beautiful little towns along the Keys.
Other cars also rushing from the Keys pass us, dangerously close.
"I'm an idiot," Jack says. "Putting you through this."
"You said it, I didn't." I lean over to kiss his cheek. "But you're my idiot and I still love you. Besides, how could you know the winds would shift?" I pretend to put a good face on it. "Isn't this exciting?"
Jack is glum. "Not the kind of excitement I had in mind."
"All is not lost. I've learned a lot of new things about you, Mr. Navy Man. Stubborn. Opinionated. Risk-taker . . ."
Jack cringes. "Don't say another word. And what I've learned about you is that you're loyal, though foolishly so, and brave."
I don't want to ruin his opinion of me so I don't contradict him.
I peer out, barely able to see from one side of the very narrow causeway to the other, thinking grim thoughts. To the left of us, all of the Gulf of Mexico. To the right, the entire Atlantic Ocean. Water lapping hard on both sides reaching out to connect in the middle. Coming closer and closer to our car. Eager to have at us and suck us in. Forever.
"Brave" me, hiding my eyes with sunglasses, shuts them and keeps them that way for most of the ride home.
15
Getting Ready
I t takes us nearly five hours to make it back to
Fort Lauderdale. The farther north we go, the less ominous the weather, but no doubt there's a real hurricane chasing our tail. Everywhere we look the escalating wind is heaving debris, forming bizarre kites in the sky.
Drivers on the road rigidly lean forward into their steering wheels, clutching them with all their strength. They're a study in fear. Everyone is speeding home or in any direction that might get them out of town as fast as possible. Their vehicles are rolling from side to side. Already, small-weight cars have overturned, some blown onto the shoulder. Jack's car radio repeats the same announcements over and over. The Atlantic Hurricane Center reports that as of four-thirty p.m., the storm has intensified, and that now the east coast of Florida is in severe danger. Ocean waves at Miami Beach were kicked up by the Category Four storm. Winds are gusting at 160 miles an hour. By now the expensive beach hotels had been evacuated. The waves had already destroyed five houses and damaged ten others. So far, the hotels are still standing. The news comes at us at a staccato beat, breaking up occasionally, but the message is loud and clear: Fort Lauderdale will be next, hit hard with a hurricane for the first time ever.
When we finally pull into Lanai Gardens, exhausted, we see more of the same. People driving out and away; others boarding up windows or scurrying to and fro with last-minute preparations. For the first time I'm sure everyone wishes we'd put up hurricane shutters. But in all these years we never needed them.
Jack parks the car in front of my building. It's a parking spot belonging to someone else, but this is no time to worry about the rules. As we get out I hear someone cry, "They're back, thank God!"
I look up to see Ida, hands clutching a jacket to her chest and neck, her hair bun unruly. Perched on our landing, she frantically waves at us. We hurry upstairs, not bothering to use the elevator, heads bowed, the wind pushing at our backs.
Ida throws her arms around me. "We didn't think we'd ever see you again. They expect Key West to be hit in a few hours!" I think of the lovely Ms. LeYung and hope she gets out in time.
Ida pulls us into my apartment.
What a sight before us. Every light in the apartment is on. My highboy, the tallest piece of furniture I own, has been pushed against my living room windows. The rest of the windows were obviously hurriedly boarded up. Denny is finishing up last-minute hammering. His girlfriend, Yolie, acting as his assistant, is handing him nails. My floors are covered with mattresses and sleeping bags. The couch and chairs are circled in and around
Other cars also rushing from the Keys pass us, dangerously close.
"I'm an idiot," Jack says. "Putting you through this."
"You said it, I didn't." I lean over to kiss his cheek. "But you're my idiot and I still love you. Besides, how could you know the winds would shift?" I pretend to put a good face on it. "Isn't this exciting?"
Jack is glum. "Not the kind of excitement I had in mind."
"All is not lost. I've learned a lot of new things about you, Mr. Navy Man. Stubborn. Opinionated. Risk-taker . . ."
Jack cringes. "Don't say another word. And what I've learned about you is that you're loyal, though foolishly so, and brave."
I don't want to ruin his opinion of me so I don't contradict him.
I peer out, barely able to see from one side of the very narrow causeway to the other, thinking grim thoughts. To the left of us, all of the Gulf of Mexico. To the right, the entire Atlantic Ocean. Water lapping hard on both sides reaching out to connect in the middle. Coming closer and closer to our car. Eager to have at us and suck us in. Forever.
"Brave" me, hiding my eyes with sunglasses, shuts them and keeps them that way for most of the ride home.
15
Getting Ready
I t takes us nearly five hours to make it back to
Fort Lauderdale. The farther north we go, the less ominous the weather, but no doubt there's a real hurricane chasing our tail. Everywhere we look the escalating wind is heaving debris, forming bizarre kites in the sky.
Drivers on the road rigidly lean forward into their steering wheels, clutching them with all their strength. They're a study in fear. Everyone is speeding home or in any direction that might get them out of town as fast as possible. Their vehicles are rolling from side to side. Already, small-weight cars have overturned, some blown onto the shoulder. Jack's car radio repeats the same announcements over and over. The Atlantic Hurricane Center reports that as of four-thirty p.m., the storm has intensified, and that now the east coast of Florida is in severe danger. Ocean waves at Miami Beach were kicked up by the Category Four storm. Winds are gusting at 160 miles an hour. By now the expensive beach hotels had been evacuated. The waves had already destroyed five houses and damaged ten others. So far, the hotels are still standing. The news comes at us at a staccato beat, breaking up occasionally, but the message is loud and clear: Fort Lauderdale will be next, hit hard with a hurricane for the first time ever.
When we finally pull into Lanai Gardens, exhausted, we see more of the same. People driving out and away; others boarding up windows or scurrying to and fro with last-minute preparations. For the first time I'm sure everyone wishes we'd put up hurricane shutters. But in all these years we never needed them.
Jack parks the car in front of my building. It's a parking spot belonging to someone else, but this is no time to worry about the rules. As we get out I hear someone cry, "They're back, thank God!"
I look up to see Ida, hands clutching a jacket to her chest and neck, her hair bun unruly. Perched on our landing, she frantically waves at us. We hurry upstairs, not bothering to use the elevator, heads bowed, the wind pushing at our backs.
Ida throws her arms around me. "We didn't think we'd ever see you again. They expect Key West to be hit in a few hours!" I think of the lovely Ms. LeYung and hope she gets out in time.
Ida pulls us into my apartment.
What a sight before us. Every light in the apartment is on. My highboy, the tallest piece of furniture I own, has been pushed against my living room windows. The rest of the windows were obviously hurriedly boarded up. Denny is finishing up last-minute hammering. His girlfriend, Yolie, acting as his assistant, is handing him nails. My floors are covered with mattresses and sleeping bags. The couch and chairs are circled in and around
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