Page 46 of The Final Storm
I sit up, grass sticking to my skin, and look over at the crowd. A circle of people surrounds a fire, and I recognize myself holding a beer, sitting in Dean’s lap. The fire cracks and most of us laugh, myself included. Dean’s face is blank. He twirls a beer in one hand, clutching me with the other.
A friend of ours chimes in. “It was your decision to have the baby. We all told you how stupid it was.”
“Stupid!” My sister smacks the man’s knee. She’s tipsy, maybe a little drunk. Her features are soft and relaxed.
“They live for like… ever,” he continues.
“And you already smell,” another friend jabs at my brother-in-law.
I stand up and take a few steps toward them.
None of them can see me. Not real.
I squint at the faces flickering in the firelight, looking for something familiar to tie me to this moment.
What is this?
When is this?
A baby cries out, and then a second child babbles, answering his call. They’re speaking to each other. It’s BeLew, making noises and talking in that secret twin language even as infants. They’re on the laps of some friends whose names I can’t remember.
Dean takes a long swig of his beer, sinking lower in his chair, pulling me tighter against him. I lean my head back on his shoulder and adjust his arm. He only pulls tighter, pressing my breasts up, letting the cleavage peek out from under my shirt.
“I just wish someone would volunteer. I wanted a baby, and I got two.” My sister raises two fingers in the air. “That’s twice as many diapers, you know?”
“My darling wife, how good she is at math,” my brother-in-law chuckles. Everyone else laughs, and Dean crumples the beer can in his hand and throws it into the fire, sending orange sparks soaring into the air. I watch myself stiffen in his lap and the others turn their heads in his direction. He’s agitated, and I can’t help but feel nerves prickle on my skin at the sight.
“We don’t always get what we want now, do we?” Dean bites out. “Keep complaining, though. We all enjoy it. All of us.”
I rub the top of his thigh and turn back to give him a kiss.We were still together at this point, I think to myself.
“How about I get some more beer,” my brother-in-law suggests. He stands to leave, and Dean urges me off his lap. I get up and sit in an empty chair next to us, crossing my legs and sinking low.
It’s an odd sensation seeing yourself from the outside. I look timid, hiding in plain sight from the apparent fight that’s about to take place. Funny, I never thought of myself that way. Most of us don’t spend a lot of energy concerned with the people we once were. It’s the now that matters, and what we have become. I’m forced to see where it started. My eyes can’t look away from the woman that cowers to Dean Riggs’ every move.
Her eyes shift around the fire but always circle back to him. He’s her focus and her concern. My stomach churns at the thought.
BeLew are babies, which means… my baby died when… I count on my hand the time that has passed. It doesn’t matter, though. The sting is fresh in Dean’s eyes, and he’s brimming with anger. That rage filled him for some time after, although he would never admit the weakness.
“How about we talk about real issues instead of shitty diapers,” Dean snaps. “Storms are getting worse. Fields are flooded. What are you all going to do when all your crops die this year?”
“Dean, we’re having a good time,” my sister pleads. She speaks to him but looks at me. I sink lower in my chair in response.
“Right,” Dean says. “Maybe it will all just… go away.” He flutters his hands, mocking her.
I step inside the circle to hear better. The flames of the fire lick out, almost touching my shins. I feel the heat but it doesn’t hurt. I know these people. I raided their houses after the storms before we left.
They ran with what they had on their backs, and I don’t know if they’re alive anymore. A part of me yearns to touch them, hug them.
But they’re not real. None of this is real.
Dean storms away, bumping my brother-in-law’s shoulder on purpose when he passes by. Neither of them acknowledges the slight, but my brother-in-law gives my sister an eye roll as Dean passes. She motions for him to come back and opens the cooler, tossing him another beer.
I see myself get up and move behind the chairs, ignoring my sister’s glare and jogging towards Dean. He wraps an arm around my waist, and we, Dean and the me from back then, disappear into the night.
Instead of us dissolving into a mist, I’m pulled toward them. I lurch forward, tripping over my feet and passing through a neighbor on my way. I follow us, hearing muffled voices and broken bits of conversation.
When I catch up, pieces of this memory flash back. This night didn’t feel remarkable at the time, but there’s a reason I’m here to see this.
