Charlotte was standing on the front porch, looking at the front door of her Charleston-style house in the middle of a hurricane. She thought to herself that the door needed to be repainted, its once-powerful green, was now dull and lifeless. The air around her was heavy. The heaviness indicating that the storm was not yet over. The sky was still black and the air smelled of seawater with a hint of aggression. The calm was ending. The rain from the oncoming hurricane sprinkled the street in front of where she stood on her porch, though some managed to find a way under the roof and splash Charlotte with a warm mist. Where the sleeves of her shirt stopped and exposed her pale, rosy skin, she felt the cool air. She wasn’t cold, but the approaching hurricane made her uneasy and the mist of rain left a blanket of chill across her arms. She regretted forgetting a jacket when she had furiously walked out of the house moments before. The argument was lasting too long and she needed a break. The cold, however, was merely an inconvenience. Her body was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold or the nerves. The foreboding hurricane was only an addition to the issues she was already having. She suddenly remembered what had brought her out there.
She turned and rested her back against the cold metal of the door, allowing the mist to wrap itself around her face. She didn’t care if she got wet. She ripped the cigarette packet from the back pocket of her tight jeans, struggling to pull them out in one attempt. She failed. The thin paper of the packet ripped between her unfeeling fingers. There was only one left. She lit the lone cigarette quickly, not bothering to subdue her urges. She had been trying to quit, but she would have to stop tomorrow. The paper felt familiar against her lips, though nothing else did. She looked at the large oak across the street. In the creeping darkness of the storm, it looked like an alien ship. Everything was silent except for the sound of rain falling on the tin rooves and the pavement. The birds had gone. The cicadas no longer hummed their irritating hum. The geese no longer honked. There was no one out walking their dogs as her neighbors would have normally done at 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Nothing was right. Nothing else in her life felt familiar, anymore. She thought about her life behind that door.
She thought about the man in there. The man who had deceived her. A bolt of lightning flashed, sending a momentary spark of terror through Charlotte. She calmed herself with a deep inhale. The warm smoke soaked into her lungs. The feeling instantly radiated through her nerves, calming her shaking fingertips. The nicotine rushed to her head, releasing her from her anger and sadness for just a moment before the gray ash dropped to the ground beside her bare feet. The escape the cigarette had brought her had quickly faded. Nothing could keep the pain out. Lightning flashed again. This time, the thunder growled almost instantly after. The sound rippled through the neighborhood, shanking the old oak in front of her. Charlotte stayed still, unaffected by the godly force of the winds or the intimidating sound of the thunder. She liked being outside in danger much more than she liked being indoors with him.
She brought the cigarette to her lips once more, but this time the taste was sour and harsh. The ring of red ember had reached the filter. Charlotte sighed and smashed the cigarette against the door behind her until she felt it crumble in her palm. Her back slid down the door, her brown hair getting stuck in the cracked surface of the paint. She couldn't bring herself to feel anything. Not fear. Not hatred. Not sadness. Her mind was numb. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door. She could hear him stomping on the other side, pacing like he always did when he was angry. The sound of his footsteps matched the rhythm of the rain. His fists against the walls boomed like the thunder. Though it could wipe out the entire state, the storm seemed kinder than the man behind the door.
The rain began to fall faster and the lightning began to strike closer. Charlotte didn’t know how long she had stayed in that position, maybe an hour, maybe a few hours. She didn’t care. She watched as the storm swirled and spiraled around the trees and houses. She watched the moss holding onto the branches, praying they would not fall victim to the grip of the winds. She watched as the grass in her front lawn began to disappear under a layer of water. And still, he remained as angry as the storm. She stared into the abyss that was the darkness of the hurricane. Nighttime never came before 9 in a southern summer, but today everything was backward.
Slowly, the storm came to a close. The rain fell quieter, the lightning moved further, and the thunder clapped less frequently. It all faded into silence. She no longer heard him pacing or hitting the walls. The now gentle air caressed Charlotte’s face. She stood up and turned to face the door. Her mind was completely emotionless. She remembered the day they painted it together, though she couldn’t remember how she had felt with him. They had argued on the color until they had agreed on the green. Only now, in the calm after the storm, did Charlotte realize that the color had faded into nothing.