LJ Idol Week 15- Failure to Communicate
The wind was howling. Branches from trees fell loose, hitting cars as the hurricane winds brought them to their death. I looked outside, not knowing what I was looking for, but wanting to see something, some sign of life; some sign that this was going to end.
The house next door collapsed. It had been one of the sturdiest in the neighborhood, but nothing mattered anymore. It was just a matter of time before our house collapsed on our heads. I looked out the window again. The wind screamed back.
I got up from the forest green couch that had once been my favorite reading place. It used to be in the living room, but had been pushed up against the door along with everything that was of substantial weight. During the day it was easiest to spot the looters, but at night, you had to be on the lookout. The torrential downpour wasn’t the only thing that could kill.
“Babe, is there anymore food?” Aaron yelled at me from the kitchen. We had two rooms left, the kitchen and the living room. The rest had cracks in the walls, causing floods and ruining any hopes for living. I thought of my chest of dolls, where I kept my secret stash of food.
“No, we ran out. I told you that yesterday. But just like always, you don’t listen.” He ignored me as he rummaged through everything in the kitchen. I ran my fingers through my bright red hair and sighed. It wasn’t my fault we were in this predicament. We could have been safe up north, battling on Nintendo instead of fighting to survive. But Aaron had to be a “man” and fight out the storm. Never mind that the weather had been said to be the worst of the century. We lived through Katrina, but this was ten times worse.
I looked out the window again and rested my head. I watched as another house collapsed under the weight of the wind and water. I closed my eyes, and the rain sang me to sleep.
I woke up the next morning to Aaron standing over me. “I’m going out to find food.” I looked outside. I didn’t respond but searched for possible threats. I saw that the rain had lightened up a bit, noticing that the eye of the storm had come upon us.
“Alright, but take the gun.” Everyone who had survived past this point was armed with something that could kill. He grabbed it and looked at me with disdain as I got up to go to the bathroom. We hadn’t talked more than a few words since the hurricane hit land a month ago. I didn’t know him anymore.
As Aaron was gone, I ate my meal. He would kill me if he found out I had hid food, but I needed it more than him. I cleared up the mess and went into the bathroom. I looked into the broken mirror and grabbed the pouch of tampons. I took out a test and proceeded to take it. It was wrong, it had to be wrong.
The two lines were unmistakable. I had raided a dead convenience store a month ago and taken almost 100 pregnancy tests. I’ve thus used almost 35 already. I wasn’t ready to be a mom at twenty-five, let alone in the middle of a war zone, with the enemy hurricane winning. I needed to eat more; I calculated I was in my second trimester making my way to the third.
I sighed. We should have left. The president had completely shut down the state of Florida after a week, as roads were flooded, and animals ran rampant. The death toll was innumerable, and no one hoped for the survival of anyone. Cut off the dead weight. Our supplies were running thin.
I thought of the boat in the background, completely surrounded by brush. Who knew what kind of snakes swam rampant in the water, but every day I thought of the boat as my escape, as my babies escape. I couldn’t bring my baby to term in this. I wouldn’t.
For the next couple of weeks, I worked diligently to clear the brush from the boat. After a month, I checked the engine, and cried when it turned on. I kept asking Aaron to help me, that we could survive. He ignored me. When did we forget how to communicate? When would he realize I was slowly becoming fatter, while essentially starving?
Two months had passed when I finally cleared a way for the boat. The hurricane had passed, but another was on its way. The sky never deviated from the gray that it had first presented three months earlier. It was a couple hours on boat to Georgia and I was determined to make it that night.
“Aaron it’s ready.” I gathered my stuff and started to pack what little I could to bring, including the few pictures and valuables I had saved. I looked up. Aaron was looking at me with disgust.
“I can’t believe you.” His voice was quiet, and if looks could kill, we’d both be dead.
“What?” He found the tests I had stored, didn’t he? I knew I should have hid them better.
“You fucking had a food stash? You fucking made me go out and hunt every day when you had a fucking huge ass drawer of food? Are you serious?” He moved closer to me, and I backed against the couch. My stomach lurched.
“Aaron, please…”
I felt the blow before I saw it. It flew me back into my couch, and I couldn’t move. All I could see was the blood. There was so much of it. I blacked out.
I woke up and everything was gone. My home had collapsed, Aaron had taken my food and the boat, and I didn’t even have to look to know I had lost my baby.
He should have listened, I thought. I should have told him.
The house next door collapsed. It had been one of the sturdiest in the neighborhood, but nothing mattered anymore. It was just a matter of time before our house collapsed on our heads. I looked out the window again. The wind screamed back.
I got up from the forest green couch that had once been my favorite reading place. It used to be in the living room, but had been pushed up against the door along with everything that was of substantial weight. During the day it was easiest to spot the looters, but at night, you had to be on the lookout. The torrential downpour wasn’t the only thing that could kill.
“Babe, is there anymore food?” Aaron yelled at me from the kitchen. We had two rooms left, the kitchen and the living room. The rest had cracks in the walls, causing floods and ruining any hopes for living. I thought of my chest of dolls, where I kept my secret stash of food.
“No, we ran out. I told you that yesterday. But just like always, you don’t listen.” He ignored me as he rummaged through everything in the kitchen. I ran my fingers through my bright red hair and sighed. It wasn’t my fault we were in this predicament. We could have been safe up north, battling on Nintendo instead of fighting to survive. But Aaron had to be a “man” and fight out the storm. Never mind that the weather had been said to be the worst of the century. We lived through Katrina, but this was ten times worse.
I looked out the window again and rested my head. I watched as another house collapsed under the weight of the wind and water. I closed my eyes, and the rain sang me to sleep.
I woke up the next morning to Aaron standing over me. “I’m going out to find food.” I looked outside. I didn’t respond but searched for possible threats. I saw that the rain had lightened up a bit, noticing that the eye of the storm had come upon us.
“Alright, but take the gun.” Everyone who had survived past this point was armed with something that could kill. He grabbed it and looked at me with disdain as I got up to go to the bathroom. We hadn’t talked more than a few words since the hurricane hit land a month ago. I didn’t know him anymore.
As Aaron was gone, I ate my meal. He would kill me if he found out I had hid food, but I needed it more than him. I cleared up the mess and went into the bathroom. I looked into the broken mirror and grabbed the pouch of tampons. I took out a test and proceeded to take it. It was wrong, it had to be wrong.
The two lines were unmistakable. I had raided a dead convenience store a month ago and taken almost 100 pregnancy tests. I’ve thus used almost 35 already. I wasn’t ready to be a mom at twenty-five, let alone in the middle of a war zone, with the enemy hurricane winning. I needed to eat more; I calculated I was in my second trimester making my way to the third.
I sighed. We should have left. The president had completely shut down the state of Florida after a week, as roads were flooded, and animals ran rampant. The death toll was innumerable, and no one hoped for the survival of anyone. Cut off the dead weight. Our supplies were running thin.
I thought of the boat in the background, completely surrounded by brush. Who knew what kind of snakes swam rampant in the water, but every day I thought of the boat as my escape, as my babies escape. I couldn’t bring my baby to term in this. I wouldn’t.
For the next couple of weeks, I worked diligently to clear the brush from the boat. After a month, I checked the engine, and cried when it turned on. I kept asking Aaron to help me, that we could survive. He ignored me. When did we forget how to communicate? When would he realize I was slowly becoming fatter, while essentially starving?
Two months had passed when I finally cleared a way for the boat. The hurricane had passed, but another was on its way. The sky never deviated from the gray that it had first presented three months earlier. It was a couple hours on boat to Georgia and I was determined to make it that night.
“Aaron it’s ready.” I gathered my stuff and started to pack what little I could to bring, including the few pictures and valuables I had saved. I looked up. Aaron was looking at me with disgust.
“I can’t believe you.” His voice was quiet, and if looks could kill, we’d both be dead.
“What?” He found the tests I had stored, didn’t he? I knew I should have hid them better.
“You fucking had a food stash? You fucking made me go out and hunt every day when you had a fucking huge ass drawer of food? Are you serious?” He moved closer to me, and I backed against the couch. My stomach lurched.
“Aaron, please…”
I felt the blow before I saw it. It flew me back into my couch, and I couldn’t move. All I could see was the blood. There was so much of it. I blacked out.
I woke up and everything was gone. My home had collapsed, Aaron had taken my food and the boat, and I didn’t even have to look to know I had lost my baby.
He should have listened, I thought. I should have told him.