It’s kind of ironic. There’s a storm inside me, and now there’s one at our front door. Is it still our front door? Will I still stay here after this is over? If nothing else, I’m glad that I can be here for Wyatt during his first hurricane, and that he can be here for me to keep me from being so afraid because of the past hurricanes I’ve experienced.
The rain starts up slow at first, a few big drops hitting the roof, but it quickly turns heavy. Rain pounds on the shingles, plinking against the glass windows. We watch as the wind blows the rain in sheets. The maple tree that normally stands tall and proud outside of Wyatt’s front door is shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail.Danger, it says, and I know when to listen.
“Consider this your Texas lesson’s final test,” I joke, trying to find some humor in the situation.
“That’s not fair, they don’t get hurricanes in Dallas.”
I giggle at his seriousness. “That is true, but they get tornadoes, which are worse, in a way, since they can come unexpectedly.”
“I guess you’re right,” he sighs, his head heavy on top of mine as he holds me.
I want to tell him that I’m going to find a way for us to be together where no one has to give something up, but it doesn’t seem like the right time. Depending on what kind of damages we wake up to tomorrow, that might not be the right time either. If the power is going to be out for a couple days or a week, this will be the best of days for a while. It’ll only get hotter after the storm is gone, and without any way to get cool. I’ve lived it after a couple other hurricanes. The only real guarantee is that it’s going to go out with a category three storm.
“Wyatt,” I say, not really knowing how to start. How to change the pace and the topic of the last forty-eight hours in anticipation of this weather event. But I feel like, at the very least, I should apologize for my anger the other night.
“Nash,” he says back, imitating the way I said it. Even now in the face of his first hurricane he’s teasing me.
My next words die on my lips as the power flickers once, twice, and goes out. The light goes away, taking my words with it. The darkness with no glow from the electronics or the streetlights outside is so complete, I bump the coffee table on my way to standing. “I’ll get the flashlight.”
I set the flashlight on the coffee table in front of us. I settle back down on the couch. “It’s probably better to try and get some sleep now. With the AC not running, it’s going to get toasty in here quick.”
“Fun,” says Wyatt sarcastically. He scoots his back upagainst the back of the couch and pats the space in front of him. I lie down where he wants me, and he throws a light blanket over us, then lets his arm rest across my hips.
You never realize how much noise electricity makes just by being on. Outside of cars driving by, music playing, the TV on, everything makes a slight humming noise, and the overwhelming silence of it when it’s gone rings in your ears. The house is heavy with it. A millisecond later the air is filled with the hum of people’s automatic generators switching on. It’s like the drone of a thousand worker bees humming in the background.
“Goodnight, Wyatt.”
“Goodnight, Nash,” he whispers.
With his strong arm around me I’m not afraid of the hurricane that’s coming. I trust Wyatt would never let anything bad happen to me, but I definitely thought my first night back with Wyatt would go differently than this. I worried he would tell me to pack my bags. That I hurt him too badly for him to stand the sight of me any longer. Or maybe I would be the one who wanted to leave. Living with him after refusing to let him give up Wisconsin for me would be cruel. If I kept myself away, he would get over me eventually. Now we’ll never know because…here we are.
Tomorrow we could wake up to the devastation of thousands. Some people might need to be rescued from the roofs of their houses. There’s a chance there will be no damages besides the power that goes out whenever a fly sneezes or the devastation of our relationship once we finally talk, but we won’t know until the sun comes up on another day.
Chapter Sixty-One
WYATT
The nights in Poblocki can be quiet. There’s no traffic noise or rowdy neighbors besides the animals, but the type of quiet with the power down is different. The generators are still running all around us. It seems like my house is the only one that doesn’t have one. I’ll have to fix that immediately. Don’t know why no one told me that I needed one or that it was even an option.
Nash is hot on my arm since the air conditioning isn’t working, but I’m relieved to see her there. We didn’t get swept away by flood waters; the wind didn’t tear the roof off my house. She’s safe. I’m safe. That’s all I could ask for on the morning after my first hurricane.
My stirring wakes her. “Good morning,” I whisper. It feels like talking will be yelling in this silence.
“Good morning.” She stretches her hands over her head. I’m sure sleeping on this couch wasn’t the most comfortable, both of us being giants and all. But if it’s the safest, I’m glad we did.
“Should we get something to eat?” I’m starving even afterboth of the burgers I ate last night. All that worrying worked up an appetite.
“How’s peanut butter sandwiches sound? The power has been out long enough that everything in the fridge is already trash. But the freezer should last forty-eight hours.”
“What are the chances the power will be back on by then?”
She thinks for a second, surely considering all her previous hurricane experiences. “Medium.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means some areas might get power back quickly while other’s will be in isolated pockets of outages for longer. You’re not that far from the big hospitals, so hopefully you get it quick.”
“Hopefully.”