The Hurricane

Daniel peered out the living room window at the demolished Taurus, past the Bronco, and down the shaded driveway. He thought he saw movement out there, but couldn’t be sure. He was glad the conversation was taking place somewhere private, but he was dying to know what was being said.

“You okay?” Anna asked. She walked out to join him by the window.

Daniel turned and smiled. “I’m fine. Sorry to drag you guys into my family crap.”

“Are you kidding?” Anna stepped beside him and peered out at what was left of the Taurus. “Somebody needed to come out here. That would’ve been a long walk back to your house.”

Daniel watched her lean forward, cup her hands around her face, and press the sides of her palms against the window to peer out. The back of her neck, the faint whiff of her presence, so much about this girl he had spent all of a few hours around seemed so intimately familiar. He wondered if he was going crazy, if he was insanely desperate to be with someone, if the storm had triggered some sort of apocalyptic, end-of-the-world, one-last-time, one-first-time, procreation urge. Wasn’t any of that infinitely more likely than love at first sight? Did people even believe in that bullshit anymore?

“Whatcha thinking?” Anna asked.

Daniel’s brain whizzed back to reality from wherever it had gone. He saw that Anna was looking at him, and that he had been staring at her. He was pretty sure he looked like a creeper in that moment, the sort of blank stare from hyper-concentration (or complete lack thereof) that made him vastly unpopular.

“Nothing,” he lied, looking away. “I just spaced out there for a second. Tired, I guess.”

Chen paced though the kitchen and joined them in the living room. “I’m almost ready,” she said. She set a black suitcase down by the door. “Just need to write a note and grab some food that might spoil.”

“I’ll help with the food,” Anna said. She reached over and squeezed Daniel’s hand for the barest of moments, then turned and followed Chen to the kitchen. Daniel’s hand leapt up in some delayed response. He looked at his palm and wondered what had just happened.

Had it happened? What did it mean? Just a friendly gesture, right? Commiserating with his family stuff. Understanding him, what with her parents living apart. Or had he found someone as crazy as himself living just four houses down?

Outside, Edward walked by, having circled the house. He seemed to be surveying the roof and the siding for damage. Beyond him, Daniel could see his brother marching up the driveway, his arms stiff, unswinging and powerful before him, hands balled into fists. He wore an adult scowl and moved with purpose. Daniel grabbed the black suitcase, pushed the screen door open, and hurried toward the Bronco.

“Chen’s inside?” Hunter asked, meeting Daniel by the Bronco.

“Yeah. She’s rounding up some food, I think.”

Hunter pointed to the suitcase, which Daniel loaded into the rear bed of the Bronco. “That hers?”

“Yeah.”

“So I guess we’re going with you guys?”

Daniel turned and nodded toward the Taurus. “Were you gonna stay here? She said you guys were gonna start walking tomorrow anyway.”

Hunter shook his head. He ran his hand up over his forehead and through his hair. “Why’d you bring him here?” he asked. “Why would Mom let him stay?”

“He traded his boat for a chainsaw,” Daniel said, wishing he could make his brother understand—even though he knew it was all a lot more complicated than it seemed in his head. “Did he tell you he quit drinking?”

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “He also told me that seven years ago and a hundred times since.”

“I think he’s changed,” Daniel said.

A brief flash of rage spun across Hunter’s face before he managed to look away.

“You always think he’s changed,” he said.

Daniel wanted to plead more, not for a strong belief in his father, which he didn’t feel, but to soothe his brother. He wanted to keep lying to make things better, but he knew it would make them worse.

Hunter laughed. “He really sleeping in the toolshed?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “I thought Mom was joking, but she lets the chainsaw stay in the house while he sleeps in the shed.”

“That’s pretty funny.” Hunter turned and smiled at Daniel. “Damn, dude, I’m glad you’re okay. How’s Zola?”

“She’s fine. Her thumbs don’t know what to do with the cell towers out. She misses her friends, and a tree went through her bed and ruined a ton of her shit, but she seems to actually be fine.”

“This is pretty fucked up,” Hunter said, looking around at all the trees and scattered branches. Daniel noticed not a piece of the debris had been moved. There were no piles of branches like around his neighborhood. He imagined Hunter and Chen had been rolling around in bed doing whatever couples did while he’d been working his ass off and worried about them.

“We should totally be in school right now,” Daniel said.

They turned to the sound of the screen door snapping shut. Chen and Anna came out, plastic grocery bags in either hand. Edward headed toward the Bronco from the far corner of the house.

“You got all your things?” Daniel asked his brother.

He patted his pockets. “Heh. I just checked to see if I had the keys to the car. Yeah, I’ve got my wallet and phone.”

“I packed your other clothes in the suitcase,” Chen said. Daniel took bags of food and a gallon of water from her and put them in the back of the Bronco. Anna unloaded her arms as well, then began rearranging the stuff in the back, pressing it all to the sides, leaving room in the middle.

“I guess we’ll be sitting back here,” she said, referring to the cargo compartment behind the rear seat.

Daniel nodded. He watched his father make his sullen way up the drive, hands in his pockets, chin down, feet dragging. He looked like a whipped dog, and Daniel no longer wanted to know what had been said between them. He didn’t want to feel any sorrier for his dad than he already did.

As Hunter and Chen got in the back seat and his father and Edward slid in up front, Daniel felt overwhelmed with how right the pairing felt. The presence of another couple seemed to solidify something between him and Anna—some vicarious romantic energy. We are what they are. He and Anna crawled in the back amid the bags of food and the suitcase. Daniel grabbed the top edge of the hinged rear door, its window down, and swung it shut. It banged and latched with the raw metal sound of an older car, and they were off, crunching the gravel driveway, turning their back on the empty house and ruined family car, working their way down the narrow alley of wounded and broken trees, the glare of the sun dimming as they passed through the mottled shade, then out to the unbroken shine and steady thrum of civilized pavement beyond.

23

The world went by in reverse. Daniel and Anna watched the past from the back of the Bronco, the road sliding off into the distance as they leaned against the back of the seat and peered out the rear window. A tree that they had cut and hauled out of the way just hours before popped into view and then slid away from them. The plastic grocery bags rustled in the breeze. Bits of conversation from the two men in the front drifted back, but in an indistinguishable slur. The deep silence from Hunter and Chen was much nearer.

Daniel felt his body unwind from the several days of tension. He relaxed against the seat behind him and felt the raw terror of his life—not the storm aftermath, but of his normal life—slide out his pores. He felt happy and calm in a way he couldn’t remember since childhood. Maybe it was knowing his brother was okay, that his entire family was okay. Perhaps it was the chilly breeze passing through the car, cooling the sweat on the back of his neck, making his hair dance on his scalp. Maybe it was the thrill of being one of the only vehicles in sight, or the view of all the destruction sliding over the horizon, reminding him how awesome it was to be alive. He soaked in the unusual state of bliss. He felt his shoulder bump up against Anna’s as the Bronco lurched to the side. He felt Anna press herself closer, so that the contact between them remained long after the limb Edward had dodged disappeared into the past.