her hair. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The back door opened, and Christine’s mother stuck her head out as baby Thomas waved all four of his chubby limbs.

“Why hello there. Look, Daddy’s here!”

Christine’s father, still holding her tightly in his arms, reached out to hold the screen door open. He leaned into the warm pocket of air and kissed Christine’s mother gently on the lips.

“Hello dear. Good day?”

“I’d say pretty good so far. What about you?”

“Much better now. Hey there big guy. I missed you today.” Christine’s father wrapped his arms around his family and squeezed them all tightly. “I missed you all.”

Christine hung in the circle not wanting to be anywhere else—except maybe Grandpa’s cabin. The day had gotten even hotter while they were inside packing. As if she could read her mind, Christine’s mother said, “Welp, folks—should we get this show on the road?”

“Yes, let’s! What can I do to help?”

“We’re all ready to go. We were just waiting for you, Daddy!” Christine said patting her father’s cheeks.

“Waiting for me? Oh, well in that case, I’d better scootch my boot.”

“Take your time dear. I’ll get these kiddos loaded into the car and start cooling it down.”

“Sounds good. Be ready in two shakes.”

Five hours later, Christine and her family arrived at Grandpa’s cabin. It was still light outside, and the sky was a wisp of golden gray. Michigan summer days were the longest and brightest. As they slowly drove down the gravel road, Christine could just make out the shape of her Grandpa’s hand waving to them from the front porch.

“Daddy, can I get out and say hi to Grandpa?”

He nodded, and Christine jumped out of the station wagon, running the rest of the way down the gravel path. As she reached the front porch, Grandpa stepped down and Christine jumped into his arms.

“Honeybear!”

“Grandpa!”

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

“I missed you too Grandpa. Didja lose power too?”

“No, sweetheart. Thankfully, I didn’t. I make my own power here.”

Grandpa wiggled his full, bristly eyebrows. Christine laughed.

“Didja eat already? I’ve got plenty of food for you guys.”

“Great! I’m starving. All I’ve had to eat today is breakfast, a Dreamsicle, a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and some Bear Traps.”

“Well, that’s not enough.” Grandpa chuckled, looking over Christine’s shoulder to see his daughter and grandson approaching. “Hi sweetheart. Was the drive good?”

“Hi Dad. Yeah, not too bad. Glad we made it before the sun went down.”

“Me too. Why hello there little man. You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you.”

Thomas laughed sleepily.

“It’s his bedtime. Mind if I go on in and put him down?”

“’Course not, sweetheart. Go right on ahead.”

Christine’s father walked up then carrying the family’s bags. “Hi Dad.”

“Hello son. How you holdin’ up?”

“Oh, you know, pretty good. You?”

“Can’t complain.”

The two men nodded at each other before closing into a hug.

“Anything I can help with?”

“Actually, yes. Could you help me with the cooler? We brought all our food with us.”

Grandpa rubbed his hands together. “Ooh, got anything good?” He said wiggling his bushy eyebrows at Christine.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve got lots of good stuff.”

“Well, since you two still seem to have an appetite, why don’t I put you both on cooler duty?”

“Sounds good, Daddy!” Christine said as she skipped off to the car.

Opening the trunk, she spotted the family’s big red cooler.

“Grandpa, you won’t believe what we brought.”

She lifted the lid. Inside were five pounds of fresh salmon, seven bushels of wild berries, and three giant tubs full of snow cream—ice cream Christine’s mother made with fresh cream, salt, and honey.

Grandpa growled. “Oh, we’ll be eatin’ good for the next few weeks, won’t we?”

“Shore will, Grandpa.”