Waiting for the storm to pass

With a nasty jolt that pained her aching muscles, the mini pulled itself onto the dusty drive and the woman gave a sigh of relief.

“What is it now?” her partner snapped.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of answering �" it would only start another round of bickering �" so instead she turned and opened the car door. The heat and humidity slapped her face and for a second she was startled into wakefulness before the moist air became oppressive and every breath felt flooded with water; it was unbearable. She met her boyfriend by the boot and together, in silence, they carried their bags onto the porch of the little white house. Finally, only one bag remained.

She reached for it, “Don’t worry,” he shoved in front of her. “You’d only do it wrong anyway.”

She ground her teeth together as he stumbled to the door.

“But don’t use that as an excuse not to help!” he called back in a warning.

She forced control into her voice, “I didn’t. You did.”

No answer.

With an angry puff of air, the woman stalked forward, trying to work out how the atmosphere between them became so tense and charged.

“You ready?” he said, a grin lighting up his face.

“We’re all set with three days’ worth of spam and beans; we’re ready to go!” she enthusiastically answered.

The sun was becoming less and less visible by the second, as if cowering from the monstrous clouds, which were writing within themselves with rate. The sea swirled threateningly in response, slapping up against the ragged cliffs fencing it in.

He frowned, “Look at this traffic! We have a schedule to meet.”

“You and your schedules…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stopped walking; her fists shook and her nails were carving patterns in her flesh.

“Don’t use that as an excuse not to help!”

She hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You’d only do it wrong.”

It had started to drizzle, pitter-pattering as each droplet hit the leaves in the trees and the grass below her. She watched him turn and with an unmasked eye roll, he stomped back to her.

“This is no time to play games,” he scolded her. “Now come inside.”

All control was gone, “Why don’t you try and make me!”

The clouds burst and a waterfall pelted down onto the quarrelling couple as the sea and sky plunged into war.

Crack! Lightening spilt the sky in two, like a zigzag line through a broken heart. The thunder’s manly roar drowned out the couple’s tempestuous yelling �" it didn't make the argument any less furious. Carefully, the foamy, turbulent waves sloshed back for a moment, feigning retreat, before it threw itself forward, using the jagged cliffs to launch itself against the clouds, before the fruitless attempt splattered back down to earth.

At last, her partner convinced her to go inside.

They stepped through the front door, sodden and freezing, slightly frazzled by the change in environment. The house was cosy and, once she had taken off her waterlogged shoes, the carpet was snug beneath her feet. A moment of silence pressed on their ears before he playfully bumped her shoulder and she cracked a smile as she bumped him back. Then, before she could register and movement, his arms were around her while she clung to his neck and she realised: the sun wasn't cowering. It was merely waiting for the storm to pass.

Slowly, step by step, they began to waltz, which became the tango, which evolved into the cha-cha-cha. Her hair flew around, throwing of beads of water in all directions, meanwhile, her soggy skirt swished from side to side as she moved her body. It stuck to her legs with the most amusing squishy sounds, which caused a bubbling laugh.

With a smile, she broke away to check the cupboards for dinner, “They’re all empty,” she informed him.

“Don’t worry,” he said and, with a cheeky smile, he held out two tins, “I have spam and beans.”