2. Chapter 2 Sabrina
Chapter 2: Sabrina
S abrina’s bed shook with the force of the storm raging outside. She grabbed her phone to check the time. Two o’clock. Way too early to be awake for real. Sighing, she checked her messages. There weren’t any. No notifications had popped up, but checking made her feel better.
Growing up in tornado alley had taught her the destruction storms were capable of, but that’s why she loved living here. With no flat place to spin, tornados didn’t stand a chance. Anytime a rotation started to form, it slammed into a mountain. Still, the scent of rain was enough to bring back memories of hiking through a field and then down the side of a road while hoping like hell she wouldn’t be struck by lightning. Rereading Freddy’s messages reminded her that she had a real friend now. He’d never abandon her in the middle of nowhere with no ride home. If she thought there was any chance he found her attractive, she’d totally propose and spend the rest of her life with him. But he didn’t. Freddy didn’t appear to be attracted to anyone, so Sabrina counted herself lucky to be a friend and braced herself for the day he found someone who changed that. Of course, if he were asexual, she wouldn’t have to worry about it.
As the ozone odor that came with intense storms filtered through the cracks around her windows, Sabrina reread Freddy’s messages and imagined them old and gray together. They didn’t need to be anything more than friends. That was enough. She’d have someone to call when it felt like the world was trying to leave her stranded and alone in a storm.
As if on cue, a burst of brightness illuminated her room, and she started counting. One, two, BOOM. The bed vibrated beneath her. Closing her eyes and clutching her phone to her chest, Sabrina reminded herself that she might be alone, but she was safe inside a house that stood through almost a hundred years of storms.
Then she reopened her phone and pulled up her most recent message thread.
Freddy: eating the biggest burger ever for dinner. you gaming?
Sabrina: nah watching crap tv. No burger pic?
Freddy: too late
Sabrina: haha im heading to bed
Freddy: hows your weather
Sabrina: lots of rain and wind is picking up
Freddy: stay safe
Sabrina: you too
Freddy: sleep well
Sabrina: night
This was ridiculous. High school was a long time ago. Tossing her phone back onto her bedside table, Sabrina flopped onto her back and debated if her need to pee was worth leaving the comfort of her bed. She needed more sleep. If she could sleep through the rest of the storm, the morning light would remind her that adult Sabrina’s life was nothing like her childhood. Resolved to do exactly that, she hopped up and dashed out to her bathroom. If she went now, she was less likely to wake up again before dawn.
It was while sitting with her underpants around her ankles that Sabrina heard the crack followed by an indescribably terrifying crash. Suddenly, she wished she’d brought her phone into the bathroom with her. Not that she had any idea what she’d do with it, especially as the room fell dark and silence consumed the usual hums and putters of a house with electrical power. Then again, her phone had a flashlight, and that would be freakin’ awesome.
Finishing her business in the dark, Sabrina tried to block out the raging wind and pelting rain that sounded so much more intense than it had before. She debated feeling her way through the house to find a flashlight or a candle, but it would come with bruised shins and stubbed toes. Since she was going to climb into bed, close her eyes, and wait for morning, that felt unnecessary. Shuffling across the short distance between her bathroom door and her bedroom, she turned the knob.
A fine mist greeted Sabrina, and her first thought was annoyance that she must not have closed all the windows. Except she had. She knew she had.
Her bedroom was too dark to see anything, but the air felt wrong. Wind moved through the space with the chilly spray of water that shouldn’t be inside her house. She breathed in the scent of the forest storm before gasping as another flash of lightning revealed a tree sprawled where she had slept. But the view disappeared in a single blink. It was just enough for all her senses to unite and reveal that the storm had invaded her safe space and stolen her spot in bed.
Without thinking, she reached back and flipped her light switch up and down, knowing it was futile but needing to try anyway. She needed to see, dammit! Another flash of lightning destroyed any adjustment her eyes made to the dark without giving her the time or clarity to see the destruction in detail.
Recoiling from the betrayal of lights remaining dark, she brought her hands to her wet face and brushed away the rain. There were no tears. She’d learned the futility of crying long before she’d been left to walk home through a ferocious spring storm in Nebraska. The only way to change facts and reality was through action.
It would be several hours before the sun came up, and with no phone, no bed, and no power, waiting for daylight was her smartest choice. Trying to drive down windy, dark, mountain roads in a storm that was taking down trees as easily as snapping toothpicks would be suicide.
Fuck.
Why couldn’t the tree have landed in her living room or her office? Why did it have to steal her pillow and snatch away her phone? Suck it up, Buttercup, she recited the phrase her mother intoned every time Sabrina’s father came home high, lost another job, or took off with money set aside for bills. She hadn’t fully understood what it meant until the day they’d found her father dead after he’d shot up and choked on his own vomit in the living room of their doublewide trailer.
Sabrina had been the first one through the door. Her mother, Tracy, stepped in behind her, took in the scene, placed a heavy hand on her nine-year-old’s shoulder, and said, “Suck it up, Buttercup. Guess we’ll be spending the evening cleaning after I get someone to come collect his body.”
She’d gone numb at the sight of her father, but her mom’s words shook free her rage. Yanking from her mother’s grasp, Sabrina had turned and roared at the woman. Not spoken, cried, or screamed, but viscerally roared with anger, grief, confusion, and denial.
To her credit, Tracy hadn’t reacted. She stood calmly in the doorway and waited for Sabrina to quiet down. Then she squatted to eye level with her daughter and explained, “Life is hard. Some people, like your father, can’t handle it because they are weak. You and I are not like that. We’re too strong and too stubborn. Roar, shout, cry. Do whatever you need, but when you’re done, he’ll still be dead, and we’ll still need to clean the vomit from the carpet.”
Sabrina had shoved past her mother and run toward the trailer park’s playground while calling over her shoulder, “No, fuck this bullshit.”
Instead of reprimanding her for swearing, Sabrina’s mom smiled. “The mess’ll still be here when you get back.”
In her young mind, Sabrina had no intentions of going back, but hunger, darkness, and the need for comfort drove her home after just a few hours. Her father was gone. Her mother had changed into chore clothes and was kneeling on the floor scrubbing. There was already a second sponge in the sudsy bucket waiting for Sabrina.
At least tree messes smelled better than vomit.
Tilting her face up to the sky, Sabrina expelled her fear and frustration with the same roar she’d unleashed so many years before. Then she filled her lungs with fresh air. Suck it up, Buttercup. It was time to do what needed to be done.
Flashlight and candles first. Then she could assess the damage better. Obviously, her bedroom was trashed, but the entire tree didn’t fit in just one room. Odds were good the kitchen was suffering, too.
Sabrina’s house was a one-bedroom, one-bath built in the 1940s. There were no hallways, just a room in each corner of the house with a bathroom in the center, using space pulled from the bedroom and kitchen. The other half of the house was supposed to be a dining room and living room, but Sabrina converted the living room to office space and set up her loveseat and TV in the dining room on the day she moved in. It wasn’t like she owned a dining table anyway, and her massive desk didn’t fit anywhere else. She ignored any potential implications about living in her office room.
She shuffled around her office until she found a flashlight without batteries and a candle but no lighter. Suck it up, Buttercup. It wasn’t like she had anyone to blame but herself. Sliding her feet carefully across the floor to avoid stepping on anything painful or bashing her shin harder than necessary, she made her way toward her junk drawer and promised her future self she would get better organized. Then she rummaged through scissors, sewing supplies, and a box cutter. By the time she was holding a flame to the wick of the candle, Sabrina was afraid to look at how bloody her hands were. She’d also invented a few new swear words. No way was she rooting around for band aids, and without power for her well pump, she didn’t have any water either.
Luckily, the pricks and jabs all felt worse than they were. That and a new package of batteries for her flashlight were the only good revealed by candlelight, though. Once she could see the branches and leaves that had smashed her dishes, busted her refrigerator, and cut through the back wall of her home, she couldn’t hold back her laughter. Maybe she was deranged, but there was something about a tree landing exactly where she’d been sleeping during the precise few minutes she was in the bathroom that added a whole new level to her mom’s mantra that Williams women were too stubborn to give up and die.
Patting the wall beside her, Sabrina offered the destroyed structure the only comfort she could. “Thanks for not letting the tree crush me while I was bare-assed, on the toilet.”
She needed to collect as many of her clothes as she could. Everything in the kitchen was a total loss, but the computers in her office should be okay. Her TV and loveseat were fine too. It was something. Come sunrise, she’d try unearthing the coffeepot, but for now, Sabrina curled up under the throw blanket on her loveseat and tried to rest.