Summer Storms ...Finale
To be caught in the rain?
You were going on your way
Now you’ve got to remain.
—Billie Holiday
I was leaving Quinn—in the middle of moving my stuff out, when we caught in a thunderstorm and were forced to hunker down for the night.
Besides the awkwardness of having to share the same space, we were soaked to the skin leaving me sodden and shivering but with nothing to wear.
“You could wear my robe.”
She looks at the horror on my face. “—It’ll just be until we can dry your clothes.”
“And how are we going to that, with the power off?”
She goes very quiet, no doubt remembering the last storm—the old country power lines down for three days, and the food in the fridge and freezer ruined.
“It’ll be an adventure,” she says in her excited, little girl voice, that always melts me and lets her get her own way—except tonight.
No way I’m wearing a woman’s clothes.
“How about I wrap myself in a blanket?”
“Oh, great—we can have a toga party and toast marshmallows by the fire.”
I have to go by the tone of her voice to see if she’s being sarcastic—with Quinn, you can never tell—and it’s now quite dark in the hall.
“Go—go get your bath and grab a blanket from the linen closet in the hall.”
“Wait a minute—what about you—you’re shivering.”
“I’ll be all right,” she says bravely.
“No damn way,” I say, and stoop down and grab her and throw her over my shoulder.
She’s kicking and spitting like a cat. “Let me go right now, Gray—put me down!”
But by then, it’s too late—we’re upstairs, outside the bathroom and I set her down in the hallway. She’s furious and runs into the bathroom and slams the door, I hear water running in the bath.
“Quinn—I’m sorry,” I call through the door, “it’s just that I knew you wouldn’t let me help—I made an executive decision.”
She mutters something, drowned out by the sound of the running water. My back’s to the door.
I go limp like a ragdoll and slide down till I’m sitting on the floor, legs splayed out in front of me.
I’m exhausted and within minutes, fast asleep.
Some time later, Quinn jerks open the door and I fall backwards onto the tiled floor, hitting my head. I start to bleed.
“Oh my God, Gray—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were leaning on the door.”
She’s panicking, running warm water over a washcloth and looking around furtively for the first aid kit.
“Just give me the cloth, Quinn—then, you can look for bandages.”
She finally finds the kit in the linen closet, of all places, and kneels down and begins dressing my wound.
“It’s pretty deep—you probably need stitches,” she wails.
“I’ll be fine—just bandage it up.”
“I ran you a warm bath,” she says, softly caressing my wound with the antiseptic swab. “Go soak for a while and I’ll make us something warm to eat—at least, the gas stove will work.”
I come back down some time later, wearing the white bathrobe she left on the floor—I know, I caved—but it was warmer than the blanket, and didn’t have to be constantly held up.
Quinn’s lit some candles and set out trays by the fire. It looks like a picnic in our own front room—make that, Quinn’s front room.
We sit and eat and talk. I forgot how easily we could both talk. And as we’re eating, she laughs and for a moment, just a fraction of a second, the firelight gilds her face and hair and she’s eighteen again, and I feel the same way now as I did then.
I’m still in love with this girl.
She stops eating and looks at me, and knows. She feels it too.
There’s a knock on the door that startles us both.
“Go answer it, Gray—send whoever it is away.”
I get up, stumble through the dark to the foyer and open the front door.
Jim Kerr flashes this huge search beam on me—and my cute white robe.
“Hey, sorry to disturb you, Gray—just checking up on you folks.”
His eyes are huge and I can only imagine what he’s thinking.
“We’re fine, Jim—thanks for asking.” He’s staring at the robe.
“We got caught in the rain and got soaked. I just got out of the bath and grabbed whatever I could find.”
I knew it sounded lame, but Jim—well, he kind of played along. “Good. Then, I won’t keep you from your evening—just wanted to make sure you all were safe.”
I wondered what the Morlocks would think about that tomorrow. Still, it was pretty neighbourly of Jim to come out in the rain just to be sure we were okay.
I went back and told Quinn—we laughed so hard, we felt sick. Then we talked about all the crazy things we’d come through—our joys and pain, and something broke.
We fell in love again.
It’s funny—just as I was going, leaving Quinn and feeling all at sea—the clouds broke, and something in me broke—what a break for me.
I told Quinn how I felt and she agreed—she couldn’t envision a parting from me.
As far as I’m concerned, the rain can pitter-patter, and it doesn’t really matter if the skies are gray.
As long as we’re together, who cares about the weather? —It’s a lovely day.