Thunderstorm

A terrible thunderstorm leaves you without power. When the storm is over you head outside and notice a neighbor heading your way. She's afraid the food in her fridge will go bad, so she's invited you and two other neighbors over for dinner—and it turns out to be one of the most memorable nights of your life.


I sat on the couch with Elvis and Costello at my side. The two of them hadn't stopped mewing since the storm started. No lights, no television, and just me with the cats. Not my idea of a Saturday night but from the last news report I'd caught on the radio, most of the city had lost power. And then the last of my batteries had gone dead, the news report fading into nothingness.

It seemed the lightning had disappeared. Rain hadn't pelted the roof for about twenty minutes. I couldn't be sure with all the clocks out with the power. Deciding I needed to a break from Elvis and Costello's mewing I slid my flops on and started for the door.

The neighborhood looked quiet and ominous. Tree branches were down everywhere. I slipped out the screen door, the fresh smell of rain electric in the air. My neighbors were peeking through their yards as well. I was staring at the charred tree trunk in my front yard when Mrs. Roberts trudged up my driveway.

"You okay over here, dear?" she asked.

"I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight but I'm okay." I didn't like thunderstorms at all.

"Well I have a ton of food in the fridge over here and it's gonna go bad if I don't get it fixed. I am going to fire up the grill. Come on over," she offered.

Usually I would have said no. Mrs. Roberts and I were not exactly neighborly to each other. She hated that Costello could find his way out of the house and into her garden. I'd apologized a dozen times but I had no idea how he kept getting out of the house. She looked frightened though, standing there with her oversized sweater pulled tightly around her frame. Maybe she was afraid of thunderstorms too.

"Sure. That sounds good. Give me a second though." I wasn't exactly sure what one wore to a lights out barbecue at midnight but I wasn't going to wear my robe.

"Just let yourself in the back yard. I'm gonna try and get the tiki lights out of the garage." With that she shuffled back down the driveway and towards her own house. I wondered if she realized the power was still out and lights would do us no good.

Back inside, Costello no where to be seen, I shrugged the robe off and slid into a pair of capris and a sweater. I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and decided I was going to make the best of the night.

When I found my way to Mrs. Roberts back yard I was surprised to see tiki torches lighting a perimeter around the deck. The grill was already smoking to life. Jake, my neighbor in the other direction, was standing over the grill with a beer and a pile of raw steaks waiting for the grill to heat. He waved me into the yard.

"Who knew the old bat could actually be neighborly?" he smiled, voice low as I took the few steps up the patio.

"The old bat can hear too," Mrs. Roberts chimed from somewhere off in the distance. She followed it with a laugh and I wasn't sure what in the world was going on.

I stood by Jake as he put the steaks on the grill. That first puff of smoke, the sizzle of food, that scent of rain in the air was almost enough to make me forget the damage the storm had caused.

"I invited over a few more people. I don't think anyone is going to get any sleep tonight." Mrs. Roberts informed us as she took a seat at the patio table, "When Hank was alive we used to have barbecues every Saturday night. No need to go out and look for a good time when we could have one right here. The whole neighborhood would stop by. Kenny and Bev would bring beer. We'd cook steaks and hamburgers. Phil and Barbara would bring over some fresh veggies from their garden. Did you ever meet Jimmy Lewis? He was always single. Very handsome. He'd play the guitar and get everyone out dancing in the yard."

I found myself listening to her weave this incredible story of how close the neighborhood had been. I listened as she recounted the deaths or moves to nursing homes that had broken up her friendly community. When her husband died, she'd found it hard to leave the house let alone welcome anyone new to the neighborhood.

"Got room for a few more?" Holly's voice echoed in the night and a clap of thunder roared across the western sky.

I watched Mrs. Roberts wipe a tear from her eye, "of course we do."

By the time the food was ready, eight or so steaks cooked to perfection, foil wrapped veggies steamed and tender, Mrs. Roberts back yard was full of neighbors. Lance Fisher and Gary Porter brought a couple cases of beer. Jaimie and Duke brought some ears of corn. Felicia brought yard darts, which somehow became more fun in the half-inch of standing rain water the yard had collected from the storm. Everything but the guitar playing bachelor.

I watched Mrs. Roberts making her way through the crowd, shuffling between neighbors to make sure everyone was getting enough to eat. I settled my focus on the back yard and couldn't believe that at two in the morning, after a devastating storm, the town still dark, our little neighborhood had come to life and come together.