Page 32 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

This surprises me. I imagined Cai had been the victim of men who worshiped her, but maybe these men had a wandering eye or a bad habit or two. I hadn’t imagined they were inattentive or unwilling to get more serious with her.

“Her Christmas card last year had a picture of her and her boyfriend. It was the one picture, and it was a quick snippet of them at a bar or something. It wasn’t a great picture, so I assume it’s their only picture together. And they’ve been dating what? More than a year?” Alex looks at Crispi again for confirmation, but he just shrugs.

“But why would she put up with a relationship like that?” I ask, still confused.

“She’s always been like that,” Crispi explains. “When we were kids, she always had these romantic ideas and crushes, but like it wasn’t real. Like, she didn’t lie; she just took small gestures and made them bigger. Or she would try to tell us about someone who took her out or did the smallest gesture, and embellished it to something more grandiose.”

I feel sad imagining young Cai trying to make up a romance where she had none. “Maybe she really wanted you guys to accept her choices, so she makes them sound better than they are.”

Alex looks unconvinced. “I don’t know about that. It always felt to me like she was trying to convince herself of their affection, not us.”

“You guys obviously know her better, but do you realize how much she wants you guys to accept her? I know she often feels like the odd one out. This could be her way to try and connect,” I say to them.

“Maybe there’s some truth to that,” Crispi adds. “But Cai always acts like she’s the victim. That it’s poor her and we weren’t supportive enough.”

“Maybe she was the victim,” I say.

“And we are the aggressors?” Alex crosses her arms, challenging. “When she avoids us and doesn’t interact with us? When we all know that the minute Cai gets a boyfriend, this new guy will suddenly be more important than any of us? We all grew up in exactly the same place. The difference is that we always took it in stride, where we fit in, and Cai couldn’t stop focusing on where she was different.”

When she describes it like that, Cai’s upbringing takes on a new light. One where Cai is the one being distant, not the one being pushed away. I can’t help but reflect on my own family. Is this how they felt? Have they been trying to be close to me, and I pushed back?

“I don’t think she sees it like that. I think she thinks you guys see her as less than because she’s not around and not as settled,” I say.

“We couldn’t care less about her marital status; we just want to be part of her life,” Alex responds.

“You guys should tell her that,” I say. “Like now, tonight.”

“You can’t say stuff like that during a hurricane,” Crispi says.

“Why not?” I ask.

“You can’t prepare things as if you might never see each other again. It’s bad luck,” Crispi answers matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“It’s a stupid thing Abuelo used to say,” Alex explains. “You never did stuff like finish your will, or say goodbyes, or make confessions right before or during a potential disaster. It’s like the universe would sense your affairs were finally in order and come take you.”

I chuckle. “I have literally never heard anything like that. That’s so weird!”

“Sonny, in our family, that’s not even a top five weird thing,” Crispi smirks at me as if I am about to find out.

Rule #14

EVERYTHING IS HARDER IN THE DARK. EVERYTHING.

CAI

When the power goes out, the issue with using the bathroom is that the toilet doesn’t refill. I sit on the closed toilet lid in the dark, phone clutched in my hand like it might fly away if I loosen my grip. The bucket of water we keep handy for just such a situation sits untouched beside the tub. I’m not here to use the bathroom. I’m here to hide.

Trevor’s text glows on the screen. I read it for the umpteenth time.

Trevor

LMAO You’re so crazy babe. I’ll talk to you later.

Ten words and one laughing emoji. That’s it.

My emotions ricochet wildly; offended, angry, sad, and, worst of all, a pathetic little flicker of flattered at his referring to me as “babe.” Part of me wanted him to sound hurt, or jealous, or even remorseful. Another part hoped he’d stay gone so I could finally let go. This casual dismissal, however, like my entire dramatic flight and the lies I’d told my family, is nothing but a joke… has left me completely unmoored.