“Gotta toughen him up, that bloody pansy son of yours.”
And then because I peed my pants, I’d get a beating.
It happened more times than I can count.
My body still remembers those stormy hours, even years later.
Every time shadows brew on the horizon.
Every time I hear thunder echo.
The nausea rises.
My thoughts spiral.
I don’t know how to make it stop.
It just takes over.
Being in an unfamiliar location makes it worse.
More vulnerable somehow.
???
The other passengers seem fine about it, excited even.
That’s when the dread deepens.
Perhaps city storms are always like this.
I really wish Beth was here.
I reach for my phone to call her.
No signal. Not even one bar.
Has the grid gone down already?
The rain hits first, pummeling down until the gutters overflow.
My bus has to take a detour, letting us off one suburb from where I need to be.
I haven’t been to this part of town before.
Which way am I supposed to go?
No signal for GPS.
I follow the maze aimlessly until I find a familiar sushi store.
Everything is shut.
Sandbags line the entry ways.
The river walkway has been cordoned off.
Who’d be dumb enough to go down there on a day like this?
