Page 30 of All Too Well
“Har har, you’re so funny.”
Sad part is that I’m not even sure he’s joking.
“Bye, Ainsley.”
“Goodbye, my annoying brother. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
We hang up, and as much as I’d love to go back to bed, I need to send some emails and get my notes in order on how I’d like to approach the story. That means I need to get up and head to Prose & Perk.
First, to try to shower in this ... mess of a cabin. Mr. Brickman told me that the water can be hot, but mostly it’s just cold, and if I turn the generator on ten minutes before, I probably won’t hate my life.
Yeah, that ship has sailed.
I pull my sweater tighter, pull my boots on, and head to the back. I’m supposed to press something, turn a lever, and then try to start it up.
I follow the steps as I remember them, but nothing happens. So I do it again, and this time the motor makes a sound as though it wants to start.
That’s promising.
After the fourth time, it fully kicks up, and in the absolute silence of the woods, it sounds like it’s waking the bears that should be asleep.
Back inside I go before I’m eaten.
I do my best to wait the ten minutes, but I’m really in need of coffee. I take what is probably the coldest and shortest shower of my life, convincing myself that cold water is good for my skin and hair—then I’m out.
I check my phone, and I have three calls from the office and an email, but my service sucks balls out here, so I can’t open it. Therefore, I get dressed and head into the bathroom area to blow dry my hair.
When I push the button on my dryer, nothing happens.
I try again, and now the lights in the cabin go out.
“Great!” I yell and groan.
Back out to the generator I go.
Once again I have to basically say a prayer to get it to start. It does on the third try, and I go back in.
This time, with my wet hair, I wait the full ten minutes and then chance fate. I close one eye, waiting, but all the lights are still on, and everything seems fine.
Until it’s not.
Suddenly sparks start shooting out of the outlets. The lights go out and there is a popping noise and smoke.
“Shit!” I scream, dropping the blow dryer.
I will not die in a shitty cabin in the middle of the woods.
I rush out of the room, grabbing some of my stuff and shoving it in my suitcase. I get through the front door, hair half-dried, in leggings, a bra, and flip-flops. I throw my small bag in my car, and then I see more smoke.
My hands are shaking as I dial 9-1-1.
The operator comes through the line. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi, I’m at 8223 Tiger Lane, in an off-the-grid cabin. Umm, I think it’s on fire. I don’t know.”
“Are you in a safe location?”
