The Love Sucks Club(77)

Heading outside to pull the hurricane shutters across the glass doors to the deck, I do a quick sweep to make sure there isn’t anything left outside. Oh crap. I forgot about the little setup I have on the other side of the lawn, in the grass. I don’t know why it’s there. I rarely sit anywhere except on the deck. Still, every once in a while when I’m working in the yard, it’s nice to collapse into my huge Adirondack chairs and survey my handiwork. The stairs from the deck come out on the far side of the lawn from my little setup down below, so I’ll have to cart this stuff all the way around the house. Grinning at the perfect blue sky, I run around the house to grab the first chair. By the time I manage to wrestle it around to the door, Roxanne is standing in my yard.

“Need help?”

Holding out my hand, I show her the place where I gave myself a massive splinter.

“I could use some help.”

She takes my hand and looks at the cut. “We should disinfect this.”

“Let’s get the stuff in first.”

Having a second person changes the task from an unpleasant one into a relatively simple one. Together, we bring both chairs and the little table around to the door and into the living room. Back outside, we walk the perimeter slowly, checking for any loose objects that could become projectiles during the storm. Giving it the all clear, I head back into the house to make another pot of coffee.

Roxanne, who looks kind of adorable in plaid shorts and an extremely clean t-shirt, smiles as she hands me a mug to fill for her. “So, are you completely set now?”

“I think I am. I’m stocked on canned food. The bathtub is filled with water.”

Gesturing to the row of gallon jugs along the floor of the kitchen, I nod at her smugly. “Got my drinking water all separated from my non-potable water.”

“Ooh, you are the hurricane whisperer.”

“Yep. Rechargeable flashlights, a crank radio, battery powered fans and lights, and several board games.”

“Got your chain saws prepared?”

“Of course. Two gas-powered chain saws in case we need ‘em to get down the road after the storm.”

“Well, let’s just see to your injury and you really will be set.”

After I wash my hands, Roxanne pours some hydrogen peroxide on the small hole where the splinter was. I’m gratified to watch it bubble and foam for a few seconds before she covers it with a band-aid. “I love hydrogen peroxide,” I say.

“I always heard that if it bubbles, that means there’s an infection.”

“Uh, actually, that’s the liquid mixing with your cells, both healthy and damaged. Hydrogen peroxide kills bacteria, but it can also kill healthy skin cells which can actually slow healing and increase the likelihood of scarring.”

Still holding my hand out in front of her, Roxanne glares at me. “Then why did you let me put it on you?”

I can’t help laughing. She just looks so indignant. “Oh come on, Rox. It was a splinter. I don’t think I have to worry about gangrene. Besides, I like watching it fizz as it eats away my skin cells.”

She laughs, too. Dropping my hand, she smacks me on the shoulder. “Fine then. Get your damaged cells away from me.”

“Do you need help over at your place?”

“I could. I brought in any plants that were in pots and tubs. The others will either make it or not. Already got all of my furniture in, but I haven’t put up my storm shutters yet.”

Roxanne has heavy wooden storm shutters that latch with giant metal latches that look like something from a medieval dungeon. They’re actually kind of gorgeous, but they’re huge and heavy and it’s definitely a two person job.

“Why didn’t you call me to come help you?”

“I figured I would find you outside taking care of your own place and I could help you in exchange for your help.”

“Tit for tat?”

Grinning, she shakes her head. “No, just the storm shutters for the furniture moving.”

“A girl can try.”

We walk over to her house hand in hand. The day is so beautiful, it’s almost impossible to believe that it will erupt into a violent storm in the next twelve hours or so. At Roxanne’s house, I grab her ladder and carry it to each window to fasten the latches. One of the shutters has stuck to the side of the house, so I have to schlep back to my house for some tools to pry it from that latch and refasten it to the next one. While I’m gone, Roxanne makes a cup of tea and hands it to me on my return. Standing close to her, I take the tea, and look down into her eyes. “Thank you,” I say, moving closer.

She backs away, laughing. “Are you trying to be seductive over tea? It might be easier if we weren’t both so dirty and sweaty.”