I called my parents next.
My mother gave me the same answer.
“The bridge club is meeting here tomorrow. Why don’t you book a hotel?”
I stood in the flooded kitchen, cold, hungry, and still grieving the man I had just buried.
Desperate to restore the heat, I went into the basement to check the electrical panel. The floor was wet and slippery. As I reached toward the box, I lost my footing and received a powerful electrical shock that sent me backward.
When I regained consciousness, I was disoriented and freezing. I managed to crawl upstairs and collapse on the sofa.
Then I heard the carbon monoxide alarm.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The furnace had malfunctioned, and dangerous gas was spreading through the house.
My phone was only inches away, but I could barely move. My vision began to fade.
Then the front door crashed open.
“Fire department!”
My neighbor Diane had noticed water flowing from beneath my door and heard the alarm. She called emergency services, saving my life.
PART 2
I woke in the hospital with a concussion, hypothermia, carbon monoxide exposure, and an electrical injury.
A nurse named Sarah stood beside me.
“You’re safe,” she said. “Your neighbor found you in time.”
Then she explained that a local reporter had been in the emergency department covering the winter storm. After speaking with paramedics and my neighbor, he learned that I had just returned from burying James—and that my family had repeatedly refused to help me.
Family
Sarah turned on the television.
The headline read:
WIDOW RETURNS TO DISASTER AFTER FAMILY REFUSES HELP
The report showed my damaged house and displayed the messages my relatives had sent.
We’re busy. Take an Uber.
Why didn’t you plan better?
My private heartbreak had become public.
“Your family is outside,” Sarah said. “Do you want to see them?”
Before I could answer, Troy rushed into the room.
