Scratch Read Free

thundered, Sanchez whined in the bathroom. We tried to coax him out of the bathtub with a rawhide bone, and then with a can of food, but he refused to budge.  
    I changed the batteries in Dylan’s flashlight. Then Dylan, Marlena and I huddled together on the couch and waited for the storm to pass. It didn’t. Instead, it grew worse. Each time I thought it had peaked, the storm reached a new and frightening crescendo. I told them both to stay away from the windows and the skylights. It wasn’t like they could see much anyway. Visibility was down to almost nothing. We could see as far as the first few trees in the yard, watching as they swayed back and forth, leaning closer and closer to the house. Beyond them, the world had been swallowed by a wall of black. Rain and hail fell in torrential sheets, almost like a waterfall. The noise of it hitting the vinyl siding and shingles was so loud that we had to shout to hear each other. Lightning crackled overhead, followed by a loud boom as it struck something nearby. Dylan whimpered. Marlena and I both put our arms around him and told him it would be alright. Then we glanced at each other. I felt nervous and apprehensive, and I saw those same emotions mirrored in Marlena’s eyes.  
    With all the noise, talking became futile, and each of us retreated into our own thoughts. My mind wandered. I despaired when I thought about the fruit trees and crown vetch I’d planted along the creek bank just a few weeks before, during the first warm day in March. Chances were they’d be washed away now, especially the crown vetch seed. I thought about some of the bigger trees in the yard, and wondered if they’d hit the house should they fall. Then I tried to remember if I had gas in the chainsaw or not, in case they did fall. It used that stupid oil and gasoline mixture, and no matter how many times I tried, I always mixed it wrong, and the chainsaw would belch out blue clouds of noxious smoke. I thought about the creek and how close the rushing waters could get to us if it breached its banks. I didn’t know if we had flood insurance or not. Marlena was better at handling stuff like that, so I always let her. I considered asking her, but decided that if she wasn’t thinking about it, then there was no reason to worry her even more.  
    Lightning crashed again, and something fell nearby.  
    I stared at my wife and child. Dylan clung to her, his face partially buried beneath her breasts, his eyes wide and fearful. Marlena stroked his hair and leaned close and whispered something that I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, the words seemed to calm him. I suddenly felt a wave of love for them both so strong that its intensity surprised me. Don’t get me wrong. I love them all the time. But we don’t really go through our lives thinking about it every minute, now do we?  
    At that moment, I was.  
    Eventually, there was a lull in the storm. The rain slowed to a steady patter, and the rumbles of thunder grew brief, almost as an afterthought. Sanchez slunk out of the bathroom and hopped up on the couch with us. His tail was still between his legs and his ears hung low. His expression was comical. He looked embarrassed. I scratched his ears and told him that he was a brave dog.  
    Dylan looked up from his mother’s chest and blinked.  
    “Is it over, Daddy?”  
    “Yeah,” I said. “I think it is, almost.”  
    Then the thunder roared again, making a liar out of me.

                   

    The storm stuck around for another few hours, and even after the worst of it had passed, the rain continued, slowing to a drizzle. Marlena and Dylan had fallen asleep. Sanchez slept, too, with his head resting on my leg. Occasionally he stirred, looking up at me with big, mournful eyes, pleading (in that telepathic way that only dogs and cats can), for me to make the thunderstorm go away.  
    “I wish I could, buddy,” I whispered. “I wish I could.”  
    It’s a funny thing, love.