Forcing myself to my feet, I
follow him upstairs and wait for him to finish in the bathroom. When he’s done,
he gives me a half nod before disappearing into the guest bedroom.
I’m too worn out to do
anything but brush my teeth and fall into my own bed. I wonder briefly if he
needs anything like an extra pillow, but if he feels even half as tired as I
am, he’ll be asleep in minutes.
* * *
*
Even in the depth of my
exhaustion-induced sleep, I’m peripherally aware of the thunder rumbling
through the house, accompanied by the soft patter of rain. It’s a nice sound,
and it doesn’t bother me. Not until a yelp from the hallway brings every one of
my senses into crystalline focus. “Motherfucker!”
It didn’t sound like Dad, so
it must be Matt. Throwing off the covers, I move down the hall as fast I dare
in the darkness, my fingers trailing on the walls. The moment I reach the
doorknob to the guest room, I twist and push, flicking on the light with my
other hand.
Matt is sitting up in the bed,
the sheet resting across his waist. His shirtless chest is distracting for only
a moment, because then I notice the wet circle on the sheet around his crotch.
Any worries about standing
in front of him wearing only my briefs are dispelled as I realize what I’m
seeing. I give him a look that must contain at least a portion of my
bewilderment. “Did you… uh, have an exciting dream?”
He seems confused for a
second, his eyes jumping between me, the spot on the bed, and now Dad, who has
just appeared behind me. “No…
hell
no. It’s the roof, you idiot.”
I would be pissed that he
just called me that, but I can’t prevent an explosion of laughter. Dad is
chuckling behind me too, but only until he sees the drips falling from the
ceiling and landing on the sheet over Matt’s crotch.
“Shit,” he growls. “You must
have missed covering something up.”
My good humor is gone in an
instant. I give Dad a sour look. “That means we have to go up on the roof
again. In the rain.”
As if on cue, a roll of
thunder smashes against the house. “In a thunderstorm, you mean,” Matt says,
scowling as he throws the wet covers off himself. The water must have been
dripping on him for a while, because it soaked right through to his briefs. The
front of them are wet, making the already tight fabric stick to him.
I look away before he
catches me watching him again and bolt to my room, my haste completely
unrelated to the water pouring into the house. Closing the bedroom door behind
me, I pull on my shorts and t-shirt that I was wearing only a few hours ago.
They stink, but I don’t care. This is going to suck no matter what I’m wearing.
The rain hammers away at the roof while I get dressed, an incessant reminder of
the water still leaking into the guest bedroom.
“Come on,” Matt calls down
the hall. “It’s getting worse.”
Dad and Matt are already
waiting in the entryway with a tarp, a hammer, and a flashlight when I sprint
down the stairs and through the kitchen. “I took a bucket from the bathroom to
catch the water,” I explain.
“I don’t care about that.”
Dad’s voice is hard. “It’s going to ruin the ceiling if it goes on much longer,
which means hurry up,” he snaps, kicking my shoes toward me. “If you’d tacked
the tarps down right to begin with, this wouldn’t have happened.” I stare at
him, hating that he’s talking to me like this in front of Matt. Not that it’s
unusual, but I don’t want him to hear it.
The three of us bundle out
of the house into the rain and the dark. My first thought is that I can’t even
see the top of the ladder. The second is that the wind and rain are
cold
.
As I grit my teeth through the beginning of a shiver, Dad clicks on the
flashlight and aims it at the ladder. “Be careful.”
“We got this,” Matt says,
taking the hammer from Dad and starting his ascent to the roof. How the hell did
we get ourselves into this?
Leaving the tarp with Dad, I
follow Matt up the ladder, locking my hands carefully over each dripping rung.
I
will not fall
, I repeat to myself. Matt is waiting just beyond the reach of
the flashlight when I pull myself up onto the roof. Everything is so wet that
it freaks me out to even think about walking around. The wind was bad on the
ground, but up here it feels like a hurricane. I can tell Matt is worried too,
because his arms are stretched out and braced against the roof for balance.
No longer on the ground,
it’s easy to see the problem. The area at the top of the ladder where we’re
crouched should have been covered by a tarp. And it
was
when we went
down last night.
“We forgot to secure the
bottom,” he shouts over the thunder and rain. “The wind grabbed it once the
storm started.”
He’s right. The tarp that
covered this section is still held on at the top, but the whole thing has
flipped over to the other side of the roof. We’ll need to drag it back over to
this side and then tack it down at the bottom, making sure we can still get
down the ladder. It would be pretty simple if it was day and the decking was
dry. But right now it’s really hard to see, and the roof is slick.
“I’ll get the tarp,” I yell
back. He nods, still crouched with hammer in hand.
As I climb carefully toward
the peak, I spread my fingers out as much as I can to maintain my grip on the
slippery boards. In the absence of any actual handholds, I’ll take whatever
extra friction I can get. It feels like I’m not getting anywhere, but I keep
moving higher. Dad’s flashlight barely reaches this far, especially with the
rain dispersing the beam.
Peering over the peak, I can
see the tarp that’s supposed to be on my side but instead is currently
providing a double layer of useless protection on the other side. The seconds
tick past as rain pummels me in the face. I’ll have to put myself in a more
precarious position in order to pull the tarp back to this side of the roof,
but I don’t have a choice whether to do this or not. We can’t just let rain
pour into the house all night. Swallowing past my fear, I rise out of my crouch
and grab a hold of the plastic.
Despite losing the
assistance from my hands, my feet manage to keep me upright and stable.
Exhaling a long breath, I begin to pull the tarp back over. As I drag it toward
me, I bundle it up into my arms so I don’t have to keep moving backward. Just a
few feet left and I’ll have the whole wet gob of blue plastic, then I can just
back down the roof with it and we’ll tack it at the bottom. Easy.
The gust that catches me in
the chest isn’t much stronger than the others that have been bandying me
around. But it’s enough. It’s enough that I have to pivot my foot to maintain
my balance. Without any warning, I’m suddenly sliding down the roof decking.
Adrenaline hits my blood in a millisecond, forcing me to experience the coming
seconds in slow motion. Arms and legs splayed, I slip downward on all fours. My
fingers fight to catch a board, a gap in the decking, hell even a nail… please
just let me get a hold on
something
. The inches fly past my face and I’m
not slowing down. In the back of my mind, it registers that someone just
shouted my name. How far am I from the edge? Halfway there? Oh God, I’m
actually going to fall.
A smashing sound
reverberates through the roof decking, but I can’t tell where it came from
– somewhere off to my side maybe. Then my shirt tightens around me,
yanking up on my armpits and my neck. I hear the sound of fabric ripping, but
it only lasts a second and then everything holds. It’s uncomfortable as hell
but I’m not moving anymore.
My heartbeats slam my chest,
and the rain rushes down. Matt tightens his grip on the back of my shirt. “Got
you,” he says. From the ground, the flashlight is pinned on us.
If I hadn’t almost sailed
off the edge a second ago, I might have laughed at how he’s splayed out. Half
lying on his side, he has one hand stretched out holding onto me and the other
wrapped around the hammer with glistening white knuckles. Then it clicks. The
sound I heard was Matt driving the hammer’s claw side into the decking. It’s
probably the only reason he didn’t go right off the edge with me. Also why he’s
still holding onto it like his life depends on it.
“You okay?” he asks, his
expression still filled with worry. More than I would have expected. Regaining
my balance and grip, I tell him he can let go.
If there was anything good
about what just happened, it’s that the tarp came down with me and has more or
less fallen to where it needs to be. Matt waves me down the roof and onto the
ladder, pulling the plastic down with him as he follows me.
Pounding several nails
directly into the bottom of the tarp, he looks back to my dad on the ground and
shrugs. It’s sloppy to tack it down that way, but it will hold until morning.
Dad doesn’t say anything as
we all trudge back in the house, but his face looks like all the blood drained
out of it about five minutes ago. My shirt is soaked through, and true to the
ripping sound I heard, part of the collar has separated from the rest of the
fabric.
“You tore my shirt,” I say
to Matt. He gives me a wry look, and Dad sighs. I was hoping for a laugh, but I
guess they’re still too shaken up about what just happened.
“That was too close,” Dad
says.
I don’t know what he expects
me to say. I didn’t almost-fall on purpose.
When I don’t answer him, he
lets out another long sigh. “I’m going back to bed,” he announces, leaving us
alone in the kitchen. A glance at the microwave clock confirms that it’s almost
one a.m.
“The guest bed is soaked,”
Matt says through a yawn.
“Shit, I didn’t think of
that.” I bite my lip, unsure what to do with him. “There’s… uh, the couch.” He
makes a face. “Or… we could share my bed if you want.” I’m working really hard
to make sure my voice doesn’t sound hopeful.
“Fine, whatever,” he says.
“I’m so tired I can hardly think.”
Yeah, that just about sums
it up.
I don’t bother turning on
the light in my bedroom because we’re already stripping off wet clothes by the
time we get there, leaving a trail down the upstairs hallway. I push a pillow
in his direction as I take the outside of the bed, making sure to be as far
over as possible. The bed is only a full, so it’s a bit of a squeeze.
The subdued sound of
breathing is the only way I’d know someone else is here with me, because we’re
not touching anywhere. Now in the silence and the dark, the gravity of what
almost happened finally hits me. If it wasn’t for Matt…
Ignoring the creeping chill
that’s only partially from having been out in the cold rain, I whisper,
“Thanks. For catching me.”
He’s quiet so long that I
start to wonder if he’s already asleep. “You scared the shit out of me,” he
admits.
I hesitate. “I’m sorry.”
He turns onto his back, and
his elbow brushes against mine. “You didn’t get hurt. That’s what matters.”
My heart misses a beat, even
though I know I shouldn’t read into what he’s just said. “Weren’t you worried
that I’d drag you off the roof with me?”
The covers rustle beside me.
“Didn’t have time to think about it.”
I let his words roll around in
my head, unsure what to think of them. He definitely risked himself to save me
from going over the edge, but even after the limited time I’ve spent with him,
I know it’s silly to be getting my hopes up. He’s just a nice guy, trying to be
understanding of my awkward stares and comments.
His voice touches the
darkness once more. “Does your Dad always treat you like that?”
“Not really.”
But often
enough.
I don’t want to tell him that, though, because I don’t need him
feeling sorry for me or anything. Dad is all I’ve got.
“That sucks. I’m sorry,
man,” he says.
After that, we’re both quiet
– me because I refuse to confirm that he saw through my lie, and Matt
because he’s probably afraid to push the subject any further. It’s better that
way, because talking about stuff like that never helps anything.
Despite the thoughts that
refuse to settle down, the night eventually drags me toward sleep, just as it
did with Matt a while ago.
* * *
*
Matt isn’t beside me when I
wake up the next morning. Considering our middle of the night escapade, I don’t
feel all that terrible. After pulling on a ratty pair of shorts and a t-shirt,
I meander downstairs to find Dad and Matt at the table drinking coffee.
“Morning, son.”
I nod vaguely in his
direction and beeline for the coffee pot. When I was younger, Dad didn’t really
like me drinking it, and I still get all fidgety whenever I do, but this
morning I could really use the caffeinated assistance. I’m glad Dad doesn’t
hassle me about it today, especially because Matt is here.
After a few sips, I’m awake
enough to realize how hungry I am. Setting a pair of bowls, a gallon jug of
milk, and a box of corn flakes on the table, I join them at the table.