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“Damn it!”
The rain picks up. Not too much, but enough that if Nadia wants to call me, her phone will get wet. I stick with dinner prep. Nadia is a grown woman, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my first couple of days with her is to loosen up. She’s capable of taking care of herself.
Fifteen minutes later and the rain dwindles. I’m expecting to see a hint of blue emerge from the trail since she has a turquoise track fit on. Steaks are on the outside grill when I hear thunderclaps crackle and lightning zigzag across the sky. Rain plummets down right after. Pellets fall so hard they jump off the back porch rail and strike me on my thigh. Within a second, I open the orange umbrella, and I yank another one from by the door. Nearly stumbling off the porch, I jog toward the trail. My heart rate picks up as it’s difficult running in flip-flops, but I refuse to turn around.
“Nadia!” I holler.
The rain is so heavy that it’s hard to see. I charge down the path. The umbrella’s damn near hopeless as I try to imagine where Nadia would place herself. I pray there are no wavering tree branches, and I hope she’s made it to Adam’s school. She could be under the school’s front door awning. Maybe she’s hurdled in the tiny playground playhouse. This is one thing that makes me relax a bit, knowing all the areas she could be seeking shelter in. I know she walked down this path, and if she left over thirty minutes ago, she surely passed the elementary school.
“Nadia!” I holler.
More thundering is heard. The pain from my right flip-flop strap between my big toe and pointer toe expands from running faster. Raindrops take turns splashing in my eyes. I became frustrated with myself. I do not have my phone, so if she is trying to call, how the hell will I know.
I was so eager to mount off the stairs and rescue her that I ignored all the To Do’s. I angrily throw my fist in the air and close the umbrella shut. It’s useless to have it open at this point. I am already drenched. I also yank off my flip-flops. Not only are they hurting me, but I can run faster without them.
Leaving them on the side of the path and, now barefoot, I pick up speed.
“Nadia! Nadia!”
I spot the school ahead. I turn side to side, looking for any spot of blue anywhere. I’m sure Nadia will respond if she hears me. I holler her name a few more times as I approach the school.
She’s not in the front, so I head to the side. I slow down to search the area with my eyes. I ignore every stubble, pebble, or rock my feet feel as the thunderclaps grow heavier and louder. Almost too loud to hear a scream.
I jog around to the playground. My face loosens, and my jaw opens wide, “Nadia?”
She’s under the little roof of the playhouse. Her eyes are red as she cries heavily, her face scrunched up. She dashes straight toward me. I scoop her right up in my arms, and her legs wrap around me for dear life.
“Come on, let’s get back,” I say.
I carry her as her head rests on my shoulder. She weeps in my ear, and it’s unclear if she’s hurt herself. I’m propelled to see what’s wrong, so I head to the front of the school and find a drier patch where the rain has yet to take over.
Under the awning, I place her on her feet. I take her face into my hands and look her in the eyes.
“Are you okay, love?”
She nods and pushes herself onto her tiptoes. Parting her exquisite mouth, she smothers me with a kiss. I was not expecting that. With such power and dominance, I feel small amongst her intensity. She pulls me out of savior mode, making me aroused and hot. As much as I’d love to explore making love in this spot, this weather is dangerous. We need to make it back.
“Come, hold my hand tight!” I find myself hollering over the thunder.
She nods, her determination to make it back safely read in her expression.
We take off down the path at an even pace. With firmness, she holds my hand. The hardy and furious rain pours down on us, trying to scare us. I spot several trees to the right of Nadia. I move her to the other side and pull her to pick up speed.
I bypass my flip-flops as I realize we are closer than I thought. It almost feels as if God cut our jog short. When I spot my patio, Nadia lets go of my hand, and we dash even faster toward the steps.
“Don’t slip! Mind the space.”
The smoke from the grill forms a cloud, and the aromatic seasoning smacks me in my face as we scurry up the porch. Directly, we head inside.
I close the door.
“It’s madness out there!”
I turn to Nadia, who’s covering her face. I grab a clean kitchen towel and tug at Nadia’s arms. She drops her hands, and I gently pat her face dry.
Her pretty, honey-amber eyes, glossy and sad, open wide like the first day I saw her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out there. You were right… you’ve been right a lot, actually.”
