It was 5:30 a.m. I was trying to catch some sleep after Fajr morning prayer, when it went quiet. So quiet I could hear it. So quiet it felt dead. When the A/C shuts down, the fan keeps running, so there is this whirring that breathes life into the room. I heard nothing. Life had stopped.
OMG! Did we lose power? Half-asleep, I rolled over and look at the alarm clock. Dark screen.
My friends Ron and Sandy lost power after Isaias stormed into New York City. The Power-That-Be announced that electricity won’t be restored for another three days. Just last night I was asking my husband Khalid if we were prepared for a power outage, but I wasn’t earnest enough to put down my book, get out of my chair, and take an inventory of emergency supplies.
Were we prepared? Throughout the lock-down, I felt grateful that we had heat, electricity, and gas. Well, now in the middle of a scorching heat wave, in the city of concrete and steel, we may roast.
As long as I have my cell phone, I am good. Wait! Did I charge my phone before going to bed? Do I still have that portable phone charger, the finicky freebie that kept losing charge? I think I got rid of it. First thing in the morning, I have to go to Starbucks and charge my phone. No, wait! Coffee shops are take-out only. Wonder where the closest roadside charging station is? Unless it is powered out too? Uh!
Breakfast. Can’t use the microwave to cook my oatmeal. Maybe we can have egg and toast. Oh! No toaster. Well, just boiled egg and a glass of milk. Quickly grab, and shut the fridge door. Conserve, conserve, conserve. Don’t even think about opening the freezer. Why do we freeze so much stuff! Now it will rot. My morning coffee? Our coffeemaker is the best, better than Starbucks. Well, let it be its ‘day of rest.’ As long as I have gas—thank God—I can boil the water and use the drip coffeemaker.
How are we going to get through the hot day? This apartment will turn into a steaming sauna. We will take the air-conditioned bus to Central Park—why walk and be hot— and spend the day there. Pack up the weekend newspapers, my Kindle, some chilled water—not from the fridge, which has to stay closed—but from the bodega and stay under a shady tree.
Lunch. We can’t prepare our usual salad. Fridge is off-limits. Maybe pick up a sandwich from the deli.
Oh No! I have all these Zoom meetings today! Well, if I am going to be in the park with no wi-fi, that does it. As soon as my phone is charged, I will let my granddaughter Asha know that Arabic class is cancelled, no Urdu class for Laila, skip Jumma prayer, and let Michele know that I won’t be joining our Writing Group. That is how many text messages draining the battery? I think I will first stop at the hardware store and see if they have a portable phone charger that is ready-to-go. But what if the power is restored in time for my Writers Group meeting at 4:30 p.m.? I should at least have something to share, as in something I have written. Except that I was planning to write something first thing in the morning. Is my laptop fully charged? Should I use up its charge instead of saving it for a valid emergency?
Dinner. Can’t open the fridge, so let’s dine out. Perhaps to one of the street-side restaurants, with white canopies and stringing lights. Would they need reservations for a Friday evening? What if it is super crowded with no mask-wearers? There is this Turkish place, Persian, Italian…hmmm, lets see, maybe Boqueria. I love their Tapas.
What do we do when it gets dark? Thank God it’s summer; we can sit on the balcony until it’s time to turn in. And do what in the dark? No evening news. I suppose we can just chat. Do we have flashlights?
Just remembered: We had planned this family picnic in the park for Saturday—that’s tomorrow. I am supposed to bring a fruit platter—a chilled platter. I think I can open the fridge just this once. My cousin was planning to drive in from Brooklyn, drop in for a quick bathroom stop before heading to the park. Restrooms in the park are a bit iffy. But my bathroom has no window, which means you are pretty much in the dark, no matter what time of the day. She will need a flashlight. Better stop by the hardware store and get one.
What if power is not back by Sunday? What if it rains and we cannot go to the park? Maybe we can hang out in an airconditioned store. Is there one close-by? Buses are air-conditioned. We can get on the bus on First Avenue, ride all the way to the West Side, hang out in another air-conditioned store, and ride back—spend the day reading on the bus. Then what? Back inside the hot apartment? We should at least have a battery-operated fan.
OMG! Elevators! Scrap the outdoor plans. There is no way we can walk up 20 flights. So much for that.
So quiet. So dark.
Whirr. Whirr. Cool air grazed my cheeks. The alarm clock winked.
Khalid stirred.
P.S.: I had been powerless for 30 minutes.
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