Rule #14
EVERYTHING IS HARDER IN THE DARK. EVERYTHING.
CAI
When the power goes out, the issue with using the bathroom is that the toilet doesn’t refill.
I sit on the closed toilet lid in the dark, phone clutched in my hand like it might fly away if I loosen my grip.
The bucket of water we keep handy for just such a situation sits untouched beside the tub.
I’m not here to use the bathroom. I’m here to hide.
Trevor’s text glows on the screen. I read it for the umpteenth time.
Trevor
LMAO You’re so crazy babe. I’ll talk to you later.
Ten words and one laughing emoji. That’s it.
My emotions ricochet wildly; offended, angry, sad, and, worst of all, a pathetic little flicker of flattered at his referring to me as “babe.” Part of me wanted him to sound hurt, or jealous, or even remorseful.
Another part hoped he’d stay gone so I could finally let go.
This casual dismissal, however, like my entire dramatic flight and the lies I’d told my family, is nothing but a joke… has left me completely unmoored.
I shove the phone back into my pocket, hard enough that it almost tears through the thin material of my kaftan. Staring at it isn’t going to make any of this make sense. Nothing is going to make any of this make sense.
I leap to my feet and take a deep breath, trying to pull myself together before heading back to the den. The bathroom I was in wasn’t the closest to the den, but the one a little farther away, which I’d chosen to ensure I remained undisturbed.
The walk back gives me a little more time to collect myself, and as I approach the den doorway, I can hear laughter, my siblings’ familiar overlapping voices, and underneath it, Sonny’s quieter, warmer laugh.
I slow down, suddenly curious about what is being discussed.
“I’m pretty sure I was the only person in high school who paid their younger sister to do their homework,” Alex is saying, clearly in the middle of a story about me. “She was brilliant, though. It would take her seconds to write what would take me all night.”
“Really? And she was cool about this?” Sonny sounds disbelieving.
Alex scoffs. “Yeah, right. She was cool for like a second, then got the bare minimum of questioning from Mama, and she spilled the beans. Made it sound like I had manipulated her into it.”
“I remember that!” Crispi chimes in. “She was sobbing. I thought she was hurt!”
“Nope, just snitching on me.”
“Some people don’t do ‘bad’ behavior well,” Sonny adds, his tone light but thoughtful.
The words strike a chord in me. Is he thinking about the closet? The moment I could have thrown caution to the wind and given in? Would he have preferred it if I were more morally grey?
“Cai doesn’t do bad at all,” Alex continues. “She barely speaks up for herself.”
She is making me sound like a spineless victim. I am beginning to feel a little offended, but I had just come from the bathroom, where I was obsessing over texts from my cheating boyfriend.
I turn into the room and do my best to sound neutral. “Hey, sorry if that took long. Everything’s harder in the dark.”
A smile crosses Sonny’s face as soon as we make eye contact. He has a way of looking at me that feels like we’re communicating in our own silent language. Even now, his eyes tell me he has a quip he just has to say.
“That’s what she said,” he jokes, and Crispi snorts.
I am about to suggest we break off and call it a night when there is the sound of breaking glass. We all freeze. I had all but forgotten about the hurricane, too distracted by the internal struggle to pay any mind to the actual storm.
Crispi snaps into action. “Alex, go check on the kids. I’ll go check the living room and kitchen. Cai, check the front rooms and your room.”
I give him a tight nod and gesture for Sonny to follow me. His eyes dart around the room. In the hallway, he asks me, “Do we think that’s a window that broke? Is that what we are looking for?”
“That’s the worst-case scenario. Probably nothing; a wine glass or something. I don’t hear any wind or rain, so it’s doubtful it’s a window.” We turn into one of the bathrooms and scan it quickly.
“So none of this phases you? The hurricane-force wind? The potential flooding? None of it?”
“I didn’t say that,” I say, pressing a finger to my lips to make sure he stays quiet as we open the door to the room where Abuela is sleeping.
Soft snores, peaceful and oblivious to the roaring storm outside, reach my ears as I quickly pass my flashlight beam over the floor. Nothing seems to explain the sound, so I take a step back and close the door. I hadn’t realized how close I was to Sonny; I push right into him.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as inhale. Sonny’s body is hard and somehow still accepting of my softness up against him.
I turn, moving slightly away from him. “Oops, I’m sorry.”
Sonny looks at me with hunger and passion. “I’m not.”
His eyes flick to my mouth and mine to his. His lips look soft and part slightly. They call to me. My non-flashlight hand starts to move towards his chiseled jaw, longing to trace it. A stirring in my belly has begun: a tugging and pulling between my legs that makes me tingle with excitement.
The lack of control scares me a little but also thrills me. My little inner gremlin chimes in. You can be bad. Give in. Sonny is so hot, and he’s just looking for a good time. You could be a good time. Just have fun. You know Trevor is.
“Tornados!” I blurt out. I won’t be like Trevor. I won’t let someone like him change me.
“Chicken,” my inner gremlin says before ducking away.
Sonny blinks a few times as if waking up.
“Huh?”
“When it comes to hurricanes, I am scared of tornadoes.”
Sonny clears his throat and steps aside. “Oh, right. But aren’t hurricanes like tornadoes?”
With another step back, I have some space to breathe.
I’m a little lightheaded. “No, not really. Hurricanes can have tornadoes, but they’re not the same.
Tornadoes always seemed uber dangerous and random with no warning.
So scary. I feel that there are hurricane warnings, and you can prepare and make a plan for one.
But tornadoes are just deadly, sudden, and terrifying destruction.
Like the movie Twister. That movie always scared me. Jaws, too.”
“The movies you have an emotional reaction to say a lot about you,” Sonny says. “There’s a personality test there.”
“Oh yeah? What does it say about me?”
Sonny gives a slight shrug. “Oh, I don’t know.
Something about your biggest fear being the terror of the unknown and darkness.
I bet you plan for everything, huh? You try to avoid danger at all costs and have a plan for every eventuality.
The outcomes you can’t change, you try to force to bend to your will. ”
Well, that’s a little too spot on for my taste.
“I thought you were going to say it meant I watch too many movies or that Sharknado must’ve terrified me.”
“Well, pot and kettle,” Sonny points to himself and then to me. “I think we watch the right amount of movies. Also, you’ve seen Sharknado?! I thought I was the only one who liked so-bad-that-it-is-good movies!”
“Sharknado is a cinematic masterpiece!” I say.
“Ever seen it with the Rifftrax?” he asks, smiling.
“What’s a Rifftrax?”
Sonny’s face lights up. “No way can I explain that, but I think we might be pop culture kindred spirits, so I’m sure you’ll love it.”
I’m sure he’s right. Trevor could never be bothered to watch shows I enjoyed with me, or even sit through a movie. Usually, I am alone in my little references, but Sonny appears to be getting them all.
“We should plan to watch one together,” he says.
The unease that has by now become familiar hits me again.
There is nothing wrong with Sonny showing interest in me.
God knows I am enjoying the attention of this attractive, successful man, and my body is reacting to him like the tide to the moon.
But Trevor’s text is still on my mind. He still called me “Babe.” I’m not sure what the right thing to do here is.
Sure, Trevor is a shit, but I would be too if I reciprocate, right?
“Here,” I say, handing Sonny the flashlight. “The kitchen has some obstacles that might need moving if the issue is there. Can you go ahead and see if Crispi needs any help? There’s one more bathroom for me to check, and then I’ll join you.”
I don’t think Crispi needs his help, but I don’t trust myself in these dark, close quarters with Sonny. He nods and gives me a little salute as he heads down the hall.
The last bathroom to check is the one I’d hidden in earlier. It is the last door on the right, down from my childhood bedroom. A quick look, and then I’ll join Crispi and Sonny in the kitchen.
With my phone’s flashlight on, I quickly scan the room.
My phone light stops when I see something glistening in the bathtub.
I walk in to have a closer look. The remains of a stained-glass ornament now lie inside the tub.
It had lived on the windowsill before. Since we don’t tape or even board the frosted windows in the bathroom, no one had caught this.
I am surprised the glass breaking is so loud.
When I set my phone down on the porcelain tub, however, the sound reverberates, magnified by the tub. Well, that solves that mystery.
I pick out some of the larger pieces, but I’ll need to come back with a proper broom to get this cleaned up. Grabbing my phone, I move the light, scanning the floor to make sure the glass was contained in the tub.
The phone buzzes in my hand. It doesn’t hit me at first what this meant, but then it dawns on me. I freeze in my tracks. I have a signal!
The buzz is for some nonsense notification, but there it was, like a struggling heartbeat; the smallest bar is filled in. I don’t move for fear of losing it. I quickly open Trevor’s text. There is nothing new, but I want to get out a reply.
My head is spinning with all the things I want—no, need— to say, and all the things that need to be said.