Page 65 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

Cai

You’re serious.

Sonny

Deadly. You make stories come alive. That’s rare talent. Now let’s see if you can write a side quest as good as the one that made you cry.

This is probably moving too fast. But after last night, after feeling her fall apart in my arms and then watching her sleep so peacefully in my bed, I don’t care.

Some things are worth rushing.

Rule #27

TAKE A BREAK AFTER THE HURRICANE TO ENJOY THE SURVIVAL

CAI

I spend the morning pretending to be the queen of the castle. I wrap myself in one of Sonny’s plush bathrobes, slather lotion I find on the bathroom counter all over my body, and make myself a coffee from the Keurig in the kitchen. I sip it while looking at the mountains before the day gets too hot.

When I moved to Arizona two years ago, I was amazed by the landscape. At the time, I had only ever lived in Miami, and the tallest thing we had to drive on was the Rickenbacker Causeway. I had grown up around beaches, tropical plants, and enough mosquitoes to make you sick. Phoenix is the polar opposite. At first, I found the dry deserts and jagged mountain lines awe-inspiring but lonely. Desolate and strange, it reminded me of the alien planets in Star Wars.

After some time, I’ve grown used to them. They’ve become the backdrop to my adult life, my adult home.

Now, sitting on Sonny’s patio, they take on a different shape. The tall tan peaks are a wall, a protective fence for the queen in her new castle.

Any other day, getting three pieces of bad news in the same morning would’ve triggered a stage-five meltdown. Today, however, my employer’s email letting me go, the message that my lease was up, and even Trevor’s texts, promising to make this split way more difficult than it needs to be, aren’t bringing me down. I am still riding the serotonin-Sonny-induced worship high from last night. I’ll figure it out eventually, just not today.

This is a monumental moment for me. I, the compulsive worrier, the anxiety-fueled self-flagellater, the one who can’t bear to think that anyone hates me, am totally at peace and not bothered at all by the morning’s unpleasantness. I take it in stride and stretch lazily before messaging Sonny.

I am shocked to hear of the job. For some reason, this hits me harder than all the bad news. I can’t believe it; did he really have such faith in me? To allow me to play a part in something he holds so dear? I feel honored and equally nervous about letting him down.

I begin to think about the paths in the game I played a few days ago. Would I be able to live up to the story that drove me to tears? I find a notebook and a pen and start writing out ideas. Without knowing the theme or background of this game, I can’t provide specifics, but I jot down some general themes, ideas, puzzles, and traits.

I find myself reflecting on those tales from my family. I wonder if I could tie in the retelling of the Bay of Pigs or the ghost hunting. Maybe there will be a place for the stories of my grandfather crossing piranha-filled waters as a little boy, or the foiled plots I heard about during the Cuban revolution. I have no shortage of ideas.

I write and plot until the doorbell sounds.

For a moment, I hesitate. Is it ok if I answer his door? I open it, peek out, and see a box on the stoop. The package Sonny mentioned!

I grab it excitedly and open it, revealing a red, floor-length maxi-dress with a V-neckline and long sleeves. The material is butter-smooth, and although it’s a long dress, it feels like a comfy, worn shirt. I squeal in excitement and take it to Sonny’s bedroom to try it on.

I’m disappointed to see that Sonny has gotten a size too small. I am able to squeeze into the soft, stretchy material but just barely. It clings badly to my thighs and shows every ripple and dimple.

My phone buzzes.

Sonny

Got the notification that the package was delivered. Did you get it?

I frown.

Cai

Yea, but it doesn’t fit right.

Sonny

Oh no! Can you show me?