Page 7 of No Judgements

“The only thing you have to worry about,” she went on, “is flooding.”

“Flooding?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t living here then, but I heard it happened during Hurricane Wilhelmina—not too bad, only a foot. But Lydia had to replace the fridge and stove and stuff—”

I stared at her.Flooding?

“But every hurricane’s different,” Daniella went on. “Some are rain events, some are wind. You just never know. If it’s only wind, you’re golden in this place.”

“I think,” I said, getting up, “I’ll just go check my messages.”

“Yeah.” Daniella nodded. “You should. Also, you should probably go to the store and buy some supplies before they run out, just in case. Like bottled water. And food for Gary. And alcohol. I have a list the Red Cross gave us to hand out to people. Alcohol’s not on it, of course, but I wouldn’t even go through a tropical storm without tequila, let alone a hurricane.”

I took the paper she plucked from the top of her dresser.Many of the things we already had—canned goods, bread, a manual can opener. But others—flashlight, batteries—it had never occurred to me to purchase. Daniella must have read my expression since she laughed and said, “I have all that stuff in the closet by the kitchen. Bought it for the last storm that headed our way, then never used it because it veered out to sea. You just might want to buy fresh batteries. But you’re welcome to the rest of the stuff.”

I felt relief wash over me. “Thanks, Dani. You’re a lifesaver. Literally!” Suddenly overwhelmed by how lucky I was to have found a roommate—and friend—like her, merely by answering an ad, I added, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” she said, and opened her arms to give me one of her “Dani hugs,” which she handed out frequently at the hospital (but never, she’d informed me, to the “drunk frat boys during spring break.” Even Dani had her limits).

And then she was gone. Her last words to me were to be sure to look after her sourdough starter—Daniella was an avid baker—that she’d inherited from her grandmother, but which would spoil in the fridge if the power went out.

I swore I would.

She’d barely been out of the apartment for five minutes before I became convinced that I was never going to see her again.

Chapter Four

If your community calls for a mandatory evacuation, heed the warning.

Iwas being ridiculous. The reason I felt so down was because the apartment seemed so dark and lonely after Dani left. She was such a bright and energetic force.

Also it wasliterallydark, since Sonny Petrovich had come around outside and begun to shutter the windows with large stainless steel planks, each one of which had to be drilled into place along runners that were secured onto the walls of the apartment building with a number of long screws.

I kept the Weather Channel on for company as I ate lunch—leftover chicken salad from the café—though it was hard to hear over Sonny’s drilling.

I soon regretted it. Not the salad, the news.

Because according to the news, everyone who lived in South Florida who did not immediately evacuate from the area was going to die.

Not only die, but die in a variety of ways, most likelyfrom drowning in the tidal surge Hurricane Marilyn was bringing with it, and also from the destructive force of its 170-mile-per-hour winds.

The forecasters couldn’t be sure, since there was no power or communication in Saint Martin or the Virgin Islands or anywhere else Hurricane Marilyn had already struck, but they were predicting that hundreds in the storm’s apocalyptic path were probably already dead, and that those who did not get out of its way now would soon be dead as well.

Since this seemed like information I could do without, I switched off the television and opened my laptop. I had dozens of emails and social media messages from friends and relatives wondering if it was true that I had not evacuated and if so, why not. My phone was the same way, only with text messages and voice mails.

Most of them were from my mother. Each held a note of mounting hysteria. Classic Justine Beckham:

I think you should know that the governor of Florida has just issued a statement that anyone who doesn’t evacuate from your area had better write their Social Security number on their arm so that their bodies can be identified after the storm.

My mom had always known how to lay on the drama. It was one of the reasons her radio show was number one in her time slot, even though it was about legal advice.

I don’t know what you’re thinking turning down Caleb’s generous offer. I know you’re angry with him, but what happened wasn’t his fault. Kyle was drunk—did you know he’s in rehab now? You can’t hold Caleb responsible for the actions of his friends. You of all people should know this, considering you went to law school—not, of course, that you bothered to finish.

Wow, Justine. Way to turn the knife.

That was interesting about Kyle, though. I hadn’t known he’d gone to rehab. That was big. Huge, even.

Although it didn’t change anything, it actually made me feel a little better. If Kyle was in rehab, it meant he couldn’t come after me again. I’d sleep even better now, knowing this, despite the coming storm.