Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
NASH
Coming home to a hurricane isn’t ideal, but it’s been nice to take my mind off where Wyatt and I are and focus on getting us prepared. Hurricane Arthur is quickly approaching the Texas Gulf Coast.
Growing up here, I’ve been through Hurricane Ike and Hurricane Harvey. The former left us without power for two weeks, the latter dumped forty inches of rain over Houston in three days causing record flooding. This ain’t my first rodeo.
If I’ve learned anything in those years, it’s that it’s better to be safe than sorry. So even though people online are saying this isn’t going to be as bad as Ike or Harvey, I still put new batteries in the flashlight and set it next to the ship to shore radio I insisted Wyatt buy.
By the time we’re settling in on the night the storm is supposed to make landfall, I’m exhausted, but I feel like I’ve got everything done. Now we wait and see how the Texas power grid holds up. (HA—what a joke! It’s not going to hold up.)
I start piling extra blankets on the couch. “I think we should sleep down here. It’s probably safer than being on the top story.”
“Okay, I’ll go get all the pillows from upstairs.”
After we make our hurricane-certified blanket fort in the living room, we settle in to watch more TV. It’s hard not to just watch the weather reports, but I make us take a break from it every now and then. It’s not going to change that much from now until the storm has moved past us anyway.
The anticipation of something bad happening makes the time feel as thick as molasses. The TV plays show after show and we watch and wait.
Around midnight I can hear the start of the wind whistling through the trees. “Do you hear that?” I pause the TV so Wyatt can listen.
“Is that it?”
I nod. “It’s the beginning of the winds hitting us.”
We sit, huddled together, Wyatt’s arms fully wrapped around me, TV paused as we listen to the incoming storm.
It’s kind of ironic. There’s a storm inside me, and now there’s one at our front door.
Is it still our front door? Will I still stay here after this is over?
If nothing else, I’m glad that I can be here for Wyatt during his first hurricane, and that he can be here for me to keep me from being so afraid because of the past hurricanes I’ve experienced.
The rain starts up slow at first, a few big drops hitting the roof, but it quickly turns heavy.
Rain pounds on the shingles, plinking against the glass windows.
We watch as the wind blows the rain in sheets.
The maple tree that normally stands tall and proud outside of Wyatt’s front door is shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail.
Danger, it says, and I know when to listen.
“Consider this your Texas lesson’s final test,” I joke, trying to find some humor in the situation.
“That’s not fair, they don’t get hurricanes in Dallas.”
I giggle at his seriousness. “That is true, but they get tornadoes, which are worse, in a way, since they can come unexpectedly.”
“I guess you’re right,” he sighs, his head heavy on top of mine as he holds me.
I want to tell him that I’m going to find a way for us to be together where no one has to give something up, but it doesn’t seem like the right time.
Depending on what kind of damages we wake up to tomorrow, that might not be the right time either.
If the power is going to be out for a couple days or a week, this will be the best of days for a while.
It’ll only get hotter after the storm is gone, and without any way to get cool.
I’ve lived it after a couple other hurricanes.
The only real guarantee is that it’s going to go out with a category three storm.
“Wyatt,” I say, not really knowing how to start. How to change the pace and the topic of the last forty-eight hours in anticipation of this weather event. But I feel like, at the very least, I should apologize for my anger the other night.
“Nash,” he says back, imitating the way I said it. Even now in the face of his first hurricane he’s teasing me.
My next words die on my lips as the power flickers once, twice, and goes out. The light goes away, taking my words with it. The darkness with no glow from the electronics or the streetlights outside is so complete, I bump the coffee table on my way to standing. “I’ll get the flashlight.”
I set the flashlight on the coffee table in front of us. I settle back down on the couch. “It’s probably better to try and get some sleep now. With the AC not running, it’s going to get toasty in here quick.”
“Fun,” says Wyatt sarcastically. He scoots his back up against the back of the couch and pats the space in front of him. I lie down where he wants me, and he throws a light blanket over us, then lets his arm rest across my hips.
You never realize how much noise electricity makes just by being on.
Outside of cars driving by, music playing, the TV on, everything makes a slight humming noise, and the overwhelming silence of it when it’s gone rings in your ears.
The house is heavy with it. A millisecond later the air is filled with the hum of people’s automatic generators switching on.
It’s like the drone of a thousand worker bees humming in the background.
“Goodnight, Wyatt.”
“Goodnight, Nash,” he whispers.
With his strong arm around me I’m not afraid of the hurricane that’s coming.
I trust Wyatt would never let anything bad happen to me, but I definitely thought my first night back with Wyatt would go differently than this.
I worried he would tell me to pack my bags.
That I hurt him too badly for him to stand the sight of me any longer.
Or maybe I would be the one who wanted to leave.
Living with him after refusing to let him give up Wisconsin for me would be cruel.
If I kept myself away, he would get over me eventually.
Now we’ll never know because…here we are.
Tomorrow we could wake up to the devastation of thousands.
Some people might need to be rescued from the roofs of their houses.
There’s a chance there will be no damages besides the power that goes out whenever a fly sneezes or the devastation of our relationship once we finally talk, but we won’t know until the sun comes up on another day.