Page 19 of Nothing Ever Happens Here

“Have you ever even listened to a podcast before?” Millie asks.

“It can’t be too different from news casting,” I say.

“Right, Florence was in news. Shecoulddo a podcast,” Mort says.

“Stop saying podcast,” Herb grunts.

“You gotta listen to this one,” Bernie says in an uncharacteristic burst of enthusiasm as he takes out his phone and looks for something on it. “It’s calledDr. Deathand it’s about a surgeon who paralyzed or killed almost all of his patients.”

“I listened to that one. Yeah. You don’t know if he’s evil and did it on purpose or just totally off his nut,” Herb says, rejoining our little huddle as Bernie pushes Play on theDr. Deathpodcast for us all to hear. Then a few people tell us to hush, so he plugs in headphones and we take turns passing them around in the darkness,perched at the edge of our cots, listening to sections of it and whispering to one another.

When we get to the part where the doctor paralyzes his best friend and the best friend still sticks up for him, Mort takes the headphones out and hangs his head. All of us do.

“Poor Jerry Summers, Jesus,” Herb says. Then, after a few solemn minutes, Herb is crunching on a package of Chex Mix that seems to have materialized out of nowhere and shakes his head some more.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into, Flor. I think we should butt out like Shel said.” He tries to pass around the mix, but nobody wants any.

“I could help,” Mort says. “I don’t really do it seriously. I just like to chat and reply to the comments, really. Right now I’m analyzing Euripides, and do you know…” He starts to chuckle to himself. “Someone thought he wroteAntigoneand we got into quite a heated discussion until he realized he was referring to Sophocles, and not Euripides at all. We had a good laugh about it.”

“Oh my God,” Herb says, continuing to hem and haw over Mort’s nerdiness, rolling his eyes and trying to make baskets in the trash across the room with pieces of Chex Mix to show his disinterest. Mort is unperturbed.

“We could all help,” Bernie says. “Mort could show us the ropes.”

“I think it sounds fun. I could do everyone’s hair,” Millie says.

“It won’t be on camera,” Bernie says.

“But you still want to look nice,” she defends.

“Everyone who thinks we should stay out of it, raise your hand,” Herb says, raising his hand and looking around to see he has no allies.

“Oh Lord,” he mutters.

“It needs to be on video from now on,” Millie says. “You wanna reach a wider audience.I was watchingThe Rich Roll Podcaston YouTube. I mean the guy just sits there with a talking head for two hours, but it’s still on video. Plus he’s hot, so it’s fine.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I say. “And we’ll need rides to places, so you have to be in.”

“Are you sure you know what a podcast is, Flor?”

“Vodcast,” Millie corrects.

“I mean to investigate,” I say.

“You’ve all gone mental,” Herb says, then lies down on his cot and covers himself with his sleeping bag. “You’re all fruit loops,” he adds and then puts his sleeping mask over his eyes and turns over.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” I whisper to Mort as I pat him on the arm.

As everyone else gets settled into sleep, I slip out of the room and outside the front door where the wind is merciless and icy flurries sting my skin. I quickly dial back the number for Willard’s.

“Willard’s 24 Hour HVAC Service,” a man’s voice answers.

“Uh, hello,” I say. “I think we spoke to you earlier. I run the night shift at the Oleander Terrace and you guys came out to look at the breakers earlier. I just wonder if you’ll be sending over an email or anything outlining the damage and when it can be repaired, cost, all of that.”

“Oh, well, I told the lady earlier we can’t fix it.”

“But you’re the HVAC experts,” I say, incredulously.

“Whole thing’s gotta be replaced. Someone burned it—it’s melted. The whole breaker box, wires, all of it.”

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