We almost couldn’t see Cassadaga. That’s how black the storm was. The streetlights were on, looking like blurry pumpkins the closer we got to them.
“This place ain’t but a mile long,” Aunt Odie said. She muttered the words at the steamed-up windshield, wiping at the glass with the back of her hand. She wore a bit of egg on her chin. Now we drove eight miles an hour and that was still too fast.
I clutched at my seat belt. Tried to stare through the rain. Breakfast swam in my gut.
“It’s on the right.”
“I can’t see a thing,” I said.
“Look harder.”
“I’m looking.”
The heavens split, turning angry clouds bright with lightning, showing the sky to be deep purple, not black or gray at all.
“There,” she said, and would have pointed, I thought, if she hadn’t been so afraid to turn the wheel free.
Pale light bloomed in the rain. Blue as an eye.
A chill ran over my body, like I had taken off my skin, thrown it in the deep freeze, then slipped the flesh back on.
“What?” I said. “I mean, who?”
Aunt Odie didn’t say anything. Just drove through the flood, that had to be high as the hubcaps.
She pulled into the underwater driveway, smiling like she found sunken treasure. Which was almost the case, seeing the water standing in the yard. Good thing this—what? place of business? house?—was up off the ground on cinder blocks. Kept the interior dry. Anything tucked beneath the place, though, was washed away, sure. Hope they didn’t lay out fishing poles and gear there. Hope there was a shed for the hoe and shovel. But maybe people who saw the future knew that already and had moved anything of value to the front porch.
“What a day to turn fifteen,” Aunt Odie said, giving me the ol’ eyeball. Like maybe it was my fault the rain came and not a habit of Florida weather.
“If I had a choice,” I said, fingering the door handle, “I woulda chose May. Like Lucy. Or September, like Momma. That would make me a Libra. Not a stinky ol’ Virgo.”
The Virgin, I thought, then remembered Buddy’s hand on my arm, all warm. My breath caught.
“Oh, you choose,” Aunt Odie said, then hefted herself outta the car. I heard her splashing around. Probably wishing for rain boots. “Birth and death ain’t left to chance.”
“Sure they are,” I said without conviction, then opened the door and looked at the swirling water at my feet. I expected to see a flounder or a catfish. There weren’t any. “I need a life preserver.”
“Time’s a-wasting,” Aunt Odie said, “and this girdle is squeezing the life outta me. Plus, Sandy’s waiting to watch One Life to Live.”
Sandy is Aunt Odie’s best friend from high school. Once every two weeks they watch all their favorite soaps together. Sandy was coming in this evening after my party.
“This is my birthday celebration,” I said. Thunder crashed, moving the air around us. I felt all grumpy between the eyes. Raindrops splashed around me. Patted my head. Wet my shoulders. Wouldn’t be making any mixes in this all-the-sudden mood. I squinted. Now that I was out of the car, my feet soaked (not just the toes), I could see the blue light was a sign that read OPEN. Water came right up to my ankles.
“That’s right,” Aunt Odie said. “It’s this storm and this girdle that’s getting to me. I’m sorry, sugar.” She sloshed through the yard, splashing me as she came nearer. Rain popped all around us.
No girdle to explain my poutiness. Couldn’t blame the storm. What had descended upon me?
“Love you,” she said. “You know you are my most favorite niece.”
I grinned, my mood almost switching to happiness despite the foul weather. “And about the only one you have.”
Aunt Odie offered me a hug and I took it. Then we walked through the surge that felt cold as the tea we’d been drinking, and up the steps where Aunt Odie plucked two unopened hibiscus flowers from the bushes that fronted the porch. She tucked one behind her ear and motioned for me to do the same. The flower dripped the surge down the side of her face.
I’m not sure she even noticed.