—I SMASHED MY GLASS ON THE BAR BECAUSE I GOT CARRIED AWAY

 

 

 

Hurricane Girl  /  Marcy Dermansky

 

 

 

It was wild, how fast the tides could change.

 

Allison had a tendency to be unkind to herself.

 

Usually, though, it was more awkward to be rude than polite. 

 

“You are fine,” he said.

It was nice, to hear that spoken out loud.

 

Sometimes it was important to not push your luck.

 

Often, it felt like not enough people were nice to her.

 

It was good not to be dead.

 

Allison found herself constantly apologizing to her father, wanting to go back in time.

 

Most people never got to see the insides of their head.

 

Instead, Allison began to cry, because she hated being yelled at.

 

There would be another hurricane. And then another.

 

How was she? How was she? How was she? The easiest answer, of course, was fine.

 

She was going to be one hundred percent soon, but “soon” was open-ended.   

 

A peace had been reached, but it was ridiculous how quickly things had gone off the rails.

 

“It looks like you went away for a second.”

 

Everything would be fine, Allison thought, if she were not required to speak.

 

She had a weakness for pools, the way some people need to pet every dog they see.

 

Nice was not a quality that Allison had properly appreciated in her twenties. Allison was in her thirties now. Too many men had not been nice.

 

There was a look on his face that she did not understand. It might be love, but it seemed more like worry.

 

Strategic lies were a good thing. A kindness.

 

“Not now. Just had brain surgery,” Allison wrote back, which was, fortunately, an excuse for just about everything.

 

Real life sometimes felt too hard.

 

Anyway, she was fine. She still had her health. That was what people liked to say. 

 

She did not want to stop. That was always a risk.