Bear Heat

1. Bear Heat-2

“You were a temp. Like I explained when you first took this position…”

“But when I first took this position you told me that I would be promoted to full-time at the end of the school year.”

“I said you would most likely be promoted at the end of the school year. Unfortunately, with budget cuts and the low attendance this year, we decided it best to lay off a few of our temporary teachers.”

“But I need this job…”

“I’m sure you’ll find another job soon, Miss Sharp.”

“It’s the middle of winter! No one is going to be hiring until August, and with the cost of living around here, and…”

“You’ll find another job! You were great.”

“So why are you firing me?” Brooke exclaimed. She had gotten to her feet without realizing it and was clutching her purse. She opened her mouth to say something else but couldn’t make more than a frustrated noise, so she turned and walked out of the principal’s office.

Just like that… I’m jobless.

Brooke walked down the hallway and made her way to what had previously been her room. It was true. She had been taken on as a temp teacher after the unexpected passing of one of the older teachers. It had been sudden but it had worked out. She’d just graduated college and moved back home. The timing couldn’t have been better.

And now, the timing couldn’t have been worse. She’d just payed off a massive amount of student loan debt – finally completely paying it off, in fact – and she was short on money and now she would be short on rent and her life was going to collapse around her…

She pushed those thoughts away and went to the desk. There would be no telling the students goodbye. It was Friday evening, after all. There would be no last lessons. It had been tough – but she had loved it. She knew it was what she was meant to do.

Brooke was meant to teach others – and now that was gone. She grabbed a few photographs of her and her family, opened up the desk drawers and decided to leave the rest of the stuff, and then she walked out of her classroom. With one final look backwards, she flipped the light, never to return.

The janitor gave her a big smile and waved as he walked past, pushing a garbage cart. “Goodnight, Carl,” she told him, unable to tell Carl that this would be the last time they’d ever see each other.

She walked down the dark hallways and out the front door. Icy sleet was falling, so she slipped the pictures into her coat pocket and made her way down the icy steps. She slipped once – barely managing to catch herself – and slowed down until she reached her car. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She tried to slide the key into the lock but it had been iced over. She lifted the handle, or at least tried to – because it had been iced over, too.

She tried for a few minutes in the darkening gloom. No matter what door or how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the doors open to her car.

“I give up!” she exclaimed to no one in particular. She had assumed her day couldn’t get any worse – but she had been wrong. So wrong.

Frustrated and getting increasingly wet and icy, Brooke turned from her car, dropped her keys in her pocket, and decided to head home. It wasn’t a terribly far walk. In fact, at the start of the school year, she’d often walked to and from school when the weather had been agreeable. Now, though…

She put her head down and headed to her little apartment. The sidewalks were deserted. Night was coming soon and with it more cold, she didn’t blame everyone for not wanting to be out in it. A few cars passed her. She half expected a spray of icy water to shoot out from underneath their tires at her but somehow, that didn’t happen. She trudged home, feet wet, ears cold, teeth chattering, until she reached her apartment.

She buzzed herself in the front door and stepped into instant warmth. Mrs. King greeted her as she walked by with a smile. Brooke gave her own best smile and then took the elevator up to her apartment. She opened the door and shut it behind her, not even bothering to lock it – she just collapsed on her couch with a surprising noise of breaking glass.

Brooke jumped up and looked around for what she had sat on for a moment until she realized she’d just shattered the pictures she’d taken off of her desk. She carefully took them out of her pocket and walked over to the trash can. She salvaged the pictures and with a careful hand dropped the broken frames into the trash.

Then she took off her coat, hung it on her coat rack, and only then did she lock the door. She walked to her kitchen and opened the freezer, searching for something she could toss in the microwave. She found an old TV dinner – it didn’t look appealing – and grabbed it anyway, reading the packaging and tossing it into the microwave.

She found herself opening a bottle of wine to go with the TV dinner and after a few minutes, Brooke was in the living room turning on the TV. She tuned it to the news and ate and drank without really watching.

She’d been fired.

No, laid off. Like that’s any different. Can I file for unemployment? Should I even bother?

Brooke finished her TV dinner, her glass of wine, and then made her way to the kitchen. She tossed the empty box away, put the glass in the sink, and then made her way to her bedroom, feeling completely unfulfilled.

She thought about taking a bath and decided she didn’t have the energy. Instead, she took off her day clothes and slipped into something a bit more comfortable. Slowly, she trudged out into her living room and collapsed upon the couch again. She looked out the open window and watched as the sleet started to freeze against it.

Why couldn’t it be snow? Why did she have to lose her job when she needed it most?

At least I’m debt free, she reminded herself, though at the moment it did little to ease her sour mood. She was jobless and alone in New York City, and she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Well, I’m not completely alone.

She grabbed her phone and picked it up. She went to her contacts and found who she was looking for. Her finger hovered over the name and she considered not dialing it at all. If she did dial it, she wouldn’t have enough self-control not to talk about how she’d just lost her job, and the last thing she needed right now was pity…

She dialed the number and put the phone up to her ear. It had barely rang twice before a cheerful voice on the other end said, “Good evening, honey! Enjoying the weather?”

“I lost my job, Mom,” was all she said.

There was the briefest of pauses and then her mom was crying on the other line, saying, “Oh, no, honey! What happened?”

“It was just a temp position. It’s not a big deal,” Brooke said. “The principal, she gave me a good review. I’ll find a job in no time.”

“But it’s the middle of winter, won’t you need to wait until the next school year?” her mom asked, voicing her worst fear again.

“Yeah, but…”

“And you know that with those temp jobs, you can’t file for unemployment,” she continued. Brooke felt her heart falling further in her chest.

I never should have called her…

“I know,” she lied. It had been what she was hoping on until she found another job.

“Your apartment?”

“I can pay for it,” she lied.

“Your father and I can help if you need,” her mom said. Brooke looked down at the phone and grimaced. Even across the phone line, her mother could always tell when she was lying. It was something Brooke had picked up on as a young kid and something she’d never forgotten, though she often tried to get away with it.

“No, Mom, that’s okay, thanks. I just wanted to let you know.”

“You need help.”

“No. I just wanted to let you know what was going on in my life, is all,” Brooke told her. “How are you and Dad?”

“We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

“No! What? Why?”

“To help you pack things up. That apartment is awfully expensive, living over on that side of town.”

“But the money I save… It’s so close to work…”

“It’s close to your old job, honey,” her mom said in her soft voice.

“Mom, I really don’t need help. Trust me. I’ll get things under control.”

“Try to pack up as much as you can. We’ll get the rest packed up when we get there. Bright and early. We’ll be there at 7.”

“Mom, no!”

But her mom said, “Goodnight, honey! See you tomorrow! Goodbye.”

And then the line went dead and Brooke sat there completely alone.

She had known calling her mom would be a mistake. She always wanted to help, no matter what. She knew she would want to swoop in and save her only daughter. It was natural. She’d been trying to do it for years.

And I knew if I called, this would happen. Deep in my heart, I called because I need a little help. Just a little.

She hadn’t expected her parents to be driving to her apartment to pack it up and then… Then what?

When we pack up all of my stuff and I move out, where am I going?

Recognition dawned in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, she felt her heart leap and then a sick feeling settled over her.

No…

If they’re trying to move me out of my apartment, I know exactly where I’m going after this. I have to call my mom back and tell her that I won’t. Tell her that I refuse. Tell her thank you, but I can’t let her do that. I can’t.

I can’t.

She knew in her heart that she couldn’t. But she also knew, in the logical part of her brain, that she had no other choice. She couldn’t afford the apartment any longer. She could maybe squeak by on one or two extra months, and that wasn’t including her bills and all of the food she’d need to survive. For a fleeting moment, she thought maybe she could survive on TV dinners and Ramen noodles. She could get rid of cable. She could disconnect the internet. Not run the furnace, for one. Keep all the electricity off until absolutely necessary. Take quick, lukewarm showers.

It wouldn’t be a good life, but it would be life.

And I wouldn’t have to move back in with my parents. They’ve been waiting for this for… For how long? Since I left for college?

I can’t.

And Brooke grimaced. She knew that no matter how much she told herself she couldn’t, she would.

She was moving back in with her parents.

Sam woke slowly. It was still dark outside, so he rolled over and pulled the covers up around his neck, trying to shut out the cold from his freezing apartment. He was resistant to the cold; that didn’t mean he liked it, though.

He opened one eye and glanced at the clock. His phone alarm hadn’t went off yet but he knew it must be about time for him to wake up. In the dark, he couldn’t see it.

Fumbling, one of his hands found his phone. He grabbed it, pulled it off the charger, and brought it to his face. He hit the button on the side to light up the screen – but nothing happened. Confused but suddenly awake, he hit the button again and again. Nothing.