May

He stood in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand. It was still too hot to drink so he stood staring out the window over the sink, watching storm clouds form off in the distance. The wind was picking up and he watched as the leaves from the big oak tree in the front yard were ripped off and blown violently away. He took a sip of his coffee. It was still too hot to drink.
The phone rang. He placed the cup down next to the sink and walked over to the wall where the only phone in the house could be found. He let it ring three more times before he picked it up off its cradle. He didn’t speak. There was static, the sound of heavy breathing and then a voice. “Hello? John?” He sighed.
“Hello, May. Where are you?”
“At a gas station. A Shell I think.”
“You’re at a pay phone?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Not a pay phone. I’m on the phone inside. The owner said I could use it,” she said. “The phone in his office I mean.”
“Why would he let you do that?”
“I said it was an emergency. Not any kind of life threatening emergency, just that I had left the oven on at home and I needed to call a neighbor to get them to turn it off,” she said. “He’s a very nice man, John. He has blue eyes like my father did.”
“How long do you have then?”
She laughed. “How long for what?”
“How long before he wants his office back?”
“Oh. Well I locked the door, so he can’t get in,” She paused and waited for John to respond. “It’s a big door, John. One of those compressed fireproof ones. He could bang on that all day long with an axe and barely put a scratch in it.”
John walked back to the kitchen counter and picked up his coffee mug. “Are you coming back? Hello? May?”
There was another burst of static and muffled banging. John tried again. There was more static and then, clarity.
“John? Are you still there?” she asked.
“Yes. Yes I’m still here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about this, I really am. There’s a storm here and it’s really messing with the connection… all that terrible static! And then the owner needed to get into his office to get some paper or something, but I had locked the door like I said-”
“May, are you coming back? Are you coming home?”
“Well, yes,” she said. “I mean, no. No, I’m not coming back, at least not right away. I’ll come back soon, I promise, it’s just this storm is so bad… it’s all thunder and lightning and not even a little bit of peace in between the two! You know how much I hate thunder, John. I can’t drive home in this, I just can’t!”
John grunted and anxiously rubbed his chin. “I don’t understand why you left to begin with May. You knew a storm was coming. You knew it was going to be bad and you still jumped in your car and drove off. I know you hate storms May, but I don’t understand. What kind of person drives into something they hate?” John waited for a sign that she had heard him, but she was silent. Somewhere in between his eyes a throbbing pain blossomed. He gripped the edge of the counter and waited for the headache to pass. “Listen, May, can you give me a second?” There was no response. He placed the phone on the tiled countertop ran his fingers through his hair.
John closed his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. It was still too hot. He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. He placed the mug on the table and then pinched the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to crush his headache and leaned back in the chair, his body arcing haphazardly to the floor. The chair groaned under his weight and for a moment he thought it would snap. He sat like that until his back began to hurt. He looked out at the sky and saw that the storm was moving quickly. It’ll be here soon enough, he thought, and then where will she go? He stood back up and walked back to where he had placed the phone. He picked it up. “May?” His voice was hoarse and thick. “May, are you still there?” He coughed into the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Look, I’m sorry May. I didn’t mean it like it came out. Listen… are you there? May?”
She spoke. She sounded muffled and distant, but it was unmistakably her voice. “Yes John, I’m here and I heard you,” she said. “And you’re right, you know. What kind of person drives out into something they hate? I don’t know, John. I really don’t know what kind of person does that. I do that though. I do that every day of my goddamn life. I do it with you, I did it with her, I’m doing it now,” she said. “So I guess I don’t know what kind of person I am. I wish I did. I mean, I wish I knew what kind of person does that.”
“May, what are you talking about?” he asked.
“I don’t know… I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I love you John, I do,” she said. “And I loved her. I loved her so much.”
“Aw, hell May…”
“I’m sorry John. I don’t mean to say things like that. It’s this weather. I just hate this weather,” she said.
“It’s all right May, really it is.”
“No it isn’t! Do you know why I hate thunder, John? Do you know why?”
“No May, no you’ve never really said why.”
“It’s because you can’t hide from it! If I was afraid of lightning then at least then I could hide in a basement, somewhere without windows and lock myself away. I wouldn’t ever see it there! I wouldn’t even know it was happening if I was there! But thunder is something you can’t hide from. You can’t see thunder, but you can hear it, and you can’t hide in a basement from that!”
“You could stuff your ears with cotton or-”
“No! No you couldn’t! You could be the deafest man in the entire world and still feel thunder! It cuts though you like cannon shot and lets you know that it is there and it will always be there and that you can never, ever hide from it!” She was gasping for breath in between sobs. There was a banging and May shouted at someone. John walked to the kitchen table and picked up the mug of coffee. He took a gulp and the lukewarm liquid splashed uncomfortably in his stomach. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day.
“May? May listen, I want you to relax, all right? I want you to relax and stop crying. Can you do that? May?” She coughed and choked on a sob. Her breathing began to slow and she exhaled loudly. “John. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about all this.” He laughed. “May, it’s all right. Everyone gets a little overwhelmed sometimes.”
“No John, no it isn’t that. I’m not sorry about that at all,” she said.
“Then what, May?” he asked.
She sighed. “It was raining that night wasn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was raining,” she said. “I remember it was raining.”
“I don’t want to talk about this, May,” he said. “Come home.”
“You’ve never had a problem with sleeping through the rain.” He took a gulp of his coffee. It was cold and bitter.
“You never have. I couldn’t sleep that night… I was so tired! I was so tired, John, and I couldn’t fall asleep. I was just waiting for the thunder to come, all night waiting for the thunder to come. I couldn’t sleep and so I climbed out of bed and went into her room,” she said. “Do you remember me leaving?”
“No, May. I didn’t wake up.”
“I suppose I knew that… but anyway, I went into her room, and the window was open. Rain was coming in, not a lot, but it was coming in and the room was so cold.” she said. “She was asleep though. Even with the thunder and the rain and she was asleep.”
“Come home, May. Just come home and we can talk about this, all right?”
“I can’t come home, John. Don’t you get it now? I can’t come home.”
The telephone was heavy in his hand. “So what now, May? What now?”
“I’m so sorry, John. I’m so sorry. I’ve got to go now.”
“Where are you going?”
“There’s a field outside, right across the way from the Shell station. I think I’m going to go out there and wait,” she said.
“I think that’s a good idea, May. I think that’s a very good idea.” He hung up the phone.
The kitchen was silent and empty. He picked up the cold coffee, went over to the sink and poured it down the drain. He looked out the window and saw that it was beginning to rain. He went to the refrigerator and looked inside. He wasn’t hungry, but he grabbed a pickle from a jar and bit into it. It was cold and tart and he realized with a sudden jolt of adrenaline that he was going to be sick. He lurched over to the sink and threw up what little there was in his stomach. He wiped his mouth on a hand rag and let it drop to the floor. Rain was gently tapping on the window. He turned and left the kitchen. He trudged slowly up the steep stairs of his house and walked through the first door on the left. The large bed in the middle of the room was unmade and a pile of dirty clothes lay in a corner.
He turned and walked across the hall and into another room. The floor was dusty and the air smelled a little like mothballs and talcum powder. There was a crib on one side of the room, and he went over to it and looked down. It was empty with the exception of a small embroidered pillow and a stuffed owl. He grabbed the pillow and laid down next to the crib. The hardwood floor was cold and uncomfortable. He placed the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.