A Frigid Mother

(Updated November 27, 2022)

Though we commandeered the characters from It Only Took Twenty Years to tell the story, Will and I lived it. We began writing it on February 16, 2021.

Don't let the title distract you. This is nowhere near that particular Literotica category, and it's placed in "Non-Erotic" because there is barely any erotic content.

We don't often name true-to-life entities in any sort of unflattering manner, but we decided to dispense with the rule in the case of ERCOT and Oncor which are, indeed, real entities. Their employees' names have been obfuscated.

This is based on events which were current at the time. It reflects the anger we were feeling. We suspect  many readers will understand this at a personal level because they were up to their own asses in alligators. We hope this story gives those readers some comfort in knowing that this pair of Texans was right there beside you, even though we're anonymous.

Oh. And to those of you who are thinking about commenting, "Why were you writing when all of that was happening around you?"

Simple. It was an outlet. We were busy helping friends and neighbors that needed it. We were both pissed to the gills they'd been thrust into horrible states, so please, don't judge.

"Take this situation very, very seriously," the on-screen local TV meteorologist, Dell Peterson, continued. "There's still some variability in the models, but most are converging toward an extreme arctic incursion this weekend. Today's high temperature of almost seventy degrees will soon seem like a distant memory. We'll have an update at ten o'clock, so make sure to tune in, or stay up to date, twenty-four seven, on our app."

Dawn had just stepped back inside after checking on her aunt and uncle in the guest house.

"Holy mackerel !" She laughed. The winds have definitely picked up," she said.

She didn't need to tell me because the state of her hair spoke the truth itself. I chuckled as she tried to corral it all back behind her head.

"I'm thinking we should go to the grocery store and pick up a few basics, you know, just in case," I said.

"Why? Did Peterson say it's going to get bad?" she asked, pointing at the muted TV.

"Possibly, but if it becomes a sure thing, people will be hitting the stores in droves at the last minute and find empty shelves like last March."

"Good point. Let's go."

Aaron climbed into his booster, and I helped him with his seatbelt. The three of us went to the megamart and bought just enough to last us an extra week. We bought some beef, chicken, and pork. Two loaves of bread, a gallon of milk, another package of overnights for Aaron, a couple of boxes of pasta and jarred sauce, a half dozen cans of vegetables plus fresh produce, and various other sundries finished our cart. We also bought extra provisions for Dawn's aunt and uncle who usually ate like birds.

No, we weren't hoarding. Our bill was $150, about what a typical week of groceries costs.

As I anticipated, and within mere days, we were seeing social media posts showing empty shelves at grocery outlets all over the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex.

That day's high temperature was sixty-six degrees. Tuesday's was thirty-four, which would prove to be the last day of above-freezing temperatures for ten days straight except for a brief hour of thirty-three degrees on Saturday.

Sunday, February 14, 2021, 3:10pm

"Who were you talking to?" Dawn asked when she came into the study just as I hung up a call on my cellphone.

"I'm sorry, Devo," I said, standing from the desk. "I made reservations for us at a new restaurant in Deep Ellum, but that was the owner calling. She's closing early due to the weather."

"Oh, that's too bad," she softly whined, understanding a surprise I'd planned wouldn't happen. "Valentine's, Easter, and Mother's Day are the top revenue spots on restaurants' calendars. I'm sure it's a tough call for any owner to make, but I think they're doing the right thing to let their staff get home before the roads get too bad."

We both looked out the window at a sight neither of us had seen at our present home. Snow was beginning to accumulate on the streets.

Northerners: Don't judge. You're accustomed to such things, have numerous ways to cope, and have infrastructure built on the expectation of such foul weather. Transplants to the southern US, like me, lose those skills due to lack of practice.

Snow in north Texas is rare, but usually isn't too much of a concern because it typically falls, other than bridges and overpasses, on surfaces which are above the freezing point. But, since it'd been below freezing for several days already, the ground temperatures had ample time to chill, and driving was quickly becoming hazardous.

"Let's not let it put a dent in the evening. We can still have a nice date night right here."

I smiled. "Yeah? What do you propose?"

Dawn gave me a sweet little smooch before she suggested, "Let's make dinner together."

We prepared a delicious meal. Homemade cheese pizza was baked for Aaron, and a fusion of Anglo and Asian influences topped our pie of spicy sauce, meats, and veggies.

After he'd had his bath, I put Aaron into his bed.

My wife and I settled into ours and turned on the ten o'clock news.

The anchor said, "Temperatures are already at record lows all across the state, and they're only going to continue to fall overnight, as will the snow. At Dallas Fort Worth International, the six-year snow drought has ended. One inch fell six years ago, and two have fallen already tonight. There's more to come.

"The Electric Reliability Council of Texas, ERCOT, has backpedaled on their assurances of this morning. They are now warning that load-shedding measures, rolling blackouts, may be implemented to protect the integrity of the grid. They are asking all Texans to avoid unnecessary electricity consumption and for residents whose homes are equipped with electric heaters to set their thermostats to no higher than sixty-eight degrees."

"That doesn't sound good," Dawn said.

"I know. I hope they know what they're talking about."

"Remember the weather, what was it, eight or nine years ago?" she asked.

"Ten. That was the wicked snow and ice storm when the Superbowl was here in Dallas."

"That cold snap wasn't as long. Sounds like this is worse."

"I hope not, but I've got a faucet in one of the guest bathrooms dripping."

She laughed. "What's that supposed to accomplish other than raising our water bill?"

Her unfamiliarity didn't surprise me. She'd grown up in southeast Asia before Miami, went to school in Georgia, worked near Orlando for a couple of years, then moved to the Dallas area. Protocols for dealing with extreme cold were not familiar to her or her guardians, whereas I grew up in the upper midwest and learned such things from my father.

"It can help keep pipes from bursting. A water pipe freezes from the outside toward the inside, so a dripping faucet allows the back pressure a way to escape. Theoretically. I texted Binh to do the same thing in their bathroom sink."

"Makes sense."

"Done quizzing me?" I asked with a grin.

"Yeah." She smiled back sweetly.

I settled close to her, encouraging her to snuggle her warmth with me.

She rolled to her side and draped her left thigh across both of mine.

"Turn off the TV," she whispered.

"Happy Valentines, my forever," I whispered as I pressed the button on the remote.

We kissed tenderly, and lovingly celebrated the holiday known for hearts and red roses.

Monday, February 15, 2021, 6:45am

An unfamiliar noise awakened me. The digital clock's display was dark. The sound was its fail-safe alarm's piercing, shrill beeps instead of the WBAP morning news from its radio. It was brighter in the room than typical for that time of morning, an effect I remembered from my childhood.

It was a learned response. I knew the additional illumination could only come from the reflectivity of snow-covered ground. I was almost giddy with fond memories of building forts and having snowball wars with friends around the neighborhood in which I lived almost four decades before.

I eased the covers off myself, careful not to disturb my wife's slumber. My smile turned to a frown when I realized how chilly it was in the room.

I confirmed my first suspicion by looking out the window to see about five inches of snow on the outdoor furniture situated near the pool. What set my mind into a sudden panic, though, was when I also saw snow covering the entire surface of the pool itself. Circulating water takes a long time to chill to the freezing point. Since ours had iced over, it meant the pumps must have stopped.

We weren't in the middle of a rolling blackout. No, the power had been off long enough that the house wasn't at its programmed morning temperature of 72 degrees and felt even colder than the overnight set point of 65.

I went to the study. The computer was off. Its UPS's batteries had been drained. I checked the battery-powered weather station display. The outside temperature was seven degrees. The inside temperature was showing fifty-nine.

I went back to our bedroom and changed into warmer clothes.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked from our bed, observing my hurried movements.

"Don't get out of there if you know what's good for you." I chuckled ruefully. "It's cold. The power is out. It's not even sixty degrees on the other side of your covers."

"I can tell. I feel it on my face. How long has it been off?"

"Not sure yet, but the pool is iced over which means it's been a while. I'm guessing four or five hours, at least."

"The news said outages would only be thirty minutes or so."

"They were wrong."

She ignored my advice and slipped out of the bed.

"I need coffee," she murmured, more to herself than me, once she'd changed into a pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, then a jersey sweater.

She left the room, making a beeline to our son's. Thankfully, his room was warmer than ours since it only has a single exterior wall whereas the master suite has three. He was still soundly sleeping. Dawn tucked an extra knitted afghan over him then walked to the kitchen.

Since the pandemic began, Dawn seldom dressed "professionally," not that I cared. Her incredibly fit figure is flattered by even the most mundane apparel, but I missed seeing her in a sexier-than-hell business suit. Skirt or slacks, it doesn't matter. Her sculpted body is just so beautiful in form-fitting clothes. The fact that she's a woman of high professional standing adds even more to her allure.

She occasionally dresses like the corporate vice president she is, but only from the waist up when she needs to be on camera during videoconferences. Much more often than not, she dresses very casually.

For me? Cargo shorts, check. T-shirts with random silk-screened memes, check. Houston Astros, Texas Rangers, or Frisco RoughRiders baseball cap to hide my hair? Double-check. But not that day. I chose jeans and one of only two long-sleeved sweatshirts I have. I even put a jacket on over it.

"How are you gonna make coffee without electricity?" I asked.

"Same way you're keeping the pipes from bursting," she said. "I have my own tricks."

"Excellent. Would you fix me a cup, too, please? And, if I don't come back in ten minutes, send a rescue party. I'm going to go check on your folks," I said, referring to her aunt and uncle residing in the guest house.

Dawn's aunt is her birth mother's sister. With her husband of more than fifty years, they are her de facto parents. They'd raised her in Miami from the age of nine when she'd been expatriated by the Vietnamese government. It happened a few months after Dawn's mother was killed when a motorcycle struck her as she walked to Dawn's school. Dawn's father had been a victim of a construction accident before she was born. We relocated her aunt and uncle from Miami to the guest house we'd built for them on our two-acre homestead in Royce City, Texas, an outlying suburb northeast of Dallas.

They saw me approaching through one of the side windows and waved at me. They were bundled up in layers. Her uncle met me at the front door.

"We are safe and warm, William," he reassured me in broken but easily understood English. "We do not know this kind of thing!" he said, gesturing to the snow-covered porch.

"It is very unusual, Binh. It is strange for me and Dawn, too!"

"Now more cold is coming in, so I need to shut!"

"Call or come get us if you need anything!" I yelled through the door he closed.

"Okay!" he responded.

I walked to the side of our house to check the state of the pool equipment. My heart immediately sank when I saw the DE filter and the casings of both primary pumps had wide cracks with ice jutting through the openings. The booster did, as well. Several inches of PVC piping were similarly wounded along with valves and their servos.

I said all the curse words I could think of before I reentered the house. I didn't want to take my frustration out on my wife or son.

She handed me a cup of steaming coffee in an insulated mug. "Are they okay?"

"How'd you make this?" I asked, sipping the delicious, body-warming brew.

"Simple. Old-school. I brought some water up to a boil on the stove, then very slowly drizzled it through a filter full of coffee grounds.

I sipped again. "Huh-uh," I said. "It wouldn't be this good. Besides, we don't have that type of brewer. Only the Keurig."

"I made it with the French press," she admitted with a sweet smile.

I laughed. I'd forgotten she had one.

"It's incredibly good. You might have to do this more often," I said with a wink.

"Well?" she nudged, "how're they doing over there?"

"Both of them are all bundled up in layers. Binh assured me they're okay."

"Good. I worry about them."

"They're in good shape. Worry about the pool, instead"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Everything's frozen solid. The filter, both primaries and the cleaner's booster pump, and some of the pipes are split open, automation servos broken. Like probably everything above the ground."

"Oh, hell," Dawn moaned.

"Yeah. This is no rolling blackout. The outage map says there's hundreds of thousands of meters in the metro area without power, and a lot more than that system wide. But, at least, the ETA they're showing for restoration for our neighborhood is only an hour from now."

"Sounds like Mother Nature is being a particularly frigid woman," she quipped.

I chuckled at her allusion. "I hope we can get repairs made before spring, because I'm sure we're hardly the only pool owner with damage. It'll turn into a swamp."

I went to the garage and switched off the three breakers which powered the equipment because I knew sending restored electricity to motors seized with ice would be not only pointless, but probably catastrophic.

"Honey, come here," Dawn said and motioned to me with her hands when I returned through the door.

She enrobed me in a gentle embrace. "It's just a swimming pool. We'll be okay."

Her soft and soothing tone reassured and recentered me.

"You're right, Devo." I sighed in her clutch. "What are you going to do to work?"

"There's no WiFi, of course, and my cell's hotspot is a lot slower than usual. I doubt anyone else without electricity is doing any better."

"I'm going to tell my division to try to do whatever is reasonable to get online, but not to feel they need to take a day of vacation if they can't."

"Good boy." She smiled at me. "I imagine Beth will advise the same for all of us."

Bethany Welsley is Dawn's supervisor and the CIO at the company at which my wife has been employed for about four years.

The estimated power restoration time was repeatedly revised to be later in the day. We managed to stay warm and kept Aaron as busy and distracted as we could. Though the fireplace couldn't heat the entire house, it was comfortable when we played games or read stories or ate meals in front of it.

By nine o'clock that night, the electricity still hadn't come back on. Throughout the day, we could only charge our phones, laptops, and other devices via the USB ports in the cars, which was a slow process due to their low-power sockets.

"I'm sure my folks will be okay, but I'm worried about Aaron. It's supposed to be even colder tonight than it was last night."

He'd already eaten his favorite dish of macaroni cheese wheels which Dawn prepared in a sauce pan instead of the microwave.

"Yeah. I know," I agreed, looking at his sleeping form a few yards from the fireplace.

Most of our cooking appliances are, thankfully, fueled by natural gas, so we were able to prepare hot meals. Of course, the refrigerator and freezer aren't.

Dawn said several frozen items were beginning to soften. "Give me a hand. We need to get stuff out of the freezer. Things are starting to thaw."

"Where are you planning on putting it? The deep-freeze in the garage is already full."

"On the back porch."

"What about raccoons and rats? They'll certainly be foraging."

"We can put stuff in coolers and put landscaping stones or something heavy on the lids. If hungry critters manage to get into them …? Well. More power to 'em."

I chuckled. "That's a great idea."

We spent fifteen minutes transferring twenty or thirty pounds of frozen food out of an appliance which couldn't do its job to a location that was decidedly and already deeply frozen. The stuff in the fridge was far less volatile, so we left that side undisturbed. I dumped the contents of the under-cabinet ice maker into a container and put it in the fridge to keep it cool even longer.

An idea struck me while we worked.

"Hey, Devo? Would you grab that lantern and the flashlight and help me in the garage?"

"Why?" she asked, following me with the lights.

"I'm going to take the battery out of my truck and hook it up to an inverter I used to use in my Lexus."

"Again, why?"

"I think I might be able to power the electric blanket you like to use when you read. If it works, it'll keep Aaron nice and warm all night."

"You can do that?"

"I can try," I said, not too sure myself.

I popped the hood of my SUV, then disconnected and removed the battery. I found the inverter in a storage bin on one of the shelves. A coil of Romex the builders had left behind in the attic hung on the pegboard.

I brought the materials into the relative warmth of the house, then went back for tools. I cut roughly three feet of Romex from the roll, then split the segment to remove the conductors. I stripped the ends, then coiled an end of the black wire to the positive and the white to the negative battery posts and secured them with large binder clips I found in the study.

"Sorry, babe. Quod est necessarium est licitum ," I said, drawing her favored, extremely sharp cleaver from the block.

She laughed so hard she snorted. "Did you just Big Bang me?"

I nodded, then used it to cleave the plastic end off the inverter's plug. I carefully extracted the wires. The black one was joined to the battery's white, and its red to the black. I wire-nutted the pairs and the green LED illuminated confirming the inverter was functioning.

Into the inverter, I plugged the electric blanket Dawn was holding. The twenty-five-percent indicator assured me it was barely taxed.

A few moments later, Dawn grinned. "It's getting warm."

"Nice."

She chuckled. "I'm keeping this myself. Aaron's going to have to find his own."

I knew she didn't mean it.

I disconnected the parts and carried the heavy battery behind my wife who'd carefully taken our son into her arms. We went as silently as we could into his room. She placed him in his bed and tucked the blanket around him, and I reconnected the apparatus. I situated the battery and inverter where they wouldn't pose a hazard if he awakened and departed his small bed.