The wind was howling and the heavy drops of rain fell steadily. Although it was only ten am, the weather made it look more like dusk, ominous grey clouds blocking out the morning light. I looked out at my yard and wondered if everything would hold up—two of my maples and one of my elms were swaying fairly heavily. As pretty as large trees are, they can be hell during storms. Last year there'd been a terrible thunder storm that brought down branches on the property, but then I'd had help clearing them up. That was before my ex left, before he'd decided that there was a woman at his office that was more to his liking, before he decided that being with me was not in his future.
We'd been growing apart for awhile, so I suppose it shouldn't have been much of a surprise. I mean, when we first got together five years ago, we were a pretty good couple. We got along more than we fought and fucked more than we talked. After a few years, the fucking became less, the talking was almost non-existent, and it was more like we were roommates who'd occasionally fall into bed together, which was pretty sad considering I was only 29. My sexual appetite began to be fulfilled by toys, and that scared him away even more.
The house was mine—it was my grandmother's and I'd inherited, he moved in easily and without much fanfare, and his moving out was about the same. It hurt, but I wasn't devastated. It was times like these though, when I realized how alone I really was. The temperature was beginning to drop and I let the curtain fall back across the window, stepping back from the ice pellets that were now bouncing off the old panes. It would be nice to have someone toI didn't have a big yard but I lived in an old neighbourhood where the majority of the houses were at least a century old and so were most of the trees.
Being near the centre of the city was nice, a short walk to a plethora of stores and it also meant I didn't use my car very often. I walked everywhere and my car mostly sat in the carport around the side of my house. It was useful to have though, when I needed to get bigger items home or when I visited my parents who lived farther out in a suburb. I was just debating if visiting them might be a better idea than sitting here alone when a large crashing sound shook the house. I tried looking out the windows, but the storm had turned icy so they were crusty and coated, more opaque than translucent. Sighing, I hauled on a pair of boots and my heavy jacket, then cracked open the back door to look outside.
The wind lashed and pinpricks of ice stung me as I stepped away from the porch to investigate the damage. A very thick branch had fallen across the driveway blocking in my car and, from the looks of it, landing partly on the roof of the carport. I guess visiting them was no longer an option. Hopefully they're fine, hunkered down in their bungalow. A few more loud cracking sounds chase me back inside. I really didn't want the next branch to land on me.
I tried calling my parents just to check on them, but they didn't have cell phones and their landline was either out or they were, since it kept ringing and ringing. I was kind of at a loss as to what to do. Ordinarily I'd be walking to the market, but the sidewalks were treacherous so that wasn't an option. Instead, after I dried off a little, I decided to catch up on some work and fired up the computer. That lasted for all of another fifteen minutes or so when another crash coincided with the power cutting out. Hopefully it would only be a short outage, but my gut was telling me that, with the storm, there was going to be problems getting power restored.
Two hours into the power failure, I'd located all my candles and was huddled under a pile of blankets. My house was nice looking, but draughty—most of my windows were original, and I didn't have a working fireplace. Even though my furnace was gas, it requires electricity to power the fans, so it wasn't working either. If power wasn't restored soon, I was going to be really cold. I already had my thermal socks and mittens on when there was a knock on my door.
Bracing myself for more cold air, I yanked open the door to a familiar figure. "Hi Mitch." He was wearing his familiar lumberjack shirt—a red and black plaid woollen jacket type thing that a lot of guys wear between seasons—a Red Wings toque over his thick wavy dark hair, and a heavy pair of work boots. He's the kind of neighbour that you don't really know, but wave to while they mow their lawn. I signal for him to step in for a moment, moving aside for his large body, and close the storm door to conserve what little heat there is. "What's up?"
"Hi Nicole, I was just checking to see if you were okay. You know, since the power's out and your car can't go anywhere." He gestured to my stick strewn lawn which now resembled an obstacle course. "Do you have a fireplace?"
"I'm okay, just cold. I don't have a fireplace, the insurance company made me cap it when I took over the house. The chimney wasn't up to code or something." This is now the longest conversation we'd ever had. He rubbed his thick hands together to warm them up, and I take note of the callouses and closely trimmed nails.
"Well, a friend of mine works the lines for the power company and he said that they'd be working to restore this all day, if not 'til tomorrow. A couple of trees fell on the transformers and fried half the city, let alone all the lines down all over the place." There were bits of ice clinging to his trimmed goatee and moustache, and his nose was a bit red below his dark brown eyes.
"Oh, shit. I was going to go to my parents' but...well, you saw my car and I'm not even sure they're home." Panic rose in me a little at the thought of being without heat for so long, but one of Mitch's meaty hands moves to my arm, in a kindly gesture to help me calm down.
"I have a chainsaw, I can chop the branches up for you once the weather's clear if I can have the wood."
"Sure, that would be great," I looked up and his reassuring smile lit up his face.
"Look, I have a gas stove and a fireplace. Would you like to come over until the power's restored? I mean I don't like the idea of you freezing alone over here."
"That's really nice of you, but I'd hate to impose," truth be told, I really didn't want to be alone, and Mitch's offer sounded really inviting.
"Really, it's fine, I don't bite, I promise. Besides, it's supposed to start snowing soon, that's just going to make it colder."
"Crap. I'd better go turn on my taps."
"I'll get the ones in the kitchen, if it will help." Mitch removed his hand as we moved away, and I couldn't help but miss the weight of it.
"Sure, thanks."
I ran up the stairs to the bathroom and carefully turned the taps just a bit so that water started to drip. If they're running, even a little, they're less likely to freeze and burst in the cold. While I was upstairs, I grabbed a few more pieces of clothing and tossed them into a bag, along with some toiletries and a book. I realized that even though I didn't know Mitch very well, I needed his help, and who was I to turn down such a generous offer.
Upon returning downstairs, I slid on my heavy boots and winter coat.
"Uh, do you have any food?" Mitch asked, sheepishly, "Today's my shopping day, and I'm pretty much out."
"Uh, yeah, I have some stuff, anyway." He follows as I go back into my kitchen and together we look through the fridge and freezer. "I've got a roast. Would that be good?" It was supposed to be for my parents for tomorrow, but it's not a big deal.
His eyes light up, "Yeah, that'd be fantastic." His figure dwarfed mine and I can catch a hint of his spicy scent as we stand near to each other.
I tried to ignore the signals firing in me. It had been months since I'd had a man, and Mitch was certainly a man. "Great, well, I've got potatoes and carrots and stuff to go with it. Can you just pass me that bin?" I point to the grocery basket on the counter. "I usually shop today, too, but I always try to have some stuff around." I didn't mean it as a dig, but it might have come across that way.
"I'm not much of a cook, but I appreciate a good meal," he told me with a warm smile. Good, not insulted.
"I think there's even some bread," I added.
"Sounds great. Honestly, I'll eat pretty much anything."
"Have you had lunch? Because this roast will take a few hours."
"No."
"No problem, pasta for lunch." I grabbed a pack of linguine nests and pesto from the fridge.
