The One in Which I Get Cheated Out of a Storm

I was supposed to knit him a scarf for winter. This winter. Now the box filled with yarn is dust-covered and abandoned underneath my desk. I hit my toes against it every time I adjust myself. It’s one of those things I would burn in a great bonfire if I were the burn and purge type. I’m not, really. That and the moment for burning is past. So. There’s that.

It’s one of those nights. I pace my room or sit staring at the wall for longer than I care to document. Every so often I  focus on my eyes in the mirror until the pupils dilate and I feel real again. I pinch myself or call to my parents or pet my dogs just to check that I haven’t disappeared. I’m pretty sure that I haven’t.

They said a storm was coming. Hurricane Bill. Or Bob. Or some other generic B name. Who names these hurricanes anyway? The grocery stores were packed with concerned citizens preparing for the worst. Everyone battened down their hatches. BBQs were canceled and windows boarded up. Roads were closed. Would-be-beach-goers banned. Everyone tuned to the weather channel and waited. Waited for the worst. Another Hurricane Juan. Trees collapsing and basements flooding and damage, lord the damage.  It rained for awhile. Hard. It rained and then the wind picked up and then right when I thought it was going to really descend, well, it was right about then that Hurricane Bill passed us by.

Dammit, Bill.

It’s like that last fight you’re meant to have before you break up. The one where you air every little pissed off thought and every single age-old hurt that has been eating at you since the day you got together. The fight to end all fights. The fight where you scream and you cry and you hate hate hate each other. The one you have to take breaks from just to recover enough energy to keep on yelling. The one where you lie and say you always had a thing for his best friend or he says he wished he never kissed you on that goddamn stairwell. The one that leaves you empty. Hollow. Ravaged. Nobody really wants to experience the damage. Nobody really wants the relationship to crumble so violently and completely underneath them. But, when that fight passes you by. When you part ways mutually and without consequence. When you give each other the whole “let’s be friends” spiel and really believe it…

Well. Well, then you end up like me. Staring out your window at the gray above and wondering when the sky will fall. Feeling cheated when the rain spits and then stops and you can’t even muster up a real tear. It’s over and I don’t even really know when it ended. No hurricane and no goddamn closure. I’m left here waiting for I don’t know what with no company—just dusty memories and a lousy weather report.

Kaki King – Pull Me Out Alive


6 Comments Add yours

  1. Eric says:

    This is better than I gave it credit for the first time around, and of course you’ve got that last line. The antithesis of “Rage, blow, you cataracts and hurricanoes”.

    I liked the video, too.

  2. Trapped says:

    May I take a moment to tell you that I find your writing captivating and quite insightful. Thanks

  3. seanmcdonnellbrown says:

    watch out for lemon flavoured jellyfish!

  4. Sebastian says:

    Hurricanes/tropical winds are all ‘pre-named’…!

    And then they cycle them out for other names if there’s a particularly damaging one. I think the letter depends on if it’s the first, second, third hurricane of the year.

    1. Lindsay says:

      That was highly educational, thank you Seb.

      1. Sebastian says:

        No worries. I wondered the same thing a few years ago…!

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