What Happened To Summer?

“…Crank up those AC’s, it’s hot out here!”

The heat was UN. BEAR. A. BLE. I sat backwards on a kitchen chair with my sweaty chin rested against the headrest. Dizziness engulfed my head while I spun myself round and round for air. My sister laid flat on the counter beside the radio as she fanned herself with a pink folding fan.

“…temperatures reaching about—Huh?” The radio broadcast continued, “Hold on folks, we were just informed—NWS issues a warning for an extreme heat-”

“Phbbth…!”

My little sister, clearly uninterested, blew raspberries. She turned the dial, like, a million times, on the radio station.

Crackle…Hissssss

“Stop, I was listening to that!” I grabbed the ledge of the counter to stop myself from spinning and swatted her hand away from the knob.

“I don’t wanna listen to more newsmen tell us about the heat we’re already feelin’!”

She had a point. But she can’t know that.

“Dad!” I leaned backwards and shouted out into the doorway.

A few seconds later Dad, strolled in with a perky smile on his face. It was hard to see our Dad smile after the divorce with mom a couple years ago. It’s just been the 3 of us since then. Me and my sister being 10 and 4 at the time, I didn’t understand. I hated my Dad for having a side geese. Or piece. Whatever my Mom said. She said he never cared for us. But seeing as she hasn’t shown up for us in 2 years, it’s clear to me now who’s right.

“Ah, Sean, stop the fussin’. Just let her have her way.” Dad took a handkerchief out of his pocket, playfully smacking my head. He was all dressed up for work. “Besides, I don’t like you all listening to that channel 35 crap anyway. Their information is unreliable. You’ve got a better weather reporter right here.”

“Yeah…” My voice trailed, followed by an awkward laugh.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just think the guy was gonna report something important. I mean, look at us.”

Lifting up my arms, both of my soaking wet armpits could be seen and smelled.

“Haha, summer here isn’t like it used to be. Global warming. It’s a nice feeling though, being in that freezing office of ours for hours. Boss can afford blasting AC’s 24/7 but not a raise.” He muttered. 

“Anyway, don’t be anxious, buddy. I’m on the air in a few minutes and tonight at 6. Just keep WOAA on the radio and I’ll keep you updated.” 

He came forward and pecked me on the forehead. Before he could peck my sister, she stopped him.

“Daddy, who makes summer? I want them to make it rain”

Dad scoffed out a laugh and ruffled her hair.

“Silly, we talk about this every day. I’ll tell you all about it after work, okay? I have to get going.” He looked around the kitchen. “I’ll buy water on the way back too. Just wait here.”

In a split second, he grabbed his keys and was out the door. 

I was left to watch my sister until he got off at 9. 

I smacked my lips, thinking of what to do in the meantime.

“You want a popsicle?”

She reluctantly shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

“I do. But I checked. They’re all melty.”

“In the freezer?” I almost didn’t believe her. But I checked for myself, pulling open the freezer door. It was all mush. I sighed and rested my head against the freezer in defeat.

Distant screams could be heard outside the window. My mood changed, peering out the window.

“It’s the neighbors, they have a pool! Get your swimsuit and go play. I’ll wait by the radio.” 

She squealed excitedly. No way Janelle would say no to that. 

***

Hours had passed; the scorching heat had only worsened. After she swam, we continued to sit around in the kitchen. Just sitting. Listening to the radio static, patiently waiting for Dad to come on and tell us everything was gonna be okay.

“Change it, Janelle.” I said, giving up. “Just go put your show on TV.” 

“Daddy said to wait.”

“Daddy also said he would be on at 6. It’s 7. I'm sick of waiting on people who lie.”

Janelle poked her lip out and whined when I tried to change the station myself. That wasn’t gonna work on me. Realizing this, she bear hugged the radio, grasping for dear life.

“Get away!!!” She shouted, slurring her speech a bit. 

A burning sensation struck my hand once I grabbed her arm. My heart skipped. I was so focused on waiting like a sitting duck I didn’t realize how sickly my sister looked. Playing outside must have made her worse. 

Quickly I looked across the street; the neighbor’s pool had evaporated and the hose was cut off. I ran towards the sink, pushing and pulling the handles. Nothing.

Janelle’s hair was soaked and steaming, and her skin looked rashly. She was gonna die if I waited; I just knew. 

“Get up, I have to get Dad; he’ll know what to do.”

Janelle lifted her head, she was surely having a heatstroke. But she’s stubborn and wouldn’t let her hands off of the radio. Think. Fast. 

My eyes shifted to the useless fridge.

I wrapped my arms around her and the radio and carried her down the steps. My shoe almost stuck to the wood. The creaking of the steps intensified. The heat expanded the boards. Dad taught us that. I opened the deep freezer and pulled out pounds of meat, it was cold enough. 

“Please stay here, I’m gonna come back with Dad.”

She didn’t respond, but she held her grip on the radio. I thought her fingers would snap. I grabbed an icepack from the freezer, darted up the steps, and ran for the door.

Twisting the doorknob, another burst of painstaking heat was sent straight through my hand. Fanning my hand, I quickly grabbed an oven mitt hanging up.

THUD

The hinges on the door were completely melted and the door fell clean off. I scanned the neighborhood. People were halfway hung out of their windows. Cars were melting into the driveway. My bike had been sitting under the tree all day. The tires still bubbled. I took the chance. With an icepack in hand, pressed against my head, and an oven mitt in the other, I picked up my bike and headed for Dad’s job.

“It’s not too far.” My voice could hardly be heard beyond the squishing of my tires and the groaning and cries of the neighbors. “I can fix this.”

I pedaled with all my might. The sun beamed down onto my skin. My blood boiled, almost in a literal sense.

***

It was difficult to breathe, but I had made it, with my face drenched in sweat and my skin broken out in hives. Those big red WOAA letters had made it all worth it.

“DAD!” I tried to yell, but nothing clear came out. I had no solid plan from here on out. My eyes felt hot, and not because of the heat. I began to realize Dad couldn’t do anything but comfort us. Be there for his kids. That’s all I wanted. 

Oh man. He was dead. I just knew.

I threw the, now useless, bike down and slumped towards the entrance. There wasn’t any power left in me to run. Every breath I took felt like I was stabbed with a pin a thousand times. The ice pack had melted into a plastic mush. With my oven mitt still intact, I pushed the entrance door.

To my left, an empty reception desk. To my right, a board with a list of rooms and names. My eyes focused and unfocused too fast to make anything out of it. Straight down the hall was a big, red sign with an arrow pointing left. 

‘ON AIR’

The feeling of relief washed over me. It had to be him. The silence was deafening. I tried lifting my leg up to walk, but I dropped onto the floor. I couldn’t even cry if I wanted to. I dropped everything from my hands for support. On my hands and knees, I slowly crawled down the hall. My ears rang every time I made a move. 

The red light from the sign shined on my face. To my right, a hallway that led to stairs. To my left, multiple doors. Just one stood out. A glass door. It stood directly at an angle facing the wall. I could see inside, just not far enough. I tried to move, but there was a jitter in my knees.

My body completely collapsed. My shoes had melted to the floors. I couldn’t even feel my skin anymore. Maybe my mind was so overwhelmed to even remember what pain was. Or maybe for the fact that my nerves were dying. I knew that.

I looked up at the door and squinted. Was I delirious? Is it my heatstroke? It looked cold.

So cold that you could see the condensation on the glass door. Even from how far I was. I thought about all the times Dad complained about how cold his job was. His slackoff boss was a blessing after all.

I thought about Janelle. I thought about Dad. I wanted in. I wanted in bad. With the last inch of strength in my body, I dug my nails into the wood floors until they bled, pulling my body closer and closer to the door. A wonky smile crept onto my lips.

The further I inched towards the door, the more I saw inside. Half of a man’s body could be seen leaning up against something. I knew that corduroy suit from anywhere.

“DAD!” I could hardly even think of screaming. 

My fingers gripped the small space between the floorboards. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled. My arms trembled. I completely pulled myself up to the door, huffing out my last few breaths. My head lay against the ground. Paralyzed.

I peaked open my eyes. There he was. Far. In the back of the room. With a woman wrapped in his arms, leaned up against a table. Her belly poked out. He turned his head, just enough for me to see his face. He was smiling that smile he had earlier. Perky. Happy. Unaware of the pain and suffering that was going on around him.

Dad looked down at his watch and moved, with the woman, towards the center of the room. There was a backdrop where they record live weather reports and a table straight across. It wasn’t a normal table; I knew that. It had buttons. When he clicked one of the buttons, the solid light from the ‘ON AIR’ sign flickered. 

My hand slid towards the door. I knocked. I couldn’t scream, or shout, or open the door. I knocked the quietest knock.

Dad’s head snapped towards me. 

I couldn’t scream, or shout, or ask dad to help me. My eyes spoke for me. I cried with the last bit of hydration left in my body.

Hand still on the control console, his eyes widened with hurt. He knows he has to save me. Save Janelle. Save this hell of a summer.

The woman wrapped her arm around his. Dad picked up the mic on the console.

“Hello, hello, folks! James here, broadcasting to your radio station LIVE from WOAA. Heatwave warning. Heat-Wave-War-Ning!” Still locking eyes with me, he separated his words with urgency. I could hear the woman crying into his arm.

Dad moved to another end of the console; there were multiple colored knobs. He turned to look at me again. 

There was no urgency. And she wasn’t crying. She was laughing.

Still holding eye contact, he rested his fingers on the orange and yellow knob. He twisted, slowly. He picked up the microphone.

Mom was right.

No.

Janelle was right.

“…Let’s crank up the heat.”

People do control summer.