Brown Eyes in the Storm

I unmuted the TV and wet to the kitchen to get me a drink, When the phone rang I hurried to grab it but saw that it was Martin again. I managed to get him off the phone, more or less quickly, in the hopes that Wendy might call me back soon. But I was still waiting for that call when the Sun began to rise.

"Hey Wendy, this is John, again. Starting to get more than a bit worried here. Give me a call." Standing at my window looking out over the apartments parking lot at my nearby college, I felt my anxiety building by the second. I tapped the Motorola phone to my chin, listening absently to the weather news playing half-forgotten behind me. The dire forecasts had been growing more so as the night had turned into dawn, and the dawn into day. The morning sky was a clear hazy blue-white.

~"And now for your Local on the Eights."~

Tossing the old cordless phone on the chair next to the front door, I grabbed the remote and switched off the TV in mid report telling me how nice the day here was going to be. Walking into my bedroom, I stripped off my sweat pants and dug my riding leathers from out of a big pile by my closet. I pulled the second skin feeling pants on, then grabbed some clean socks, my boots, and went back to the living room. I was pulling those on when the phone rang. Martin again.

"Dude, it just tore through Cuba. Have you heard from her?"

"If I had I would have called you. I told you that the last two times. Look, I'm going to get on my bike and ride down there to check on her."

"John, that's like thirteen-fourteen hours away. The hurricane will be there long before you can get there."

I grabbed my riding jacket off the hook next to the door and picked up my new cell phone, my keys and wallet. "Not for me it's not. I'll call you."

The cordless home phone went back into the chair as I walked past it. Grabbing my helmet, I stuffed the slim V3 Razr into my shirt pocket as I shrugged my jacket on. I could hardly feel the new phone there but that was why I had bought it after all. Six-hundred dollar price tag or not. As I pulled the door shut behind me and headed, rapidly, down the metal steps, I went back over Dad's reaction to hearing I had bought it a week back.

"One of them sissy looking ones? What is he some sort of fashion model now?"

As I swung my leg over the seat of the big motorcycle, and all but jammed the key into the ignition I shook my head. "Doesn't like my phone. Doesn't like my bike. Doesn't like my choices in life. I wonder what he would think of this?"

Cranking the big, heavy white Hayabusa, I pulled on my helmet. I leaned the bike, kicked the stand back up and let her balance under me as I tightened everything up, tucked in the jacket collar, pulled the gloves back till they all but pinched. The little bracelet, with its cross bangle, I tucked in by habit, not giving it a thought.

"Twelve hours? Nah, not for me. Not today."

I made it in under nine.

** ** ** ** ** **

The sunset looked beautiful from I-110 as I took the off ramp down into downtown Pensacola. I almost felt as if I was driving through molasses when I pulled away from the light and headed towards Wendy's house. I had not had the Hayabusa under a hundred for the last hour. This gentle fifty miles per hour was ridiculously slow. Hell, I sat back from the tank and popped open my visor to let some air in.

Only once during the whole trip had there been an issue. Luck was with me today, as it were. The state trooper in Tennessee had flipped on his blue lights to pursue, and I had been ten miles down the road before he could get his Crown Victoria merged into traffic. All I can guess is he gave it up as a lost cause, since I didn't see him again and no one else pursued. Hell, I didn't even stop to piss after that till I was well into in Alabama.

But then things like that happen when you're approaching a hundred and seventy miles an hour on a bike. Time flies by you like the mile markers, you're spending so much of it locked into drive mode you stop paying attention to it. Every thought becomes hyper-focused on the road ahead. The smallest bump.

Now, with my nine hour adrenaline high weakening I was shaking like a leaf. "My god did I just do that?" I had to ask myself when I stopped the bike, letting it balance under me. An Escambia county Sherriff pulled up next to me. Gave my bike a look, then exchanged a nod with me and pulled away as the light changed.

As I followed the streets through downtown I noticed only a few businesses working towards shoring up their windows. I had expected to see a lot of that going on, and the lack of it made me wonder if the Hurricane had changed course during the last nine hours. Taking the turn off of Pace onto Barrancas I crossed the bridge and slowed enough to look out towards the gulf.

There was a lot of white choppy water out there. A whole lot.

The last few miles to her house passed quickly. I swung the big bike into Wendy's drive way. Hopped off and took my helmet off as I walked, as fast as my shaking legs would let me, to her front door. I was almost surprised when she opened the door ... but not as surprised as she was. She blinked at me for several second then did a double take and was in my arms giving me a hug.

"John? What are you doing here?"

"Ah, I've been calling all last night trying to get in touch with you." I pulled back and looked down into her brown eyes. "Martin called me flipping out about you staying here with the hurricane coming in. What's going on?"

"I'm sorry he got you to drive all the way down here, John. Come on in." She held the door open for me. "I'm sorry you got worried about me," she smiled. "I turned my phone off, Jason and Martin were driving me bats! They are both worrying like a pair of old hens. Shoo, Tobias. I got the door, it's just, John."

The fat black cat looked up at me and gave an aggravated meow. Probably that I had no doubt not phoned ahead. He gave my leg one last pass to claim me as his then walked of tail held high.

"Windy, we have got to get you out of here." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, in a generally northern gesture, and then pointed towards the TV in the living room playing weather coverage. "That's nothing to try to ride out."

She was shaking her head long before I stopped talking. "My car is not running right. I do not trust it to drive me and Tobias out of here. Ivan is bad, yes but this house has been here for decades. It's taken a half-dozen good hurricanes and it's still here. Besides I've seen the news footage showing the highways north, they are a mess. I'm going to be fine here. I will lose power for a few days, I'm sure. I spend this morning stuffing the deep freeze with bags of ice and gallon jugs of water. They will be frozen before the worst gets here and will keep my food from spoiling. As they melt I can drink them." She went walking towards the living room and muted the TV as if the weather was annoying to her. "I know I've never been through a hurricane, but I've lived through blizzards for most of my life. I know how to manage till the power comes back on."

"This isn't a blizzard. This is going to get bad. Real bad"

"John, they have been talking about Ivan all day. I've been listening. They say the most dangerous part is the storm surge; this house is miles off the beach. I will be fine." She looked me over from the kitchen doorway. "Can I get you a soda or something? You look like you're about dead on your feet."

"I've been on my bike for hours." I pointed my thumb to the wall behind the TV. "Can you open your garage? I want to put my bike inside."

"Ah, yeah sure. Oh ... I don't know what I'm thinking. You just drove all the way from your college, didn't you? John!" She came over to me and helped me take my jacket off. "Have a seat. I'll fix you a sandwich or something, then you can rest and watch that mess, or change the channel if you want." She tried to get me moved to the couch.

"Windy, I want to put my bike up in shelter first." I saw her rolled eyes. "I'm not leaving till you leave, so I want it to be safe. I would say, let me get some rest, and then you and I can leave on it, but I know there is no way you would do that, right?"

"Try no way in hell, John." She gave shudder. "That bike scares me just seeing you ride on it. You couldn't pay me enough to sit on it with it not even cranked."

"That's what I thought." I took a deep breath that became a sigh for arguments lost before they began. "Well, looks like I'm going to get to see what a hurricane looks like up close. The garage?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. This way." I followed her down the hall and she opened a door, off that hallway, into the garage. Her normal organize-till-it-hurts life ethic was in full force. The wall rack of shelves held a dozen rubber maids, all with their respective labels. Then there were her yard tools, all on the wall on its own individual hook and it was clear they would not fit any other hook. Her car, a dark-blue 87 BMW that was a familiar to me as my own reflection, sat in front of the roll-up door. "There you go, there should be room for your bike ... I think."

I walked past her, moved her lawn mower and opened the garage doors. My Hayabusa was sitting where I had left it, the muffler still heat-pinging. I took it off it stand and walked the big, heavy bike in beside her Beemer.

"What's wrong with the car?"

"The mechanic wants a ridiculous amount for a simple part. He said there is a computer-sensor-packet (?) in it that needs to be replaced; it's sending bad signals to the motor. It will run, but it dies once the motor gets hot. Especially when you stop at a red light or a stop sign. Takes me forever to get it running again once it does that." She shook her head and made room for me to get back into the house past her. "I trust it to go get groceries in but not to drive it, what, a few hundred miles to a hotel somewhere?"

Wendy closed the door behind me and followed me back to the living room and then she disappeared into the kitchen. Giving the muted TV a look, I followed her. The kitchen door into her dining room was open and, when I passed it, I saw that it was filled with container garden planters. I opened my lips to ask why when there was a knock on the front door. Her black cat went rushing past me towards the door, meowing.

"Would you see who that is for me John? I've got my hands full with our dinner."

The short woman at the front door was startled to see me open it. She took a hasty step back. But then, I guess, the way I was dressed--white leather pants and a black tank top--was probably unusual for this neighborhood. I smiled to calm her.

"Is Wendy here?" she asked, blinking at me.

"She's in the kitchen."

"Hey, Margret, come on in." Wendy called from the kitchen door. "Just working on dinner for John and me. This is a friend of my son's. John, this is my neighbor Margret." The little woman smiled, nodded at me when I held the door open for her and she walked past the mewling cat to the kitchen. "Wendy, we're headed out. Are you sure we can't talk you into going with us?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Everyone is worried sick about my old tail feathers." Wendy washed her hands in the sink, dried them then turned and gave her friend a hug. "I'm going to be fine. The storms not going to get here till tomorrow night some time. You said it yourself, that both your house and mine only took minor damage during Fredric, and that hurricane was just as bad as Ivan. Like I told John, I've got things ready if I lose power, and I've been through rough times before. And if the Good Lord wants to take my old bones, well I've had a long life, and I've done all I was meant to. Now! You just tell Jim I said to drive safe. That those roads are a mad house full of idiots and he has to keep you safe, and him included."

I watched Wendy talk to her neighbor. I had to wonder at what she had meant by that "done all I was meant to" remark. I waved to the short lady as her and Wendy walked back towards the living room. Looking at the kitchen counter I saw that Wendy had flattened out hamburger patties. Remembering my trip here back in the spring I stepped through the sliding glass doors to her patio and saw that she had lit the gas grill. I went back in, got the burgers and set them to cooking while she talked to her neighbor, and that woman's husband, Jim(?), out front.

Wendy gave them both a hug and they drove away in a green Ford Explorer. It looked to be packet to the roof and beyond.

"John?"

"Out here."

"Oh good, you got dinner going. I'll put out all the toppings and get some fries to cooking."

"Wendy?"

"Yeah, John?" I could see from her posture she was expecting a lecture, or other plea from me to leave, she had already planted her foot as if she was bracing for it. And I wanted to give her one. A good long talking to over how silly she was being in the face of the huge storm that was sitting a day off shore, already coming at us with winds that would tears roofs off houses and a storm surge to topple walls. I wanted to toss her over my shoulder go get on the Hayabuse and ride out of here as fast as I had ridden in. And I could tell, by the look in Wendy's dark eyes, she knew I was thinking such a thing. "Yes?"

"No onions. Please."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Even with all of the containers she had taken inside Wendy's garden still looked more than ready for a garden magazine photographer. I could see where she had done things since April. And a lot more than the trimming and pruning she had said she was doing.

Sitting there among the late summer flowers, enjoying the calm evening breeze, with my belly full, it was amazing how peaceful it felt here. As if nothing could disturb this home she had made for herself her. I watched her through the open French door pacing back and forth in her kitchen, on the phone with someone, probably Martin. I had convinced her to turn it back on. Really hoping without hope that her son or Ex-husband might talk some sense into her. Get her to leave, even if we had to go rent her a car to do it.

If there was still an open car rental place for her to get one at.

I had tried to watch the news. The local stations were not down playing this one bit. They were urging the voluntary evacuation of all of the panhandle area. The coastal islands were already being evacuated, whether people wanted to go or not. With the stars peeking through shredded clouds over head it was hard to imagine that by this time tomorrow night this whole area would be under a hurricane. And I think that was half the problem.

She left the phone on the kitchen counter and came out to join me carrying a glass of juice.

"I swear, you would have thought the wind had never blown before. The way my son is making out you and I are headed for OZ tomorrow." She plopped down next to me. "And his father is making it worse. He knows I won't talk to him anymore so Jason keeps calling Martin and scaring him more and more. He's got the boy so riled up he was talking about catching a plane from Salt Lake to come, bodily, drag me out of here." She shook her head. "The both of you! I was a grown woman--working two jobs and juggling a house full of bills--taking care of my own self and a husband, when the two of you boys were in diapers."

"Wendy ... Martin loves you. You're his mom and it is scaring him to death thinking that you're here in harm's way." I sat back, looking at her face, those eyes so dark in the shadows as to be black. "Of course he's worried."

She shook her head. And sat quiet for a few minutes looking at her house. Then she sighed. "I was just getting this place respectable again. You should have seen it when I first moved in. All the walls inside were a sunset yellow. Terrible color, looked like the house had smoker's tar stains on the walls. And this garden. Nothing but Johnson grass, prickly weeds and overgrown shrubs. That palmetto over there was half-dead, hadn't been seen to in years. It took me a month to get it to looking even like it was still alive."

"It beautiful, the whole place is, but Wendy ... it's just a building. It's just a house and some plants, all of it can be repaired and replaced. You can't be." I reached over had took her hand. She then popped the back of mine with her other, but held onto it. Her fingers a strong warmth.

"Oh, pooh. Jason showed me that's a lie. He replaced me in what two months, three? And besides that I'm not going anywhere any time soon. This will blow over. By Friday I will be cleaning the leaves off the lawn and trying to get the neighborhood plastic flamingos down off the roof. Honestly, John, it's just a storm."

"No Wendy, it's not. By this time tomorrow night the winds in this courtyard will be over a hundred miles an hour. I've felt winds like that ... on my bike. They are ungodly strong. If you let go for even a second the winds, by themselves, will push you off the seat and leave you skipping on your butt down the highway."

"John, that's not a way to convince me to leave with you on that bike, not that that is going to happen no matter what, but that certainly not going to do it." She gave my hand a squeeze. "Look. Get some sleep tonight. In the morning the rain will get here, but if you leave early you might be able to get ahead of it. Just go home, I mean back to school, I will be fine. I's a big girl," she said with a smile. "I can handle this little catastrophe without someone holding my hand."

When she turned my hand loose and got up to go, but I caught her fingers again before she could walk away. "Wendy ... I'm not going anywhere."

She smiled, and then sighed and shook her head. "Stubborn men, pooh on all of you. Oh, well ... good enough. I needed help trying to get the storm shutters to work tomorrow, anyway. Some of them have forty coast of paint on their hinges and they don't want to close. I'm going to go check on my cat. Tobias has been fussy all day, and he tends to throw up in my shoes when he's like that. And I haven't seen him since Margaret left, and that is way too suspicious for words."

I watched her walk away and into the house. My eyes absently followed those familiar curves. Old memories of my first crushes on her came back with that.

There had been a time, not too many years back, when Martin's mom had been the fantasy of my latest nights. A few high school girl friends, the ones willing to let me touch their boobs, and then my first year college fling--the one that had left me smiling wide and bright for months--had come and gone. But there was still a spark there in that old memory. I had moaned her name, into a pillow so mom didn't hear it, on more than a few nights.

I smiled as I remember that not all of those nights were so long ago. Glancing over at the small backyard pool it didn't take much memory to see her again sitting, in her one piece, in that reclined chair getting some sun. It had only been back in April after all. But, even as I was thinking of that nice afternoon six months back, memories of April did what they always do to me. They bring me back to those two biker girls that I had met that strange early morning. I fingered the little cross on my bracelet such an odd gift, but one that I had never taken off since. Not even knowing why not at times. As I read the slogan on the warm metal I gave those words even more thought.

"Love Forever."

Getting up, I looked south. The sky was thickest with the shredding clouds that way. She was right, by morning the rain would be getting here. Tomorrow was going to be an eternity long, that much I knew, but tomorrow night ... well, that might be the longest night in my life. I took a deep breath and let the charm fall from my fingers.

"Or the last," I mumbled to myself.

I went inside to watch the weather. And to worry.