Hurricane Days

by Renée J. Lukas

  The gang proved more cowardly than we expected. At the first hint of trouble, the boys disbanded and were quickly swallowed up by darkness. I dropped to my knees beside Andrew, whose face was bloody beyond recognition.

  “Oh my God. He’s hurt.” Carol came up behind me.

  “Go get help!” I commanded.

  She took off, while I gripped Andrew’s hand. “It’ll be okay,” I repeated. I wasn’t sure of that, but I hoped he’d be able to hear me.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  After the ambulance pulled away, Carol and I ran back to the center of the party. We found Gina Chi and told her what had happened.

  “We can follow him in my car,” Gina said. She’d been Carol’s ride anyway, but I would have to find Adrienne and let her know.

  “Give me a minute,” I said, trying to find my way through the crowd. Most of the lounge chairs were now empty. I looked up toward the parking lot and was surprised to see her Camaro still parked in its space. I heard the strumming of a guitar melting into the wind. When I looked closer, I saw Adrienne sitting in the sand, plucking the strings of her acoustic guitar. I could actually make out a tune; it was as if she’d been secretly practicing. She stopped when she saw me.

  “Hey, check it out.” Adrienne smelled like beer. Her words ran together without the usual pauses of a sober person. “Can you believe someone was gonna toss this? At a garage sale…” She played a few more notes to show off.

  “Yes, I know. You told me.”

  “Where you been?” she asked.

  “One of my friends got beaten up,” I said.

  “Shit!” Adrienne rose unsteadily to her feet and dusted the sand off her backside.

  “Yeah, so, I was going to go with Carol and Gina over there…” I gestured to my two friends standing near the bonfire. “We’re going to the hospital.”

  “Oh.” Adrienne looked worried.

  “Are you okay?” I could see that she wasn’t.

  “I was hoping you could be my designated driver.” She laughed, mocking herself, her head obviously cloudy.

  “Where are your friends?” I asked.

  “They went back to Sean’s place.”

  I’d wondered if she was going to go back with him too. Maybe I feared it all night. “I guess I’m surprised you stayed,” I said.

  “I wasn’t going to leave without you,” she exclaimed. “What the hell kind of person you think I am?”

  “Sometimes you can…” Now was not the night to have a rational conversation. “I’ll drive you back.”

  I asked my friends to check on Andrew and told them I’d be by in the morning.

  “She didn’t go with her boyfriend?” Carol remarked.

  “No,” I said. “I’ve got to get her back to campus.”

  Adrienne hiccupped behind me.

  “Got it.” Carol’s glare was judgmental. I watched as she and Gina headed up to the parking lot.

  “Call me if you have any news, okay?”

  “Yeah!” Carol waved, her back to me.

  Adrienne and I got to the car, then fumbled for what seemed like forever with the heavy guitar case and managed to get it back into the trunk.

  In the car, we turned the stereo up way too loud, but the kind of loud you want when you’ve had too much to drink. I tried to turn it down a notch as I figured out how to roll down the windows of her car. Down the highway, the salty wind made its way inside; it would forever be a scent etched in my mind whenever I thought about this time and place.

  “Why did you think I’d leave you?” Adrienne asked.

  “You seemed kind of cozy with Sean.” I wished I hadn’t said it as soon as I’d said it.

  “I’m not with him anymore. You know that.” She took my hand.

  We came to a curve, and I jerked my hand away. “I need both hands on the wheel!”

  She laughed. “You drive like my grandma.”

  “Good. She’s probably a safe driver.”

  “She’s barely tall enough to see over the dashboard.”

  “Shut up.” I took comfort in what Adrienne had said. Maybe I could learn to let myself relax about what we had together. But right now, my first worry was for Andrew. I wondered how serious his injuries were. Maybe the bruises looked worse than they were…

  “You seemed all cozy with that film chick.” Adrienne lit up another cigarette.

  “Carol?” I was snapped out of my worries.

  “Whatever.” She tapped ashes out the window. Even though it was a totally disgusting habit to me, the way Adrienne tapped the ashes was kind of sexy. I didn’t know exactly why. Maybe it reminded her of the women in film noir. Or maybe Adrienne could read a phone book and still be sexy. It was probably the blindness of first love where everything she did had a singular, awe-inspiring quality to it.

  “I like it when you’re jealous.” I smiled, noticing a few stars popping out to guide my way.

  “I’m not jealous, not unless you got a thing for nerds.”

  “Don’t call her that.” There was nothing nerdy about Carol. If anything, she reminded me of an artsy New Yorker who owned a gallery that made news for its controversial exhibits of penises or severed heads. Yeah, she was absolutely that type. Sometimes she wore black-rimmed glasses, but the nerd stereotype was ridiculous.

  “Did I upset you?” Adrienne seemed to be trying to pick a fight.

  “I just don’t like labels. You like to do that, you know. You call everyone something.” I imitated her: “‘She’s a slut. He’s a jock.’ You know, there’s more to people than what you see on the outside.”

  “No kidding,” Adrienne laughed. “Look at you, Miss Prim and Proper. Who would know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That you like pussy!” Adrienne wailed drunkenly.

  I tried to remind myself that she wasn’t really herself tonight. But I was upset anyway. Why did she have to take something good and make it sound like something from one of her porn movies? Unless it didn’t mean the same to her…always the doubts creeping in. “Do you know that some of your buddy’s friends beat up my friend tonight?”

  “What buddy?”

  “Sean!”

  “He’s not my buddy.” She paused dramatically. “He’s an asshole.”

  “You got that right. His friends called Andrew a faggot!” I slammed harder on the gas.

  “Okay! I’ll talk to him. I know he can be an asshole, but I can’t control everyone he hangs out with. Who’s Andrew?”

  “Why do you hang out with Sean? Why doesn’t that bother you?” I found myself in a familiar argument.

  “I can’t solve everything, and neither can you.” She pointed her cigarette at me. “You better realize that, or you’re gonna die of high blood pressure or something.”

  “That ship’s probably sailed already.” I pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and threw it out the window.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Will you get a grip?”

  “My really good friend was beaten within an inch of his life tonight, and I’m here because…because…you’re too shit-faced to drive!” I swerved; I was driving faster than I normally did, feeling angry about everything. When I finally got to the city limits, I slowed down. It wouldn’t be good if we were stopped. If Adrienne said one word, it would be all over. I could see my parents’ faces as I told them I spent a night in jail for drinking and driving. They’d never be able to show their faces in church again.

  “So sorry to put you out! Hey…” Adrienne grabbed my shoulder, pulling me out of my daydream. “I’m sorry about your friend. I really am. It’s not my fault it happened, though, just because I used to date Sean.”

  I said nothing for a while. “You’re right,” I finally answered. I was holding her accountable for something that didn’t matter anymore.

  We turned into the dormitory parking lot. Carol called to assure me there wasn’t any point in going tonight. They had him stabilized, and he was asleep. So she and Gina left and went back to campus too. I
wouldn’t get to the hospital until the next morning.

  “Thanks for letting me know.” When I hung up the phone, I saw Adrienne fast asleep in bed.

  I came over to her bed and pulled the sheet up over her, even though she was still wearing her clothes. I looked at her, reminding myself how nice it was that she didn’t leave without me. I wondered why I expected that to happen. I was grateful it didn’t. I took a tissue and wiped the runny mascara under her eyes. Nothing stirred her awake, even as I brushed the hair away from her face. I sat for a while, just looking at her, and the bulky guitar case that now took up half the room. I listened to her steady breathing. I took off each of her shoes gingerly, so as not to wake her. But she had already started snoring, lost somewhere far away.

  In that moment I knew I loved her. And I knew that love wasn’t only like what they described in poems or what you heard in songs. It was about the messy things too, wiping mascara that’s run down her cheeks, seeing the beauty of her face even when she was hungover with pink, puffy eyes…wanting to protect her even when I knew she wouldn’t take care of herself. Love was very inconvenient and annoying, and it felt so inevitable and permanent, as if no matter what happened from this point on, I knew I’d always love her.

  Chapter Sixty

  Andrew lay in the hospital bed with a few cuts and bruises decorating his pale face. He stared disappointedly at the elevated television. “It’s Cher, you idiot!” he hollered at a Jeopardy contestant. “Stupid straight guys,” he muttered to himself.

  I knocked on the open door and entered cautiously, afraid of what I might see. I had gone over it in the hospital elevator on the way up here—if he had a missing eye or something hanging that shouldn’t be hanging, I’d pretend not to notice it.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Andrew’s face lit up. “Hey! Come in!” he said. “So tell me straight, so to speak. Did they mess up my face? The nurses won’t let me look.”

  Relieved to be able to recognize him, I said, “No, not really. Just a few scratches. You looked worse last night.” I took a seat beside him. “I’m so pissed!” I exclaimed.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Channel that energy into something positive—like a new wardrobe. Ahhh!”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re making jokes. How can you be making jokes?”

  “It’s called morphine, sweetie.” He smiled tiredly at me.

  “I think I know who did this to you.” At the sight of him, I had that familiar urge to slap Adrienne for associating with someone like Sean and his violent pals.

  “One of ’em was Randy’s friend,” Andrew said. “The guy at the club.”

  “Randy?”

  “Oh, yeah. He was gay, just not okay with it. A freakin’ coward too. Had to have one of his friends do it.”

  “Someone needs to have a discussion with those boys.”

  “Don’t.” Andrew took my hand. “It won’t do any good. You be careful.” He coughed. “Is there any water?” He looked over in the direction of his tray, still with half-eaten food on a plate and a cup of green Jell-O. I scooted over to him and placed a plastic cup with a straw up to his mouth. “You know,” he said. “I’m starting to think I should have waited until after college to come out. You should consider it.”

  My face was redder than a beet. “I don’t need to come out…I’m not…”

  He coughed again, and I raised the cup to his mouth once more. “It’s not for the weak-hearted.”

  I squeezed his hand. “C’mon, quit talking and get your rest.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I came back to an empty dorm room. Flipping on the light, I went over to my closet and began unbuttoning my shirt. I could hear thunder rumbling outside.

  Soon after, Adrienne came in. “Hey,” she said, carrying groceries. “How’s your friend?”

  “He’s doing better.”

  “Good. It’s gonna be a big storm.” She turned on the TV. A weather bulletin was flashing, but neither of us was paying attention. She absently put soda and beer in the minifridge, while I watched her.

  “How did you ever go out with someone like that?” I faced her, letting my shirt hang open. I’d come a long way from the girl who changed clothes under a towel.

  Adrienne took out another six-pack. “Not this again.”

  “I…have to know.” I took a deep breath.

  “I don’t know, okay?”

  “I guess you had a few things in common, like the way you call certain people names.”

  “Huh?”

  “That girl down the hall. You had a lot to say about her. And Sean’s friends, shouting ‘faggot’ at my friend Andrew on the beach.” I also remembered the gang calling me a dyke outside the club, but I kept that to myself.

  “I’m sorry if I made any queer jokes,” she said, not looking at me. My political correctness always seemed to annoy her.

  “It’s kind of ironic.”

  “Will you quit talking to me like that? I’m trying to apologize.” She looked at me, then glanced away sharply, as if she’d heard a gunshot on the other side of the room. The way I stood there with my shirt open, I had this new air of confidence. Adrienne was obviously uncomfortable, maybe even a little intimidated.

  “Am I making you nervous?” I asked.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” She grabbed her backpack. Her discomfort was something I’d never seen before. She seemed anxious to get out of the room.

  A bolt of lightning reminded us of the storm raging outside and getting worse. Palm trees bent to their sides, and the afternoon sky was suddenly dark as night.

  “You shouldn’t go out in this,” I said.

  “I’m fine.”

  As soon as Adrienne opened the door, Lydia strode up the hall in her loud swishy pants. “Bad storm brewing. Everyone is advised to stay in.”

  “We can go anytime we want,” Adrienne argued.

  “It’s not advised!” Lydia’s eyes narrowed, daring her to defy her. “If something happens to you, the school is not responsible, because you’ve been warned.”

  “What the hell’s a matter with you?”

  I came out to check on the situation. “Come on, Adrienne. Why not wait it out inside?”

  “I don’t want to.” She turned into a child who wasn’t getting her way. Then she looked at Lydia again. “I mean, really? What the fuck is your problem? Why are you so weird? Were you dropped on your head as a kid?”

  “Adrienne!” I exclaimed. “She’s under a lot of pressure,” I explained to Lydia apologetically.

  “No, I’m not.” Adrienne kept arguing as I yanked her back inside. I gave Lydia an apologetic nod as I closed the door.

  “You’d better stay put,” Lydia called, “or I’m gonna write you up!”

  “You do that!” Adrienne hollered from the other side of the door.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I was exasperated.

  She dropped her backpack and fell onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t like people telling me what I can and can’t do.”

  “You know she’s kind of nuts. Why do you have to make it worse?”

  “Because maybe I don’t care, okay?”

  There was a long silence. I curled up in my own bed and took out some books to read while flashes of lightning pierced the room, followed by thunder that was getting closer.

  The lights went out. In a moment, Adrienne struck a match and lit a nearby peach candle. The wick was nearly buried in wax, barely tall enough to hold the flame, but she was able to connect with it.

  “You’ll burn your fingers!” I squeaked. Then I saw the lit candle and the glow on Adrienne’s anxious face. “What’s going on with you?”

  “What about you?” She set the candle by her bedside. “You’re so mad at me all the time.” She seemed sad. “Nothing I do is right. And you’re still pissed because I used to see this guy, and you’re blaming me for everything he does. That doesn’t mean I’d do the same thing, you know. You a
lways talk about stereotypes and how wrong they are. But you stereotyped me from the start. You treat me like I’m stupid if I don’t have all the same opinions you do. You’re a total snob.” There was a lot inside of her, boiling to the surface.

  I closed my eyes, taking it all in. I understood that I had to make things right again. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I misjudged you. I guess I was never real comfortable around Sean, and I guess I was a little threatened by him.”

  Her face softened as she moved to my bed. “You don’t have to be,” she said softly and held my hand. Then she kissed it.

  “I know.” Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her and said, “I love you.”

  There was silence. I didn’t notice right away, but Adrienne’s body had tensed up at the sound of those words. After another moment or two, she went back to her side of the room.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Spring in Florida didn’t feel like spring, just a slightly less hot version of hell. I knew, though, that with summer around the corner, I didn’t have much longer to be with Adrienne. I began to wish summer would pass quickly. I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her, of being at home where I had to keep my feelings zipped up tightly. So many times I’d thought about calling my brother this semester, but I didn’t. I was always afraid that Adrienne would walk in and overhear my phone conversations.

  The end of the school year was drawing near. I survived a week of finals, and this afternoon had been the last hurdle. Carol and I walked together under the sprawling oaks of the campus. I breathed in the aroma of nearby flowers, relieved that it was finally over.

  I admitted the most embarrassing thing to her: “He gave me a B,” I said, talking about our film production teacher. “But he wrote that he wanted to give me a C. Why did he have to write that? You know? It’s just hurtful.”

  “You’re lucky. He could’ve flunked you.”

  “Thanks.” I was troubled. “You think I should have failed?”

  Carol gave me her best smart-ass face. “Yeah.”