Dan brushed his teeth by flashlight, rinsing his mouth with water from the bathtub. Then he dampened a washcloth and wiped his face with it. He was starting to feel tacky and unclean, but using soap would’ve required more water than he was willing to expend.
God help us if Marty and Marina find out we’ve got a full tub up here.
It was enough to last awhile, as long as they didn’t have to use it to flush the toilets.
What’ll we do when we run out of the pool water in the garage?
After Jen’s performance tonight, the odds of their procuring a refill from the Stankovics seemed dicey.
Marty can get more out of them. Although he’ll probably use half of it on the way home.
Dan switched off the flashlight and stood motionless in the dark. Anxious dread was vibrating through his body like a low-grade electrical current.
None of this was sustainable. Something had to give.
Maybe we’ll wake up in the morning and the power will be back on.
He knew this was magical thinking, but he let himself indulge in it anyway. Enough improbable bad things had happened over the past two days that it seemed fair to imagine an improbable good thing might happen.
Moving by memory in the darkness, he crept back to the bedroom and got under the sheets.
With no familiar background hum emanating from appliances, furnaces, air-conditioning, or distant cars, the silence felt like an abyss. He took a few deep, slow breaths, trying to calm himself enough to sleep.
Jen’s voice came from the far end of the bed.
“I’m sorry I fucked up.”
Which time?
“It’s okay.”
More silence.
“They can’t stay here, Dan.”
“It’s not going to be an issue. When we leave, they’ll leave.”
“When are we going to leave?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll pack us up while you’re at the AA meeting. We’ll leave as soon as you get back.” He tried to sound confident.
“It’s going to rain.”
Oh, Jesus.
“That’s okay. We’ve got rain gear.”
“It’s not just going to rain a little. It’s going to pour. It’s the leftovers of that hurricane coming up from the Gulf.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because I was looking at the forecast right before the power went out.”
Dan tried to think back. He had a hazy memory of checking the weather app on his phone and seeing a rain cloud next to Thursday.
“When’s it going to start?”
“I can’t remember. Maybe by the time we wake up.”
That’s awfully convenient.
“You’re not going to use the rain to try and get out of going to the meeting, are you?”
“You’re not going to make me walk into town if it’s pouring and forty degrees, are you?” Her voice prickled with defiance.
“Jen.”
“Dan.”
“You promised me—”
“If it’s fucking pouring—”
He clenched his teeth. This was infuriating.
“You. Have. A serious. Problem—”
“What do you think happens at AA meetings? You think they’re going to wave a magic wand over me and—”
“Ohmygod, Jen. You’re going to the—”
A knock at the door silenced him.
“Yeah?”
They heard the click of the knob, then the creak of the door against the frame. A flashlight beam danced on the floor in front of Marty’s feet.
“Hey, uh—do you guys have any more pillows?”
Dan sighed. “Yeah. Can you give us a minute?”
“Oh, sure.”
Silence. The flashlight beam held steady on the floor.
“Marty?”
“Yeah, dude.”
“Can you close the door and head down to the linen closet at the end of the hall? I’ll meet you there in a sec.”
“Sure thing, pal.”
The flashlight beam retreated behind the door as it closed.
“I’ll go to the fucking meeting,” Jen muttered. “But if they’re still here when I get back? I’m getting shitfaced.”
“I sincerely hope you’re kidding.”
“Get rid of them, and you won’t have to find out.”