“That wouldn’t have done a thing. We need to get you into self-defense classes,” he said. I smiled, but looked to his hand and noticed it was bleeding through the paper towel.
“What happened?” I reached for his hand. He pulled it away.
“I sliced it with a saw. But it’s not that deep, and the firefighter said it shouldn’t need stitches. He was going to clean it for me, but I ran over here. I didn’t want them wasting their resources on me. There are people trapped in there, Audrey,” he said gravely.
“Hold on, there’s a first aid kit in here somewhere with gauze, tape, and triple antibiotic cream. First clean it with water, and here,” I said handing him the hydrogen peroxide, “Pour this on it.”
“Are you kidding? That hurts like a bitch,” he said, shaking his head.
“Don’t be a baby. You just cut your hand with a saw, and you’re worried about a little peroxide?” It would sting like hell, but he needed it. He snatched the bottle from my hand and went over to the sink.
“The water’s off,” he said, trying at the handle.
“Grab a bottle of water under that cupboard,” I said, searching the drawers and cupboards for the first-aid kit. I found it as Harvey cursed over and over again while he poured the peroxide on the gash. His hand shaking, he poured water over it afterward.
“Better?” I asked. He threw me a nasty look, and I laughed.
“Come here,” I said, patting the wound dry and applying pressure with a clean paper towel. After the bleeding stopped, I applied triple antibiotic cream on it. His hands were rough from the work he’d put in today, and I tingled all over as I touched him. I put the gauze on and secured it with tape. “Done,” I said, looking up at him with a smile. He looked exhausted, and sweaty too, but with no running water at the moment he’d have to do with wiping himself off if that’s what he wanted. I secretly wished I could do him the favor myself, but backed away from him when I saw that familiar gleam in his eyes, remembering the plan to keep my distance.
“Thanks,” he said, his eyes expressing so much more than simple gratitude. Harvey walked right over and put his good hand behind my head, pulling me to him. It was impulsive of him, but my lips met his without a second thought. All traces of reason vanished momentarily. I tasted him, but I wanted more and grabbed at his shirt. He made to take it off, but I stopped him when my good sense returned to me. We pulled apart, my mouth open as I tried to catch my breath and still my heart, which nearly pounded out of my chest. I wanted desperately for him to touch me but…
“Our parents,” I whispered. He was as turned on as I (it was obvious from the way his shorts jutted out in front of him), but he nodded, running his uninjured hand through his hair. At that moment, the guest room door opened. We jumped away from each other, and Mrs. Garrett strutted in, cooing over her injured son. I left them and went to the back door, letting myself outside.
I tried to focus on other things, like the surrounding disaster. The backyard didn’t look much different than the rest of the tossed-about neighborhood, but I sat on a plastic chair that had dried by then. It was much cooler out here than inside, but that wasn’t saying much. The heat invaded everywhere, but with the temperature inside increasing every minute, and not a breeze to go through the house, it was getting stuffy. I didn’t notice it as much until after Harvey kissed me.
Harvey kissed me. Again. It was so mind-blowingly amazing to be kissed by him that I didn’t think I’d be able stop him a third time. I waited for my body to return to normal, but it didn’t. There was a constant buzz now that wouldn’t shut off.
After a while, all the parents joined me, and my dad turned on the barbecue to grill us the meat from the freezer before it went bad. My mom used the little stovetop on the side of the barbecue to make some mashed potatoes, using the milk she had transferred to the freezer that morning. Soon all of it would spoil, and we didn’t know how long this power outage would last. We had listened to the radio in the car that morning, but it hadn’t given us any real timing. The news was that around a million people were without power from the storm. Mrs. Garrett turned on a battery-operated radio now, and we listened to that.
I checked my phone again, and saw a few texts coming through, one of them from Laurie, who asked how we had passed the storm. I texted her back letting her know we were fine. She reported they survived the storm, but she wasn’t too sure how her kids would survive the power outage without TV. I saw Greg’s new string of texts and simply responded, “We’re OK.” I turned off my phone, trying to conserve the battery for emergencies.
Our early dinner was ready, and Mrs. Garrett went inside to wake up her son. Harvey came outside, tired yet hungry. We were all hungry, not having eaten a proper meal until now, and the sun was about to set. I watched the stunning colors in the sky melt into the broken landscape and got bummed out by the state of my life. What would I do now? Live at home with my parents in a small town trying to recover from a natural disaster? I wanted to run away from home, if that made any sense.
Instead, I excused myself and went up to my room. I searched through my drawers with a flashlight, trying to look for momentos from my childhood, but nothing remained. My mom had given it all away back when I told her I had no use for the stuff. Sure, she had some things tucked away in the attic, and of course, she had saved the pictures. Yet I wished a drawer was hidden away like a time capsule filled with concert tickets, school dance souvenirs, or notes from my high school friends. Stuff from a time when life was so much simpler. What I wouldn’t give to go back and become an angsty teen again. I’d tell myself to get over it— that I didn’t know how easy I had it back before my dad had a heart attack, before my husband cheated on me, and before I became a stay-at-home wife with no career of my own.
Who had I become? The only thing to do now was figure out who I wanted to be. All I knew was that I did not want to be the woman that came back to live with her parents after the divorce. That might be fine for some people as a stepping-stone, but I knew myself— it would become my crutch, and I’d stay stuck. I had to get out as soon as possible. These thoughts whirled through my mind as I sat alone in the darkness until a knock at the door broke into my thoughts. I sighed.
“Come in,” I said, figuring it would be my mother, worried (rightfully so) that I’d be sitting alone in the dark. It was.
“Sweetie, the Carters across the street have invited us over for a couple of hours. Come with us. There’s nothing to do here in the dark,” she said.
“No thanks, mom. I might just read by flashlight for an hour or so and then go to sleep early.”
“OK, goodbye,” she said hesitantly, gave me a kiss, and then closed the door. A few minutes later there was another knock.
“Mom, I don’t care to go anywhere,” I called out.
“It’s not your mom,” I heard Harvey’s voice. I got up and opened the door. “They left,” he said, his voice low. He was here for one thing and one thing only, and I wanted the same thing. What the hell. I leaned in for it, the inevitable kiss, and our lips met— no they collided, and then our arms surrounded each other, roaming and finally tugging at clothes.
I let him lift my shirt, revealing one of my new lacy pink bras. Without pause, he kissed my neck. I threw my head back, savoring his mouth on such a sensitive area. His lips traveled the length of my neck, up and down and then farther along to my breasts. His hands found their way behind my back, and he unclasped my bra. It had done its job, but now it lay on the floor, my breasts exposed to Harvey’s eyes. He drank me in with his sight in such a way that I felt embarrassed and even covered myself up with my shirt that had fallen on the bed.
“What are you doing?” he said, reaching for the shirt.
“Why are you staring like that?”
“Cause you’re fucking gorgeous,” he said, stepping forward and grabbing my hands. He pushed my hands and the shirt down. Then he reached up and caressed my breast, my nipple hardening from his touch. “I’ve been wondering what you look like naked, and the reality is so much better than my imagination,” he said and dropped his head towards my nipple, sucking on it. I gave a soft moan, and he reached under me, lifting me up.
I straddled his waist, and he lowered me onto the bed before taking his shirt off. I’d seen him like this before, and I’d seen him with only a towel, but still I was in awe at the muscles on his chest, how his abs seemed to flex in anticipation and then at my touch. He smiled and then swooped in to kiss me once again, our lips locked in a battle neither could win. I needed this. No, I neededhim.
