Henry
I know very little about meteorology, but I feel like when I was a kid weather people were just guessing.
At least five times that I can remember, Cal and I woke up on random mornings in the winter and looked outside to find it had snowed in heaps overnight and school was canceled and we were in for a morning of Toaster Strudels and The Price Is Right.
Everything is scientifically modeled now, though, predicted to within tenths of inches, and it’s so anticlimactic.
Like today, Monday, three days before Christmas.
The snow started this morning, as advertised.
So far, it’s no big deal—an inch, maybe—but more’s coming.
“Folks, I’m not kidding,” the weather guy said while I was getting dressed earlier. “This storm is here to stay. Santa better get Rudolph’s nose charged up, because Baltimore’s in for our first white Christmas in more than two decades.”
I was tempted to roll my eyes and say, “We’ll see,” but the blobby mass racing toward Maryland from the frozen middle of America left little doubt.
Sometimes I miss not knowing things. I grabbed the remote and flipped away from the news only to find It’s a Wonderful Life on one of the movie channels.
Is it, though? I wondered. Maybe for some people.
I’m walking now through Fells Point, which is a mess, because the streets are cobblestone and plowing cobblestone doesn’t work.
I took the water taxi over from Federal Hill.
Four consecutive nights at our row house have passed without incident.
I’ve cleaned, watched TV, unsuccessfully scoured the internet for an animatronic Black Santa to buy because I miss the one by my apartment.
Mr. Ross came over last night with two Natty Bohs to make sure I hadn’t stuck my head in the oven, which was considerate, and we watched Jeopardy!
together. And yes, I know Brynn is dead, but I’m going to keep calling it “our” row house a little longer, because I’ll be putting it up for sale after the holidays.
Soon it’ll be full of someone else’s ghosts.
There’s a pretzel stand up ahead with a sign that says, “Closed for The Snowpocalypse.” I use it as a shield for a moment and check my phone. I texted Ian earlier to see if they’d announced the contest winner yet. He replied:
noooooo! we have assembly at noon then we are on break i’m not supposed to use my fone at school thoooo!!!!
I haven’t spoken to his mom since she said what she said, and she made it sound like I might never again.
After I see how Ian’s contest turns out, I’ll stop texting with him.
I’ll miss him, and I’ll miss little Bella, too, and Harry Styles.
Mostly, though, I’ll miss Grace. I already do. So much that it hurts.
You’re gonna win, buddy. I just know it.
I put my phone back in my pocket and wait for some cars to creep over snowy Thames Street.
I’m meeting Win and Regina for coffee at a place called Charm City Grinds that sits atop an old record shop called Charm City Rocks.
I nearly fall twice as I negotiate the slick metal stairs at the side of the building.
“There he is!” shouts Win when I open the door.
“Woo hoo!” calls Regina. “My other killer has arrived!”
My boss and my creative partner are waiting for me at a little table by the window. My vacation is about to be over.