She cannot get an internet connection. No more flowers at the store. Or water. Or wine, which is disaster.
Three days until the hurricane makes landfall. If it makes landfall. Mandatory evacuation on a national holiday.
Who are we kidding? Labor Day isn’t really a holiday in South Carolina. Not like Confederate Memorial Day. Or even Carolina Day. Who celebrates laborers anymore?
Talking heads burrow into her brain. Drive her mad.
Watch me! No, watch me! No, memememememe! I’m the most sensational. Let me show you the meaning of incendiary.
She takes a pajama day. Reads two books. Makes homemade peach pie with southern fruit and a yankee recipe.
She shuts out the world.
Her alternate reality is becoming a problem. She doesn’t know what anyone is talking about anymore. Is it football season? What are podcasts? The Weather Channel was at the Battery? What is K-POP?
Meanwhile, she decks herself out to watch two Talking Heads movies from the 80s. Twenty other Charleston people. AN ACTUAL THEATER.
THAT’S how weird she is.
She fell in love with a man who made her watch True Stories to understand the imprint of Texas on his soul. A big German who dressed like a cowpoke. Drove a Caddy with steer skin seats and longhorns on the hood. Drank gallons of cheap wine straight from a fish-shaped bottle.
She never met the German before he died.
Her husband has always been attracted to weirdos. And that’s all right with her. She stopped making sense ages ago, doesn’t want to make sense if she can’t be with him.
So they huddle together. Block out the world. Watch rain fall. And wait for new flowers to grow.
To see what Andra has been writing in series fiction, visit The Aftermath of Death, She Was Venus in Fur, Grief Out of Balance, For the Love of a Gun, Death by Toilet, Biscuits, Gardenias and a Funeral and Everything Dies. She’s also on Medium with a new story HERE.
4 Comments
I’m at Vanessa’s in Delray Beach. We are 6 miles from the Atlantic and hoping it stays off land and goes further north. But it has stalled out and is barely moving. I was to fly home tomorrow but changed my flight to Thursday a few days ago. But we have hurricane shutters up on the house and everything inside and secured. Stay safe
If it goes further north it hits me. Ha. But I know it’s every human for themselves. Stay safe.
I’m keeping a wary eye on the whole deal. As Jess says: “Mother-of-Pearl.” She’s in the potential path too. Scary ingik. We have the Labor Day RP Gig to play today. I’ll get everyone to toast and send a raucous drunken prayer in your direction.
If it follows the projected track, we’ll be fine. So will Jess. And for her sake, I hope it does. The last thing she needs on the heels of this move is a big storm to assess.
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