Rainy Day

The rain fell in uneven sheets. Every few minutes, a flash of light would fill through the windows. Within seconds, the thunder’s rumble and shake exploded as the storm raged across the sky for the last three hours.

Emily curled up on an aged, green, and beaten bean bag in her studio apartment. It and its demolished twin made up the only “couch” that separated the length between her television, small kitchen, and futon behind it. A bundle of covers surrounded her as the only means of protection from the storm on the top floor of her complex.

She pushed the bangs of her red hair out of her face with one hand before grabbing the top blanket again and drawing it around herself. Emily hated storms but was stubborn, wanting to prove to her family that she could handle living independently after graduating college only six months ago. She had hastily searched for a place to live near the campus as a means of defiance because her parents believed the area unsafe for a young girl to be alone. She stuck her nose up at the concept at the time. She had lived near the area for the last five years, traveled to and from parties, and even hung out with friends in other apartment complexes nearby plenty of times. Living here would be no different, she thought.

What she didn’t anticipate was that the landlord would charge her a hundred dollars more than the rest of the tenants and give her a leasing contract that would all but guarantee that she would stay the two years that she had signed on for. There was a list of adventures as well that she could recall by each month. As she sat there feeling the downpour and rumble shake her bones, she thought out each month and the stories she decidedly omitted from her parents.

October: Ants.

November: Waterbugs.

December: Broken window from a launched brick.

January: The gas heater went out for a week.

February: Drunken driver wrecked into the building late at night.

March: The air conditioner wasn’t working and hadn’t been all last year either.

Granted, she couldn’t have known that the AC wasn’t working the year before, except that the maintenance man, Brandon, mentioned it. She was thankful that he lived in the complex, on the first floor, as he had managed to get up there early in the morning and have it knocked out by noon. She returned the favor by making a cheesecake and bringing it to him the next day.

Brandon was only three years older than Emily, having celebrated his twenty-sixth birthday in January. She had gone down to his door and left a card on his door, along with a thank you for the work he had done. By then, it became a regular weekly meeting where he worked on something or another in her apartment. She strained not to focus on his arms as he worked, but she couldn’t help but lose concentration as he talked. Anytime he would turn to look at her, she would turn away quickly, flustered, and blush immediately, the red of her cheeks and neck becoming a stark contrast to her freckles.

From what she knew, Brandon was the nephew of the actual owner of the building. The owner, who she had never seen, lived in Europe but owned many of the complexes nearby and hired landlords to run everything for him. The landlord could have been better, but Brandon’s choice of living there made things more accessible, as the various requests were taken care of quickly. Considering all the issues the apartment had, she felt lucky to have him there.

Thunder shook the building again, pulsing through her body, following the quick flash of lightning as it traced across the dark clouds and crashed to the ground somewhere nearby. It pulled her away from her thoughts and back into the depressing situation she found herself in. Her friends had all left for spring break, and as her parents had no other children, they decided to take a vacation to Florida and enjoy the warm weather before the heat rolled in heavily with the high humidity that came in the summer months. So, Emily was as close to alone as she could be.

Well, alone was a strong word. She still had Button. Looking over to the futon, she saw the black and white cat curled up and sleeping peacefully. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, comfortable through the storm, but he was a rescue, so maybe he was used to it. With the chance of a lightning bolt hitting her where she sat and a few feet away, she scuttled over to the futon and reached out to him. Button opened his eyes just enough to see her hand stretch out towards him, unfurled his body out into an extensive stretch, and yawned, finishing in a slight chirp as he brought his head up to her hand to be scratched behind his ears.

“Not so scary, is it, Button? If you can handle it, I should be able to.”

Reaching inside, she mustered enough courage to stand and let the blankets fall off her. Realizing that he wouldn’t get more attention, Button turned over and placed his back to Emily; one paw stretched out as he closed his eyes again and readied himself for the fourteenth hour of sleep in the day. Emily knew that once the storm was over, it would probably be close to three or four in the morning, and while she could finally sleep, Button would start his morning routine of running around the room and playing with any and all toys that made a sound. Then, he would follow that up by meowing at her at six for breakfast.

Emily stretched, her body sore from sitting in the bean bag for hours. Looking around the room, she tried to find ways to distract herself. In the kitchen, she knew the fridge had little in it, but she could pull out the Chinese takeout she had ordered the night before and eat it.

Was that yesterday? Or the day before? She wondered, unsure if the food would even be good to eat.

Next to the television was a small bookshelf with a small stack of books and the odd knick-knacks that she had been given when she moved in as housewarming presents. Not exactly wanting to read, though, she sat next to Button on the futon and grabbed the remote. The sounds of the weather report helped distract from the rain, but the intensity did not die down, causing a white noise effect over the newscaster.

“And it looks like that won’t be it, folks. While the storm was originally going to head towards Manhattan, then pass over and head into the ocean. Unfortunately, it looks like it’ll be passing through towards Oyster Bay, then curving South to Southwest.”

Looking at the green screen behind the weatherman, Emily watched the theoretical storm’s plans, revolving before striking Elizabeth, New Jersey, then returning to Manhattan.

“While we assumed the storm would end near two in the morning, it looks like it’ll be all night and maybe into the morning, meaning that those who have to work will want to get out a little earlier to deal with the day’s traffic.”

Emily groaned, then jerked as thunder cracked through the room. The light from the overhead stove light and the television shut off with a loud crackling sound, and the air conditioner hummed down, signaling the loss of power.