While the rain drummed loudly on the roof and all around the house, Patty looked up from her Stephen King novel and fixed her hazel eyes on me. I stared back without thinking of anything save for Fiona and how on earth she was going to drive the entire forty miles from her parents house in this sudden downpour. Fiona is moderately myopic, meaning she can’t see things clearly from far away. The rain surely isn’t helping things in her case.
“Mr. Amis?” Patty asked tentatively. “Is everything all right?” She began to fiddle with her book, but it looked like she didn’t know she was doing it. “It’s the rain, isn’t it? It’s quite frightening, I know, suddenly coming down like this. Maybe I should go check on Tanner.” She started to get up from her place on the couch.
“Oh, no,” I said hurriedly, gesturing at Patty to remain where she was. “I mean, don’t worry about Tanner. He loves anything and everything about the rain. I was thinking of Fiona. She’s probably on the road right now, driving through this difficult downpour.” I sighed. “You know how bad her eyes are.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Patty said breathlessly, and placed a well-manicured hand to her chest. Instinctively my eyes traveled to where her hand went. My eyes caught sight of a slightly rounded breast that looked small yet pert and firm. The word delectable suddenly came into mind, and just as sudden something stirred inside me.
Don’t be a dirty old man, I told myself quickly, sternly. Get a grip of yourself.
Patty was saying something, but since I was momentarily lost in thought concerning her breast, I didn’t catch what she was saying.
“I’m sorry, I just conked out,” I said apologetically, trying to get a hold on my respectable fatherly persona.
“I said don’t worry about Mrs. Amis,” Patty repeated, her hazel eyes still fixed on me. “She’s probably-”
As if on cue, the phone rang. It was Fiona. The rain had been too much, she said, so she decided to turn around and go back to her parents’ house.
“Of course I’d hurry back home if I could,” Fiona said fretfully. “But you know how my eyes are, and it’s just raining so damn hard-”
“It’s okay, honey,” I said soothingly. “I understand. I was thinking about you, anyway. I was worried how you’re going to get home in this sudden downpour. Well, I’m glad you’ll be staying at your folks for a while. At least you’ll be safe and dry in there.”
Fiona agreed and promised to drive home the second the rain stopped. I told her there’s no need for her to rush as it wouldn’t help to be on the road without a good amount of sleep. She agreed reluctantly but still insisted she would get home as soon as she can. I assured my wife again, and after a few more pleasant exchanges, we said our good-byes and good nights.
I put the phone down. “That was Fiona,” I told Patty. “She won’t be coming home tonight. It’s raining so hard, and she doesn’t think it’s safe for her to be out on the road in this weather.”
Patty nodded. “That makes sense. I’d do the same if I were in her shoes.” She glanced at the clock. “Speaking of, since Mrs. Amis won’t be getting here anyway, I think I’d better go, Mr. Amis. It’s getting late, and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon.” She began to place her things inside her backpack.
“I’d drive you home, of course,” I said. “But like you said, the rain isn’t showing signs of letting up. I don’t think it’s safe for anyone to be out in this weather, especially during the night.” I glanced out the window again. The rain fell harder than ever, and the wind began to howl its way through the trees. I’m a pretty good driver, and I don’t have any problems with my vision, but I would give myself a hard kick on the head if I even thought of going outside in that weather.
And besides, I was beginning to like the idea of being alone with Patty (in the living room, anyway) while the rain continued to rage outside. I made up my mind right then and there.
Patty was zipping up her bag. “That’s nice of you, Mr. Amis. Thanks. But I need to get home. There’s something I need to get done. I’ll walk home, don’t worry.”
I sat beside Patty and placed a hand on her leg. “No one is going home tonight in this weather,” I said firmly.
Patty stiffened visibly, and with my hand on her leg, I felt it too. I had not entertained the idea that she might refuse my advances, because even then, I had always felt she was attracted to me. Not attracted in the sense of good old-fashioned love (remember, I am married and I sincerely love my wife-and yes, Patty has a steady boyfriend), but in the sense of “I’m attracted to you and I’d love to get in your pants” vibe. Patty isn’t a slut, and I’d like to be clear on this. The girl is smart, well read, and polite, but when a person reaches twenty-one, there’s too much hormones going on to think about smarts and politeness.