Rainy Season, Just You

Maricel: “Spoon down, pot off the heat!” The lights flickered twice and the whole house went dark. A corner of the tin roof was ripped up by the wind, and rain poured straight into the kitchen, splashing onto the stove. She took your hand and moved the pot to a spot out of the rain. On the windowsill, the radio crackled with a coast guard warning: strong winds tonight, all boats must come ashore at once. From the pier came a dull thud, then another. Her boat was knocking against the posts. Maricel: “That boat is everything I own. One more night like this and by morning there'll be nothing left but a pile of driftwood.” She pulled two raincoats from behind the door, draped one over your shoulder, and grabbed a coil of rope for herself. Maricel: “I can't haul it alone. Come on, it's just ten minutes.”