The Hurricane

by Nicole Hart

  3:50 a.m.

  I can’t stop thinking about you. But I know you deserve more. You deserve better than me. I constantly fight the urge to show up at your house. I’m hoping a little time away will make this easier. I’m heading out to the Gulf of Mexico for work, I’ll be gone 2–3 wks. I won’t have signal, but I’m sending you Cain’s number in case you need anything. Please call him if you do. I worry about you.

  3:54 a.m.

  I miss you. Both of you.

  My vision was blurry from my tears that threatened to fall as I read the second message over and over. The third message was Cain’s contact information.

  Without a second thought, I tried to call him back. He didn’t say exactly when he was leaving. But his phone went straight to voicemail. I tried again, hoping to hear his voice. But all I got was the automated voicemail.

  “I miss you,” I whispered, the tears winning and falling down my cheeks, as I stared at his picture on my phone. It was a shot of Ryker and Brooklyn on his motorcycle. I wanted to change it from my screensaver a hundred times since he walked out my door, but I couldn’t. I took a deep breath and started my car, knowing I had to keep moving. I had to get to work and put on a smile for everyone around me.

  But as I drove, the damn tears wouldn’t stop. They kept flowing, like a waterfall. I was getting frustrated the closer I got to work, getting pissed at myself for not being able to pull it together.

  I pulled into the parking lot of my office, further from the doctor’s suite I work at than usual and put my head on the steering wheel. I had ten minutes before I had to be inside and I needed every second.

  “Stop crying, damn it,” I whispered to myself before I heard a tap on my window. I turned my head to the left and saw Christy standing there with a worried expression, her long blonde hair in a messy bun on top of her head. I hit the window button as I looked up at her.

  “Are you out here talking to yourself?” she laughed, but then leaned down closer to me.

  “What’s wrong, why are you crying?” she asked, but walked over to the passenger’s side and opened the door, climbing inside before I had a chance to answer.

  “What happened?” she said as she turned toward me.

  I cleared my throat, trying my best to keep the tears from falling again. My face was already hot and stiff. I probably looked like death.

  “Ryker texted me this morning, he said he missed me. I just don’t know what to do,” I said, my voice cracking and lip trembling, doing everything I could to hold the tears back.

  “Did you call him back?”

  “I tried, but he’s going out into the Gulf for work. I guess he’s already gone,” I said, trying to catch the tears as they fell.

  “Look, you didn’t really give me details about why you guys quit seeing each other, and although I don’t like that one bit, because you know my ass is nosy,” she said with a giggle, “I respect your privacy, so I won’t pry. But . . . I think you should give it another chance, at least try to talk things out. I mean, it’s obvious you’re miserable without him.”

  “It’s complicated,” I whispered.

  “Everything is, darling, nothing worth having comes easy,” she said, and started to dig through her purse, pulling a cosmetic bag out.

  “Now, you need to dry your eyes, and put some damn make up on, girl,” she laughed, putting the bag in my lap.

  She was right, nothing is easy. But this was way more complicated than she understood. And it wasn’t just about me. It was about Brooklyn.

  A Broken Record

  Work.

  Miss her.

  Eat.

  Miss her.

  Sleep.

  Miss her.

  Repeat.

  In The Path

  2 weeks later

  It was finally Saturday and there wasn’t an alarm clock to wake me, but of course I was awake at the ass crack of dawn. Brooklyn wasn’t even up yet, but I had been lying here for an hour staring at the ceiling, thinking about him. What else was new? I thought about him constantly. Missed him every second. Brooklyn missed him, too. She didn’t ask if he was coming back, but she always mentioned him. She talked to Mustang, the crab, about him, which broke my heart. She rolled the model car around her bedroom floor in silence, and I knew she was thinking about the hours that she spent with Ryker putting it together. She even ran to the window, the first week, every time she heard a loud truck. She never said what she was looking for, she didn’t have to. Because I did the same thing, but only when she wasn’t watching.

  I finally crawled out of bed and walked into the living room, flipping the TV on, but keeping the sound down so I didn’t wake my baby girl. She loved school, but she loved her sleep, so I didn’t want to interrupt. I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee pot, but my eyes were drawn to the television screen. My heart started to pound when I saw it. I scurried into the living room, turning the sound up just a few notches to listen to the news reporter.

  “Hurricane Karen has made a drastic turn to the west. What was believed to be a Category 1, heading into the Atlantic, has exploded overnight and taken a sharp turn directly into the Gulf of Mexico, projected to make land fall into Louisiana as a Category 4 Hurricane. I can tell you that this was not expected. We always know that hurricanes can be unpredictable but this looks like it could be one for the record books. We’ll keep you updated as information from The National Weather Center comes in, back to you, Marissa.”

  My hands started to shake as I watched the computer model that remained in the corner of the screen. You could almost hear it roaring as it stared at me. I didn’t even know exactly where Ryker was in the Gulf, but the hurricane was huge and it was heading for him, if he was still out there. My eyes filled with tears as I stared at the screen. Would they get him out in time? Did they even know it was heading for them? Ryker said he wouldn’t have signal, but did the ship? Surely they had contact with the rest of the world, right? My mind was racing a mile a minute. I started to stand. I needed information. I needed to find out if he was ok. But as soon as my feet hit the ground, my legs gave out, leaving me in a heap on the floor. I felt dizzy and nauseous. My mouth started to water, and I knew what was coming. I scrambled to my feet, my legs wobbly, and made it to my bathroom just in time before I started to heave. I hadn’t been eating lately, so there wasn’t much to lose. The tears were falling as I continued to dry heave over my toilet.

  “Momma, are you ok?” I heard a sleepy voice behind me.

  Shit.

  “I’m fine, honey, I’m just a little sick to my tummy,” I said as I wiped my mouth, looking back at her.

  “You don’t feel warm,” she said, as she put her tiny hand on my forehead, wearing a worried expression.

  “Momma’s fine, honey, I’m ok,” I assured her, trying not to let the tears start falling again.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I promise,” I said as I stood to my feet, walking to the sink and splashing water on my face.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, as I wiped my face with a hand towel.

  “Can I have cereal and watch cartoons in the living room? I promise not to spill it!” she begged, with her fingers linked together.

  “Ok,” I said quietly, patting her head as we walked out of the bathroom.

  As soon as we walked into the living room, my eyes were drawn to the TV again; the hurricane was still on the news coverage. Brooklyn grabbed the remote and turned it to her favorite cartoon station. I almost took it out of her hand, needing to know what was happening, needing updated information. But instead, I made her a bowl of cereal and put it on the coffee table as she sat on her knees, waiting.

  “Thanks, momma,” she said as her cartoon trance began. She stared at Mickey Mouse as she grabbed her spoon.

  “I have a call to make, ok, Brookie, give me a few minutes ok?” I asked as I walked towards my bedroom door.

  “Yes ma’am,” she said without looking in my direction.

  I shut my
door behind me and grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand. I took a deep breath as I scrolled through my contacts, and then tried to control the trembling in my body when I heard the ringing.

  “This is Cain,” his voice rumbled in my ear. He was so intimidating, even on the phone. His voice exuded dominance and power.

  “Um . . . hi, um, Cain,” I stumbled over my words. Shit.

  “Can I help you?” he growled, sounding irritated.

  “Hi, this is Natalie, Ryker gave me your number,” I said, unable to hide my nervousness.

  “I’m aware,” he responded sharply.

  “I’m worried about him,” I said, and then paused, but he didn’t speak.

  “I know he’s out in the Gulf, and that hurricane shifted, and I just want to make sure he’s ok, that he’s getting out of there,” I rambled.

  “Now you’re worried?” he bit out.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “You weren’t worried about him these last few weeks, when you turned your fucking back on him, were you?” he snapped at me. I didn’t know how to respond. Normally, I stood up for myself, for my decisions, but he made me too nervous.

  “I don’t . . . I’m just . . . I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  “Listen, I don’t know if he’s ok. I can’t get a hold of fucking anyone with his company. He’s my fucking brother, and I’m doing everything in my power to make sure he’s safe,” he seethed in my ear, his voice sounding almost eerily calm, not matching the words he was spitting at me.

  “Will you please let me know if you hear anything?” I asked, meekly.

  “This is your fucking fault!” he yelled, the calm tone to his voice vanishing. “You were the reason he took this job, because you fucking hurt him, and he needed to get away. He thinks he’s not good enough for you! But I can assure you, you don’t fucking deserve him.”

  “You don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “I understand perfectly! You think he wanted to fight? He did it to protect you!”

  “What?” I whispered, my voice cracking, the word almost silent.

  “He better be ok, or it’s on you!” he roared in my ear, and then disconnected the call.

  He did it to protect me? I didn’t understand. I should have known there was a reason he was going to fight. He hated that life. I should have known something was going on, that something was wrong that night.

  Tears streaming down my face, I let the phone slip through my fingers and fall to the floor. He was right. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have told him to leave. I should have held on.

  Why didn’t I fight for him? Fight for us?

  Fucking Ironic

  “Hamilton!” I heard a voice yell behind me, trying to get my attention, as I continued to weld this pipe together before the rain started back up again. The last contractors did a shitty job and everything needed to be redone. I lifted my hood when I finished the line, inspecting my work. Smooth. Welding calmed me. You had to be calm and it had to be precise. It wasn’t something you could rush or you would fuck it up. You had to focus on what you were doing, and right now, that was the best part about being out here.

  “Hamilton!” the voice called out once more, I looked over my shoulder to see the Captain standing on the upper deck, a few feet above me. I nodded my head in recognition to him, not in the mood to even speak.

  “Come up to the galley, we have a meeting in 5!” he yelled, holding his hand up. I nodded, dropping my torch, and then turned the oxy acetylene bottles off before putting my hood beside them. I pulled my gloves off as I climbed the stairs, two at a time, heading into the galley. We always had safety meetings each morning, so a meeting during the middle of the day was unusual. The job was almost finished, and I was ready to get off this rig, so I wasn’t real happy about taking a break right now. It was a good way to escape reality for a few weeks, but I was ready to get on dry land.

  As I walked into the galley, I took a seat at the rectangular table, without saying a word. The rest of the crew started filing in and sitting down at the same time. There were whispers and a few laughs, mixed with dirty jokes and name calling. Typical shit with a ship full of dudes. It wasn’t a large crew, because the rig was out of commission, so it was just the guys responsible for fixing the previous fuckers screw ups.

  “Alright guys, if you could quiet down for a minute,” the Captain said as he stood at the head of the table.

  “We have a little problem,” he said, and the room became silent in an instant, everyone giving him the attention he was asking for.

  “What’s up?” Crawford asked. He was a young kid and always full of questions, I didn’t figure this would be an exception.

  “We have some nasty weather headed our way,” he said as he opened a scroll that resembled blue prints, but upon further inspection it was obvious what it was. Everyone started looking around, staring at each other briefly.

  “Is it just the outer bands that’s gonna hit us?” Marcus asked. He was the other welder that worked for the same company I did. He was from Corpus, so he was familiar with the effects hurricanes had.

  “I wish,” the Captain said as he stared at the prints, then back up at us. “Karen has shifted her path and she’s increased in size and speed,” he said, letting out a loud sigh.

  “How close?” Crawford asked.

  “We’re right in the path,” he said with a worried expression.

  “What the fuck? When are we leaving?” Maurice asked, standing to his feet, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

  “It could take a couple of days. These waters are full of offshore rigs that are in production with hundreds of guys on there. There’s thousands of people that have to evacuate. We’re on the list, but it might take a little longer. They are getting the running rigs cleared out first, but they are coming for us.”

  “I need to call home,” Crawford said as he stood, and walked over to the rotary in the corner.

  “The satellites aren’t working, we don’t have phone service now.”

  “This is fucking crazy,” Crawford mumbled.

  The room started to fill with chatter and whispers, the majority of them cursing.

  “Dude, I gotta get the fuck out of here, I’ve got a wife, and a baby due soon,” Maurice said as he started to pace nervously.

  “Listen, guys, they’re going to get us out, we just need to stay calm. We’ll spend the rest of the day getting everything anchored down and put away. Then we’ll get some rest and wait on the chopper or a boat, whichever one can get to us.”

  “Already, it’s that close?” another guy asked, the tag on his coveralls read Baker.

  “It’s moving fast,” the Captain said. “Now let’s get to work, we have a lot to do.”

  Twelve hours later, I collapsed on my bunk, exhausted, mentally and physically. Everything was ready for evacuation. Now we just had to wait. I knew the captain had assured us that we would get out of here. But he was right; they would work on getting the working rigs emptied first. There were hundreds of people on those rigs. There were only twenty of us on this ship; it made sense to grab us last. Regardless of how fucked up it was, it was the smartest thing to do. It would save the most lives if this storm was as vicious as everyone was saying.

  That was the part that really fucked with my head. The irony of this.

  The Hurricane.

  The word that I had hated most of my life. The one word that seemed to destroy everything in my life. Hurricane.

  It destroyed friendships as I was growing up, because my temper always got away from me. It sent me to jail more than once. It destroyed my relationship with Natalie, because I couldn’t keep my shit under control and handle it the right way.

  And now this, a fucking hurricane could end it all.

  Fucking ironic.

  A roaring sound and my bed shifting startled me. I sat up quickly, realizing I must have fallen asleep. The roaring got a little quieter, but I noticed the bottle of water on my table sha
king back and forth. I was still in my coveralls and boots, so I opened the door and headed into the empty hallway. I could hear faint voices, so I followed the chatter into captain’s quarters. The door was open and a few of the guys were standing around.

  “No word?” I asked, looking at the clock on the wall, realizing I had slept for 6 hours.

  “Nothing, man, everything’s down, there’s no communication, it’s all static.” Maurice said quietly as he looked around, taking his baseball cap off, rubbing his head, and then putting it back on. My eyes shifted to the Captain who was staring at the wall.

  “I’ve spent most of my life out on the water,” he said quietly, still staring, with his arms folded across his chest.

  “I missed my kids’ birthdays, more holidays than I can count, and the birth of my grandbaby. My wife did everything on her own because of this damn ocean. I took her for granted all these years,” he said quietly, and his tone made me a little nervous. Did he know something we didn’t? Why was he getting sentimental if he was sure we were getting out of here?

  The shifting of the rig caused us to sway, Captain stumbling into the wall in front of him. I caught him as he was about to hit the ground.

  “You ok?” I asked, trying to remain steady on my feet with the swaying of the ship. He simply looked at me and nodded.

  “It’s fucking crazy out there,” Baker said as he walked through the doorway. “You can’t see anything,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Listen, everyone go get your belongings, tell the rest of the crew,” the Captain ordered. “I want everyone on the top deck, in the doghouse; it’s closest to the landing pad. We’re all going to wait this out together.”

  “Do you think they’re really coming for us?” Crawford said as we made our way down the long hallway.