Chapter 64
Chapter Sixty-Four
NASH
It’s close enough to dusk that most people have left for the day.
We take a second to pour some water out of a bottle for Arthur to lap at before we head home.
We’re about to put him in the back seat and climb into Wyatt’s truck when a lady in an SUV pulls up beside us.
“Excuse me, but do you guys have food to eat?” Wyatt and I must have had confused looks on our faces because she explains.
“I’m looking for people who haven’t eaten dinner.
” She holds up a fast-food bag full of what I assume are chicken sandwiches.
There’s probably twenty of them in there.
I guess the flooding was worse than the damage done to the power lines since they already have some power on the main road where the grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants are.
Wyatt answers her, “Yes, ma’am. We do have plans for dinner this evening, but we just came from that direction,” he points down the road we just walked, “and they had some people outside still, so you might ask them.”
“Thank y’all. Have a good one.”
“You too,” we say as she rolls up her window and rolls away.
I get into Wyatt’s passenger seat and point all the air vents directly at my face. Every year I forget how truly hot it gets in the summer, and every year I’m violently reminded.
“Is it always like that here?” Wyatt asks as he turns the key in the ignition.
“Like what?”
“Like that. A random person out looking to feed people?” He puts the truck in drive and pulls away from the curb.
It’s never struck me that it could be considered weird or different.
I’ve lived here two thirds of my life, so I’m just used to the Texan friendliness.
I think back to my earliest hurricane memories.
“When I was a kid, we had a hurricane that knocked the power out for two weeks. We went outside the morning after, like you and I did today, and there was a tree leaning on the little canopy over our front door. In just a few hours, my dad and some of the men from our street had the whole thing off the house and cut into pieces. To thank them, my dad cooked whatever meat we had in the fridge on a camping stove and fed everyone. It wasn’t going to last long without power anyway, so we just cooked everything and fed people. ”
“Just like that?”
I nod. “Just like that.”
“Wow.”
“Another year, a different hurricane knocked tons of trees into the streets of our neighborhood. My dad filled his chainsaw up with gas, took the four-wheeler around and helped clear the roads. After hurricanes it’s like anyone and everyone who owns a chainsaw is out helping.
” I laugh at the memories of being a kid and being able to just do whatever because our parents didn’t want to entertain us at home.
“I think that was the same storm that I was old enough to just hang out with friends after. No power, no school, and nothing to do at home. I would call my friends who lived in the neighborhood on the landline, can you believe it? And we would meet up near the bike path and just ride around for hours until it would get close to dark.”
“What did you do?”
“I don’t know. All sorts of stuff. Watch turtles swim in the creek, poke at a dead snake with a stick. Maybe we would walk someone’s dog. Just killin’ time.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad childhood.”
“It’s not like that growing up in Wisconsin?” There’s basically no traffic, so it’s not long before we are close to Wyatt’s house so we can shower, change, and grab some stuff to stay over at Colin’s.
“It is to an extent. The town is so small you can’t get away with anything, like you saw.
Imagine everyone knowing you got a speeding ticket before you even show up to the function, but like a thousand times worse.
They knew when you snuck out, when you were partying, who you were going out with.
There was no privacy. A high school class of two-hundred kids means there’s nowhere to run. ”
“But it also means the town takes care of you.”
He nods. “It does, but look at Houston. Two-million people in the city limits and everyone is out and about helping. It’s like the small-town kindness with the big-city benefits.”
I never thought I would hear Mr. Wisco himself talking about Houston like that.
It kind of warms my heart. Makes me feel like maybe he’s not going to hate my guts in ten years for giving up on Wisconsin to be with me.
Maybe he can appreciate this city for what it is.
I don’t think my Texas lessons had as much of an impact on him as this experience.
There’s part of being a Texan that you can’t teach.
The media makes us out to be a bunch of dumb hicks who ride horses to school, but when push comes to shove, my big blue dot in a sea of small-town red is accepting, welcoming, and caring.
People wonder why young women like me with big careers and big dreams haven’t fled Texas in the wake of the horrible politicking going on here, but this is why.
When I was a kid, we had Go Texan Day, and I always felt so proud to live here.
As I got older and started paying attention to politics, I lost that pride, but that’s what they want.
When you realize how diverse and beautiful this city is, you appreciate the Texan state of mind even more.
It was built on the ‘come and take it’ attitude, and that’s the same mantra I use for staying and fighting.
I put my hand on Wyatt’s arm. “That’s a really nice way to say it.”
We pull into his garage, and I step out of the passenger seat to the back to get Arthur. I carry the dog while Wyatt carries the cooler back inside. “Holy fuck. It’s disgusting in here,” Wyatt cries as we walk in.
The heat has taken its toll on the temperature inside the house. It’s probably a muggy eighty degrees. “Thank God we’re not sleeping here.”
“True, but I don’t think Colin would appreciate a dirty dog running around his house.”
“We can’t leave him here.” If someone sees the pictures I posted on the local social media pages, they could be wanting to come get him any minute.
“Let’s put him in the tub and get him clean. Then I won’t feel bad about bringing him.”
We bring him to the guest bath, setting up our phones as flashlights. I hold my wrist under the tap, waiting for the right temperature.
It’s a good thing we’re both disgusting because we would have ended up that way anyway trying to get Arthur bathed.
He wasn’t super happy about being wet, and he let us know it by shaking his dirty water all over us while we tried to wipe him down.
“Hold him still, Wyatt,” I shriek as Arthur shakes again, coating me in sudsy water.
“He’s so small I don’t want to hold him too still and hurt him.”
I pick up the extended shower head and start to rinse him. “It’s okay, little guy. We’re almost done.”
I spray him all over, the water that was running gray starting to finally run clear. When all the soap is gone, it’s like an entirely different dog is looking back at me. “Oh my God. He’s white.”
Wyatt bursts out laughing. “Arthur the color-changing dog.”
“He was cute when he was brown and dirty, but now that he’s clean he’s adorable.
” I wrap Arthur up in a towel and hold him to me.
With one hand I wipe him dry on one side, then turn him around in my arms and towel dry the other side.
“I’ll hold Arthur; you go get cleaned up.
We’re already late for dinner at Colin’s. ”
Wyatt gets up and starts to head toward his bathroom but stops abruptly just short of the door. “Wait. How do I take a shower in the dark?”
I can’t help it, I crack up laughing. I laugh and laugh with little Arthur in my arms. I don’t know why the image of Wyatt fumbling around in the dark trying to turn on the shower is so funny to me, but it just is.
“The same way Arthur just did. Take the flashlight from the living room with you,” I answer between bursts of laugher.
“Then bring it out to me so I can use it when you’re done. ”
While Wyatt’s showering, I head to the kitchen to find Arthur something to eat. I was hoping that Wyatt would randomly have dog food from dog sitting or for feeding the raccoons, but I can’t find anything to safely feed him except white rice and a can of mixed veggies.
I set a pot on the gas stove and fill it with water to boil. I set Arthur on the ground to explore and lean against the counter.
My phone doesn’t have much battery left, but if I can make this call before it dies, that’s all that matters.
“Yellow…”
When we get to Colin’s, the house is already packed. People are lounging around the couches and on the floor. There’s a game of cards going, and Mack and Jaden are playing chess on Colin’s ridiculously fancy stone chessboard.
“I saved you guys the last room, since you’re a couple. I gave all the single guys the couch or a blow-up mattress,” Colin says as he leads us up the stairs to dump our overnight bags. I wouldn’t say he was thrilled to see Arthur in my arms, but he let us in anyway.
“Thanks, man,” Wyatt says as he dumps our backpacks on the bed. “This is way better than my place.”
“It’s not as cool as I normally keep it, but it’s not as hot as it could be, so we’ll take what we can get.”
My phone pings in my pocket, and I check it while Wyatt is distracted by Colin.
God bless that woman. She got me the information I need so quick…
like she was expecting it. Her note confirms my suspicions: “Good luck.” I’ll tell him tomorrow.
Tonight, we should just hang out with friends and revel in how lucky we are to be sleeping in a house with lights, air conditioning, and no flood waters.
We head back down the stairs as Colin says, “There’s grilled chicken, broccoli, and baked beans downstairs. The generator runs the AC, the fridge, and a couple outlets to charge phones. But not many lights, so we’ve been using candles and flashlights.”