The Night Storm

Gigi's house always smells like fake flowers and dusty cotton curtains. I’m kneeling on the back of her sofa watching the tail lights on Mom and Dad's car grow smaller and fade into the darkness.

We don't usually go to Gigi's at night, but Dad pulled me out of bed, still in my pajamas, and said we had to go because the baby is coming.

Mom says the baby is in her belly, which seems scary because, how will it come out? I think the doctor will have to cut it out.

Boom! Thunder shakes the windows, and a few heavy droplets of rain splash against the glass. I watch until their car disappears, and suddenly I imagine our grey sedan plummeting through the night toward the hospital, a lightning spear lights up my parent's strained faces, then the car slides off the road with a screech. Metal crunches, blood splatters. Now I am an orphan.

My chest hurts and goosebumps rise along my arms. I pull a heavy knitted blanket from the arm of the couch and bury myself under it.

"It's okay, it's okay." I whisper to myself.

I hear Gigi's loafers shuffle across the floor. She turns a knob on the radio and grainy music swells from the table to my left.

Gigi falls onto the sofa beside me and I poke my head out from under the blanket. Everything in her house is old. It has faded green carpet and yellow wallpaper, lots of rugs and lacy tablecloths. I can hear the quiet rumble from the dryer down the hall, and smell the soap on her soft, spotted hands.

I tuck in closer to her and lay my head on her lap. As she strokes my hair the tightness in my chest erupts. Tears slide down my cheeks, and my freckled nose begins to run.

"Cry it all out." she says. "Gigi's got you."

She begins to hum along with the radio, rubbing my back and kissing my head.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

I imagine Mom and Dad returning, the new baby cradled in mom's arms. I run and wrap mine around her legs and she looks down at me with disgust.

"We have a new baby now."

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Now I am sobbing. Gigi holds me tighter. The rain is pounding against the sidewalk and the roof. It pours from the drains, making streams in the gutter, but inside a single lamp casts a warm orange glow across the room.

Black bird fly,

Into the light of the dark black night.

I cry and I cry into Gigi’s lap as wind whips around the eaves and howls through a crack in the door, still I am safe and dry in her arms. By the time all the tears have washed out of me the torrent of rain has become a drizzle.

“I miss you Gigi.” I whisper, then sigh heavily and close my eyes.

Blackbird fly,

Blackbird fly…

* * *

The radio is silent when I wake up. Instead of resting in Gigi’s lap I am on the floor, curled up underneath a coffee table. It takes a moment before I realize where I am. I am not in Gigi’s house anymore.

Dad crouches in front of me, holding up the end of a long white doily. My head aches and my cheeks are crusty with dried tears.

“What are you doing under there? It’s time to go home.”

The baby must be born now.

My hip aches from lying on the thin carpet and I blink trying to wash the sleep from my eyes. Exhausted and stiff, I crawl out from under the table and stand up on shaky legs.

“Where’s your other shoe?”

Dad’s face is worn, heavy bags droop under his eyes.

I look around the small living room, still dazed and shrug.

Dad frowns, sweeping an arm under the table and nearby couch. He finds it behind the window curtain and shoves it into my arms.

“Get your shoes on, we’ve got to go home and get to bed. Well,” he amends, “you do. I have to go to work.” He wipes a hand across his face as if that might make up for a lost night of sleep. He’s already wearing his overalls, the greasy ones with his name in squiggly cursive across the breast.

Aunt Doris stands next to Dad. She has a grouchy face with thin lips and a stern eye. I hate it at her house. There is clutter piled everywhere, the tile is cold, and her kitchen smells like beans. She seems happy to see us leave and closes the door quickly behind us.

It’s still dark outside as we walk across the grass toward our car. Crickets chirp in the bushes, and the night air is fresh and clear.

“I dreamed about Gigi.” I tell Dad as I climb into the car and pull the seatbelt over my lap.

He freezes, one hand on the door. “Where did you hear that name?”

I lift my shoulders. “That’s what I always call her. She comes all the time.”

Dad reaches into his pocket and pulls out a faded leather wallet. After rifling through it for a moment he pulls out a tiny square photo.

“Is this Gigi?”

I smile and nod. Gigi is almost as beautiful as Mom.

“I was scared and so Gigi pet my head and sang me a song about a bird.”

Dad’s eyes-stormy green like Gigi’s- are misty.

“Why were you scared?”

I look down at my hands and kick my legs against the back of the driver’s seat. Thump, thump, my heart beats louder and louder.

“Because…” I try not to look him in the eye. “Do you love the baby more than me?”

Dad leans in and wraps his arms around me, kissing my forehead with his scratchy face and I pull him in tighter, my arms around his neck.

“I will always love you.” He whispers. “No matter what. I love you, and Mom, and the baby, and Gigi. I’m so glad she comes to visit you. She loves you too.”

“I know.” I say. I know that better than anything.

On the drive home, as the sky begins to glow a faint purple, dad flicks on the radio.

Blackbird, fly

Blackbird, fly

Into the light of the dark black night.