Friday I wokeup to a pitch-black room and wasn’t sure what had happened until I realized that the shutters must be up. I rubbed my eyes and turned on my phone to check the latest weather update, but an alert that said 32 new text messages sidetracked me. Worried that something awful had happened to someone, I sat up in bed and saw that every one of those messages was from Greg. They were a long string of incoherent babble that started off with “I miss yous”, then turned into “I’m sorrys”, and finally into “Are you theres?”
I ignored them and went to my weather app, which blasted red on the entire screen alerting me to a Hurricane warning in the area. I went out to the living room where my father was sitting watching the news anchor interview people who were outside putting on their shutters and grabbing sandbags and plywood. Footage showed empty supermarket aisles where there used to be water and canned foods.
“It looks like it might come,” my dad said, his eyes glued to the TV.
“Do you have enough of your medicines?” I asked him.
“Oh, yes. They gave me enough for a month the other day,” he said. Relieved I went to the kitchen. My mom was filling pitchers with water.
“We’ll need this to brush our teeth if the water gets contaminated,” she said. “I’m going to fill the tubs tonight after we take our showers.”
“Good idea,” I said, remembering that even doing that we had to make due with whatever was left of store-bought water gallons to flush the toilet because the water was turned off for quite some time. I went around collecting our flashlights and candles, replacing the batteries and searching for lighters. Finally, I put everything within easy reach on the kitchen counter.
“Are we missing anything?” I asked.
“Well, besides praying it goes somewhere else, I believe we’re ready. I brought in the potted plants from outside, and your dad put the cars in the garage. It’s supposed to start raining today, so I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere.”
“I don’t have any plans,” I said, at which point we decided we’d have a movie day. By the early afternoon, after Back to the Future Part II, it started to rain. It was nothing out of the ordinary, though. Greg called me twice and sent more texts, all of which I ignored. He was worried about me being in the hurricane, one text read. That’s nice. Was he worried how I’d feel to be cheated on?
I hated to admit it, but secretly I was hoping Harvey would call. A text… anything. Even if it was just to tell me to stay safe. But my phone was silent on that end. Then the rain began in earnest, and it did not stop. Sometimes there were gusts that looked as if they could rip every leaf off the trees, but they passed quickly enough. My dad peeked outside often. After the third Back to the Future, we had enough of films, and the news stayed on the rest of the night. The storm was just offshore, and the next update was due in three minutes.
The three of us were watching it, passing around popcorn, when my phone rang again. I wanted to throw it out into the storm and let it drown, but then I saw it wasn’t Greg. Harvey was calling. My heart sped up, and I pressed the green button as I walked to my room.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Audrey,” Harvey said.
“Hi, Harvey.” I was smiling. I couldn’t help it. Hearing his voice reminded me of the way he’d whispered in my ear or when he groaned with pleasure.
“I have a huge favor to ask of you.” His tone was serious. My mind shifted gears.
He went on, “I missed my flight, and then when I was waiting for the next one, my mom called me at the airport yesterday afternoon to tell me about this hurricane. I called work and told them I’d be back next week so I could ride it out here with my ma. Anyways, this rain is coming down fast and hard, and it’s creeping up to the front steps already. We were in the voluntary evacuation zone, but they bumped it up to mandatory, and my ma refuses to bother any of her friends. I told her I’d call them to ask, but she says she’d rather go to the shelter than bother them.”
“You can come here,” I said without skipping a beat.
“I think I’m gonna have to trick her. Don’t know why she’s so goddamn adamant about not staying at anyone’s house, but your house is on the way to the shelter. If your parents don’t mind...”
“Absolutely they won’t. Come over now before it gets worse,” I said, walking to the living room to tell my parents.
“Sure, I’m just going to finish getting as much stuff up to the second floor as possible. I’ve already done the pictures and electronics, but maybe I can get at least some of the furniture up there.”
“They’re just things, Harvey. What’s important is you guys are safe and can drive out of there before the roads are washed out.” I was worried for him and Mrs. Garrett.
“That’s another thing, she can’t leave without saving as much as possible. I might have to carry her out kicking and screaming,” he said. I giggled (Mrs. Garrett is a large woman), and we hung up. When I told my parents, my mom jumped into hostess mode and took out fresh linens for the guest bedroom and the sofa bed in the living room. Then I saw her filling up even more containers with water.
“Just in case,” she said when she saw I was watching her. I looked out the window, and, while it was still raining, there was no accumulation of water up this way. Passing the hallway in the mirror, I saw I was in my too-big pajamas, and my hair was up in a disastrous puff of a bun.
“I’m going to shower now!” I yelled out and ran to my room to grab my new clothes. I ripped off the tags and heard my mom convince my dad to go bathe as well.
After my quick shower, I applied mascara and powder to my face, trying to look as natural as possible while wearing my new jeans with casual sandals and a white t-shirt. I hoped I didn’t look like I had just dolled up to see Harvey. Which I had, but he didn’t need to know that. I spritzed light perfume and applied a tinted chapstick.
A few minutes later my mom was scrubbing the bathtubs with bleach, getting them ready to fill up, and I heard a knock downstairs. In the spirit of playing hard to get, I didn’t answer the door and let my dad go greet them. I stood at the top of the stairs, out of sight and feeling insanely giddy. What was I—15?
“Hello Mr. Whitman, thank you so much for letting us stay here,” I heard Harvey say.
“Thank you, Elton,” I heard Mrs. Garrett say, “But we could have easily gone to the shelter like I told Harvey here. I don’t know why he had to come and bother you on such a night.”
“Don’t you worry about it. Now come in. It’s picking up again out there,” my father said, and right then there began a deluge accompanied by a wind that sounded as if the hurricane was already there. I heard my mom’s voice as she greeted them.
