There wasn’t much that the storm hadn’t touched. I stood out on the balcony that led to our room, looking out. The sun hadn’t risen fully yet, but the line of golden predawn light illuminated enough of the mess. I itched to clean it up.
Footsteps sounded against the floor, and I stuck my head in the room. Everett took a seat on the edge of the bed, studying Scarlett’s sleeping form. His hand came to her head, stroking her hair. His wide shoulders shook with grief.
“Daddy?” she whispered. Her voice was still submersed in sleep. The finer pieces of her hair stuck up, outlined by the oncoming morning.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said, sniffing.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine. Just fine.” He released a shaky breath. “I’m just so sorry.”
He pulled her to him, a limp doll in his strong arms, her head against his chest. I stepped back onto the balcony to give them some privacy.
Leaning against the stone, I watched as the sun rose, fully revealing fallen branches, downed trees, piles of soggy leaves, and general debris. Puddles of water sat in craters, the trees dripped, and a river ran down the hill. The rose garden was nothing but an echo of its former self. All of the bushes were bare, turned into skeletons, except for the occasional thorn.
Tito emerged from the house, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. His other hand sat on his hip, and his eyes calculated the damage of the storm. His breath blew out in misty clouds.
“I brought breakfast,” Pnina’s voice carried in the room.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Nonsense,” her father said, his voice almost even after the rare show of emotion. “You have to eat.”
This game of word ping-pong went back and forth. Everett demanded that she eat. Pnina named off all of the things Eunice had cooked and sent up.
“I’ll eat in a bit.” Though Scarlett’s voice was polite, it was firm, officially ending the back and forth. “Where’s Brando?”
“Out on the balcony,” Pnina said, sighing.
“Oh,” she said, sitting up when she saw me. Her hair rose around her in an auburn halo. “Where are you going?” Her tone was almost accusing.
I had already dressed in a thermal shirt, jeans, a beanie, and boots. “Not far,” I said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. I stood there for a moment, breathing her in, before I moved. “I’m going to clean up some of the mess outside.”
“What mess?”
“We had a storm last night.”
She tilted her head, a confused look on her face.
Pnina looked at Everett. Everett looked at me. I stared at my wife. She didn’t remember the storm.
“Eat with me before I go.” I took a seat next to her on the bed, running my fingers through her hair. “I haven’t had anything either.”
She nodded, the slightest of movements. But first she wanted the bathroom. Of course, among other things, she had to brush her teeth. She refused to meet my eyes as she did.
Once she was settled again, Pnina handed me the tray, and I stabbed a piece of omelet, eating first. Then I fed her. This went on until the entire plate was almost gone. Hope sprang up in me, but when I went to grab a biscuit, she shook her head.
“I’m full.”
It was better than one bite, at least.
I handed Pnina the tray and then stood up, kissing my wife on the lips this time. She didn’t move her face, but her eyes drew down afterward. I told her I’d be outside if she needed me.
Entering the kitchen, I walked through déjà vu, except this time it was Eunice and Charlotte squaring off.
“I need you!” Charlotte said, arms crossed.
Travis sat at the table, reading the paper and slurping his coffee. Yeah, he slurped. The noise came close to nails on a fucking chalkboard inside of my head.
