Flash Flood

The wind twisted Keisha’s hair up and over and up again, tying it into little knots, and the sea breeze felt sticky on her cheeks. Thinking about all the detangler she’d have to use before bed, she picked up the last stack of dirty dishes and walked inside.

Moon’s Fish and Chips was always empty at that hour. The sun would set after five, and being the tiny shack that it was, Moon’s didn’t have central heating. This didn’t make for an ideal dining experience in the colder months. Keisha came in shivering and dumped the plates into her bus tub. She saw David hunched over the crummy space heater in the corner.

“I can see your breath,” he said. Keisha smirked and lifted her chin, exhaling like a dragon. A large, white cloud drifted up and away, sparkling under the fluorescent lights. David laughed.

“This is borderline abuse, isn’t it?” he asked, rubbing his hands together. “Do you think we’d get worker’s comp for frostbite?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t think they give worker's comp to under-the-table fish fryers.”

“Fair enough.”

He was right to be upset. For all the time and effort Keisha put into Moon’s, working nine-hour shifts and covering weekends, the least her boss could do was keep them from freezing to death. She’d even settle for a second space heater.

She went into the bathroom and ran the hot water, dragging her fingers through it slowly as it heated. Scanning her face in the mirror, she sighed. She looked tired—more so than usual. Her curly black hair was twice its normal size, sticking up in the front at an odd angle, and her eyes were sunken and half-lidded.

It had been a difficult month. The ins and outs of her daily routine were starting to bore her, and even though it was nearly impossible to admit out loud, she felt sad. Maybe even depressed. Each day, she slept for nearly 10 hours, ate crappy food, went to work, waited tables, wiped up crusty old rice and red onions, went home, and started again the next morning. The monotony was exhausting.

She was struggling, and she knew it—but she couldn’t quite figure out what to do next. Sleep, which came to her easily, was her go-to coping mechanism for the time being. And she couldn’t wait to get home.

David knocked on the door, startling Keisha out of her trance. She jumped, bashing her hand against the faucet and wincing in pain.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said after clearing his throat.

Keisha switched off the tap and wiped her hands with a paper towel, carefully avoiding the reddening bump on her knuckle. She adjusted her apron and opened the door.

“It’s okay. I was just washing up. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a problem. Severe weather warning.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

David pulled out his phone to show Keisha the message. EMERGENCY ALERT: Flash Flood Warning issued in this area until 9:00 PM EST. Keisha brought her hands up to cover her face. Sometimes she thought that God was working against her.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine,” David said. “We probably shouldn’t go home yet, though. Don’t want to get swept into the ocean or something.” He cracked a wide smile, but Keisha couldn’t return it. David glanced down at her hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked, brow furrowed. He reached out to grab her hand and inspect it, but before he caught it, they locked eyes. Keisha felt her stomach twist.

“I’m fine, David. Thank you.” She tugged her sleeve over her knuckles and headed into the dining room.

Keisha stared out the single-paned window into the flurry of whipping rain and fog. Unbelievable. Of all days, the Oregon coast had to throw its unpredictable weather in her face when she was feeling low—and freezing cold.

David was laying on the floor in front of the heater, holding his phone above his head and scrolling idly. Keisha sat down in the nearest booth and pulled her phone out. Two percent battery remaining. She didn't even have the energy to be angry.

In defeat, she rested her head on the table, curling into herself for some semblance of warmth. Maybe she could just sleep there until the flash flood warning lifted—not that she'd even know, considering her phone was nearly dead.

"Are you sure you don't want to join me? It's pretty cozy down here," David said, craning his neck to look at her from his place on the unswept floor.

"Will you stop asking, please? I'm sure," Keisha said, her voice muffled beneath her jacket sleeves.

David sat up.

"Are you okay, Keisha? You've been acting kind of weird today."

"I'm fine."

A soft smile spread across David's lips. "My mom's a therapist. I am not falling for that."

Keisha laughed into her arms, slightly amused. She peeked out of her hovel.

"I didn't know that," she said.

"Really? I'm surprised I haven't mentioned it."

"Does that mean you've been secretly diagnosing me all these years?"

"Absolutely not. My mom doesn't share her tricks. If she did, I'd know when she's diagnosing me." They both laughed. "All I know is that 'I'm fine' usually doesn't mean 'I'm fine.'"

Keisha brushed her tangled hair out of her eyes, still laughing. "Yeah, well, I guess I've been finer."

David didn't laugh. He scanned her face carefully, trying to determine something—she didn't know what. Feeling her cheeks turn pink, Keisha looked down.

"Want to help me look for some stuff to keep us warm?" David said.

"Might as well. I think we're going to be here for a while."

David came back with a ratty old blanket, a green puff jacket from the lost and found, and a few bags of oyster crackers. Keisha brought a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. David laid the blanket out in front of the space heater, covering up the splinters and bits of old french fries, and he handed Keisha the jacket. She gladly accepted.

"You know, I don't think we've ever just sat together, you and me. It's kind of—"

"Weird?" Keisha interjected.

"Nice, actually."

They both smiled.

"Merlot, huh?"

"I mean, technically it'll keep us warm—and don't worry. I'll put a few bucks in the register."

"No, let me," David offered. He scratched his head and smiled. "Merlot is my favorite."

"Mine too."

They sat in silence for a long while, listening to the rain patter on the windows, taking small, wine-connoisseur-type sips of the cooking Merlot. Streaks of light and shadow rested on David's soft face, and guessing from the dark bags under his eyes, he was getting tired.

"How are you feeling?" Keisha asked, close to a whisper.

David stared down at his wine, swirling it gently in his hand. He looked up to meet her gaze and smiled a big, dumb smile.

"Good. Really good."

Keisha smiled too—if not a bit sadly. She hadn't felt really good in a long time. And to feel really good on a night like this? She was jealous. Sleep clearly wasn't doing all the healing work she thought it was. She took another sip of her Merlot.

David reached out for her hand. This time, Keisha let him take it.

"What happened here?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over the bump, which was already turning purple. Keisha nearly spit out her drink.

"I smacked it on the faucet, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me? When I knocked on the door?"

Keisha nodded, and David scanned her face again, still caressing her hand. Keisha bit her tongue, finally out of her head enough to realize what was going on. David liked her. Clearly. How she could have missed it, she didn't know.

And she liked him too. Her stomach twisted again.

"You can make it up to me," she said. This time, his cheeks flushed.

"How?"

"Kiss me."

With hot, stuffy air blowing on their faces and oyster crackers scattered around the floor, David kissed her. He kissed her for a long time, like he'd been waiting to kiss her for many years, working alongside her but never once finding the opportunity. His hand got stuck in her salty hair, and they laughed, and then they kissed again.

"I think you should meet my mom," David said, breathless, still holding Keisha's waist.

"Coming on a little strong, don't you think?"

"For therapy, I mean. Sorry. She's really good. But if that's weird, she has dozens of therapist friends who are amazing at what they do. I've met with a few of them."

"You have?"

David nodded.

Keisha grabbed her glass and tossed the rest of the Merlot down her throat. She breathed one of those breaths that clears out the bottom of your lungs.

"Okay."

"What the heck, right?" David responded, clearly thrilled. He traced small circles on Keisha's back.

"What the heck."

She couldn't tell if it was the Merlot, the kiss, or the new, small seed of hope planted in her chest, but she felt really good.