Chapter 28 Dawsen
Dawsen
Holy Shit. Where did this rain come from?
I swear it came out of nowhere. As soon as I got into the hardware store I pulled out my phone and clicked open the weather app.
Sure enough—flash flood warnings and thunderstorm alerts pinging.
It’s snowing no sign of stopping anytime soon, and I’m trying not to lose my cool.
I don’t mind driving in a storm, but not with Birdie riding shotgun.
And honestly, this is an insane amount of rain. I haven’t seen it this bad in years.
“Hey son, what can I do ya for?” The man behind the counter asks. He’s wearing camel colored work pants, a grey hoodie and a denim apron that’s tied right under his beer belly.
“Yeah, actually, I am actually hoping to pick up some scaffolding equipment. We were told you guys rent it out? We actually just drove up from Saddlebrooke.”
The man chuckles and starts waving me towards one of the aisles, “Oh yes, I believe I spoke to a lady about this just the other day! I’ve got it back this way. Follow me son.” I nod and follow him towards the back of the shop where he signals at the metal bars and boards in a pile.
“I can help load it up for ya, but I’d advise that you don’t head back into Saddlebrooke tonight.
These rain storms are ruthless and don’t have any mind for nobody else.
Munsen usually closes down the highways when we get rains like these.
In fact, I’d suggest you head up the road and see if you can’t get a room at the motor lodge before they all get taken.
Not a lot of tourists here, so not a lot of places to stay. ”
“How far is the lodge from here?” I ask, hoping to hide he concern in my voice.
“Just a couple miles. I think I’ve got a tarp I can send you off with to cover the equipment—assuming you’ve got a truck?”
We’re starting to gather the equipment as we head towards the front of the shop.
“Yeah, it’s parked right out front here. Black Ford.” I say, leading the way.
* * *
Carl and I finished loading up and tying down the equipment, and I ran back inside to pay, standing at the counter absolutely drenched.
“Thanks for all you’re help, appreciate you sacrificing yourself to the rain.
” I joke, as he’s punching in the keys on his register.
This place is like a time machine. The register looks like it’s from the 60s and the antenna radio on the back counter has a muffled voice announcing the road closures in the town limits.
I hand him my credit card and he doesn’t look up when he says, “not a problem at all. Now run along and make sure you and the lady get some place dry and safe to sleep tonight.”
“Will do. Thanks again.” I tip my ball cap to him and jog to the truck.
“Damn.” I say, closing the door behind me as I slide into the truck in my soaking wet clothes.
“It’s such a nice day isn’t it? I love a nice drizzle.” Birdie teases.
“It’s positively delightful.” I deadpan.
She giggles.
“So, bad news, good news.” I add, resting my arm across the back of the bench seat. Birdie stares at me blankly, and after too long a pause, she begins waving her hand in a slow circle, as if to tell me to keep talking.
“Bad news, they’re closing down the highway because of the flash floods. Good news, there’s a motor lodge about two miles up the road.” I sigh, rubbing my hand across the stubble on my face, thinking that I’m definitely overdue for a shave.
“Shit, I’m so sorry Dawsen. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my errand running, and now I’ve gone and trapped us here. I feel so terrible.”
“Not a chance I’m letting you take the blame for weather, Birdie. And there’s no way I would have let you do this without me anyways, so please release yourself from any of the blame you’re putting on yourself. If anything, I’m sorry you’re trapped here with me and driving you in this storm.”
The cab of my truck is mostly quiet with the faint hum of Birdie’s playlist, and the sound of rain clattering against the steel of my truck.
It’s peaceful, and the reality of Birdie Banks and I having to share a hotel room tonight is setting in, and I am all too ashamed about how grateful I am for this storm.
Birdie just smiles at me, our eyes lock, pulling us together into some sort of mutual understanding and all she says is, “Okay.”
I pull my seat belt across my wet clothes, lock in, and head for the motor lodge without another word. I reach forward and turn the volume knob up a few notches. “Dark Blue” by Jack’s Mannequin spills out of the speakers and we both turn to look at each other.
“I love this song” She says, smiling.
“Me too.”