Hurricane

The coffee was cold and the world was coming to the end. Power’s out. I bought a flashlight, but forgot to get batteries. The news called it the Frankenstorm. Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster. So they might as well call the storm Dr. Sandy. Yesterday, I heard someone proclaim the hurricane was caused by Obama. Fiction makes more sense than real life.

I could really use a wand. Call out, “Lumos!” I always pictured the spell to look like a firefly had landed on the wand. I just want to find that book I was reading. I fumble around the darkness. Hit my head on my bedpost. Mother always said I was graceful. Like a three legged ballerina.

Roommate pounds on my door.

“Come to the kitchen now!”

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Stop whatever you are doing, this is more important.”

“Alrighty, I’m coming.” I rubbed my forehead. Felt a bump. That’s going to look good in the morning.

Our hallways were narrow, so it was easy to feel our way through. See a light from the kitchen.

“So you bought candles?” She ignored me. Grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward.

“What?”

“Take a deep breath. Now look inside the room.”

And there was Daniel Radcliffe sitting at our mangled kitchen table.  He was sopping wet. His blazer hung on the doorknob. He had short sleeves. Skinny arms. Had my roommate’s hot pink towel wrapped around his neck. His hair was still wet, tussled and frizzed. He looked up, and flashed a bright, white smile.

“Why hello there.” His voice purred.

“Whaaat.”

He put his palm on the table. Pushed himself up. My roommate shouted “No, the leg is broken!” He didn’t hear her. The table collapsed. He slipped on the puddle under his pants. He fell firmly on his butt.

I gasped. Covered my mouth with my hands. My roommate’s face turned pale. He chuckled. It sounded like a tiny moment of magic.

“Are you alright?” my roommate whispered. I stood there motionless.

“I’m quite alright.”

I reflexively held my hand out for him. He grabbed it. Felt like lightning hit. His hand was ice cold. He pulled himself up. Grunted.

“I’m so sorry! I’ve made a mess of things. Let me help clean up.”

“No, no, we’ve got it,” my roommate insisted. My hand lingered in the air, slightly open. “Come help me!” she said. I leaned over to pick up part of a plate. He leaned in at the same time. We butted heads. “Sorry!” we both exclaimed. Noticed the candle was lying on its side. I went to pick it up. He noticed too, and bent to grab it. His forehead smashed into my nose. “Owww.” My roommate looked like she might die from her restrained laughter. She picked up the candle and put it on the counter.

We all stood up. He was shorter than expected. Held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Daniel, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“My name’s Sarah,” I stammered. Shook his hand too firmly. No one said anything for what seemed like a lifetime. My roommate clapped her hands. “Let’s take this party into the living room.”

“Let’s,” he said. As we walked out, he slipped again. I caught him. He was light. He pulled himself up. Sheepishly hurried into the living room. We followed, silently giggling. Not sure how he found his way. It was pitch black. Heard him yell out. We hurried into the room.

He sat on our cat. The cat clawed his butt. Yelped. Our cat ran out of the room hissing. He eased himself into the chair. We sat on our lumpy sofa. I lit up a couple candles.

“I’m so sorry again. I seem to be breaking everything in your flat.”

“No worries,” I spoke. “Umm, might I ask why you are here?”

“It’s a silly story. I was visiting Emma over in Providence. I was going to fly out of Boston today, but my flight was canceled because of the storm. I booked a hotel, but my driver dropped me off at the wrong address. By the time I figured this out, the storm kicked up. Your roommate was so kind to offer me shelter.”

I thought to myself, “Thank goodness for this hurricane. Also, I need to give her the biggest thank you hug later.”

As I was thinking, Daniel crossed his legs. His foot swept over the table, knocking over the flower vase. It was my mother’s. My mouth fell. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry again!” My roommate knew the vase’s sentimental value. She went in to pick some pieces up. He leaned in and headbutted her too. She glared at him. He took a step back. Tripped over our ottoman. Did a backwards somersault and landed in the litter box. He shot up and he smacked into the overhead awning. He dusted himself off. We both stared at him.

He matter-of-factly stated, “Well, I should be off now.” He promptly walked into the wall. I heard him shuffle down the hall and unlatch the door. Heard the door click shut. Looked around the room. Disaster zone.

I say to my roommate, “Wow. Harry Potter has no game.”