front room, Sullivan is gone. We have electricity in the house now, no longer using the generator from before, but we only have temporary outlets until the drywall is complete. Within seconds, the weather seems like a faucet from heaven turned on, and the rain intensifies, coating the front window in a sheet of water.
“Think it might be best to wait this out a few minutes,” I suggest as Rita doesn’t have a raincoat or an umbrella. She glances at the window but doesn’t respond to my warning.
“Help me cover this thing.” An early arrival couch doesn’t seem like it should irritate her as much as it does, but I don’t question her mood. We cover the thing, and just as we stand back to inspect our work, the light nearest us goes off.
“What the hell?” I mutter, stalking over to the outlet and pulling the cord from an industrial work lamp. Plugging it back in, I see the electricity is out. The room is pretty dark due to the gloom of the late afternoon and the enclosed space. The sheet of rain coating the window isn’t helping either.
“Now what?” Rita grumbles.
“Bad day at the office, dear?” I jest, and Rita snorts that honking sound she makes. I have to admit the noise is growing on me.
“It’s nothing,” she mutters, and I toss myself down on the newly covered couch. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“I’m not running out in that rain. I’d be drenched before I shut the front door,” I state. Rita glances back at the three-panel window, streaming with a deluge of water. It’s beautiful and alarming.
“We can’t stay here,” Rita snaps.
“Why not?” I question, pulling my phone from my pocket and wondering if I can get cell service. I send a quick text to Nolan, hoping it goes through to him.
“We just can’t,” Rita says, placing her hands on her hips, but her sight drifts to the window once more.
“You go right ahead and leave.”
“I can’t leave you here alone,” she reminds me.
“Afraid I might burn the place down?” I ask, an edge to my voice.
“That isn’t funny,” she remarks, and I have to agree.
“I guess you’re stuck, then. And if you think you’re not, your SUV will be if you try to peel out in this downpour.”
“Ugh.” Rita tosses herself on the opposite end of the couch, which crinkles under her slight weight and the plastic underneath us. I scroll on my phone, finding it won’t power up to data, but I have another idea.
“How about some music?” I don’t wait for her reply before I find my downloads and click a song. Music reminiscent of the 1980s fills the dark living room, and I spring upward.
“What are you doing?” Rita’s voice still holds an edge, but I’m not letting her sour my mood. I start moving to the beat with a little hop left and hop right, kicking out my feet to match. The lyrics begin, and I start to sing along, ignoring Rita as I dance around the room.
“You’re acting like a nut,” Rita says over the music, but her voice holds more humor.
“You wanted to see my moves, so I’m showing you.” Continuing to dance, I turn to her. “Dance with me.”
Rita crosses her arms from her position on the couch. “I don’t dance.”
“Everybody dances,” I tell her, singing with the lyrics and then changing them when the chorus hits. “Rain on me,” I belt out, and Rita laughs.
“Those aren’t the words,” she teases, but I continue singing off-key and ad-libbing the refrain to match our current situation. The song is actually “Take On Me” by A-ha. It’s got a bouncy beat, and my feet match the rhythm.
“Rain on me,” I draw out again, holding out both my hands and wiggling my fingers at Rita, implying she should stand. She waves a hand at me and turns her head, but she can’t fight a grin. I do a spin and slide side to side, holding my hand at my waistline. I love to dance, and I haven’t done it in years. I also want to make Rita smile and wipe away whatever has her in a bad mood. My show carries on until the end of the song, and then I bow. Rita laughs harder and gives me a slow clap.
“Alright.” Reaching out for her hand, I catch one before she claps again and pull her upward. She stumbles into my chest, and I grab her other hand.