“Authorities are saying that this is in fact a tropical cyclone, despite the fact that hurricane season doesn’t officially begin until June first. According to the NOAA, this is one of the worst storms on record, and it’s still picking up steam as it heads our way. Already, this extremely rare preseason storm, officially named Hurricane Dorothy, has claimed several lives, and as it closes in on Florida authorities are saying to prepare for the worst.” The weather anchor, a trim, neat man in his late forties, works up a grim expression. “Folks, it’s time to batten down the hatches. With more information on how to be safe during a hurricane, here’s Melanie—”

I shut off the TV, toss the remote aside. Try not to think about Christian, but fail. Is he out there, in that? Or is he safe in the Indian Ocean, making his way toward Indonesia? I wish, just for a moment, that I hadn’t been so rash, that I hadn’t shut off all my communications. But I had to. I had to. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t function. The thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, reading his words, it sent me into a downward spiral, and the only way out was to cut myself out his life completely. Don’t let him contact me. I sent him my goodbye. He abandoned me and didn’t look back, and now I have to start over.

I listed the condo.

I bought a prepaid cell phone and called my sister, Delta, and asked if I could come visit her for a while.

I haven’t seen Delta since Henry’s funeral. She took two days off, all she could afford, and by that time I was already drowning in my grief, too lost in my sorrow to even see her, much less interact.

We used to be close. We’ve exchanged emails on a weekly basis for years, and would talk on the phone a few times a month. But I never made the time to go see her, and she couldn’t come to me because she’s a single mom trying to support her five-year-old son on her own. Now I need her, and I regret not making time for her.

She told me she only had a couch to offer, but it was mine if I wanted it.

I have a suitcase packed. Snacks in the car, bills paid, mail held.

But, this morning, as I’m about to leave for Chicago, I turned on the news while I ate breakfast, and learned of the hurricane heading this way, which started far out in the Atlantic, and a heavy feeling hit my gut.

A feeling of fear, of foreboding. Dark, heavy as a ball of lead, thick, acidic. Burning.

I remember the dream I had a month ago, of Christian. He was in the cockpit of his boat, feet kicked up, a hand on the wheel. Sails bellied full of wind, the sun setting golden-red in front of him. But he didn’t see the monster. It was right behind him, trailing behind his boat, ink-black cloud-claws traipsing and slithering across the surface of the sea, reaching for his boat. A lightning-sharp talon went tap-tap-tapping on the stern, but Christian didn’t see it. Didn’t hear it. Didn’t turn around to glance behind him. The monster was a thing of storm clouds and lightning, towering a thousand feet in the air, eyes flashing evil, mouth a gaping black maw with gnashing teeth like scything waves a hundred feet high. It followed just behind Christian, prowling, stalking, hunting. And he didn’t see it.

I cried out, begging him to look behind. Watch for the storm, Christian.

Then I woke up, and dismissed it as a stupid dream.

And now, Hurricane Dorothy is raging her way across the Atlantic.

There’s no reason to worry, I tell myself. He’s safe. He’s not out there. He already crossed the Atlantic, already rounded the Horn. He’s not out there; he’s not in this.

I don’t even try to tell myself not to worry about him, that I shouldn’t care. I do.

I have my prepaid cell, and the minutes card. For emergencies. I have his sat phone number written down on a slip of paper, which is on the island counter in front of me.

I can’t help myself. I have to know he’s okay.

It takes several minutes to enter all the correct numbers, but eventually the line rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And rings.

No voicemail, just an end to the ringing, an abrupt silence.

With the hurricane on the way, I should leave now. Stick to the original plan. Get away from this condo, from the memories. From myself. Spend some time with my sister and nephew.

But I can’t.

The feeling of foreboding overwhelms me. Takes me over. Settles inside me, sinks in claws like roots.

My cell vibrates in my hand, and I answer it without looking at the number. “Hello? Christian?”

“Um, hi, Ava. It’s actually Delta.”

“Shit.” I breathe out a sigh of worry. “Sorry, Delta. I’m just trying to get hold of Chris, and he’s not answering. I thought you were him.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sis.”

I try to laugh it off. “No, not at all.”

“Hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you sound…off.”

“I’m just worried, is all.”

There’s a silence. “I know things have been rough for you since…”

“You can say it, Delta: since Henry died.”

“Right. I want to help any way I can. I mean, obviously, you’ve been struggling. I haven’t wanted to bug you about things, and I figured you’d reach out when you needed me.”

“Delta, I’m sorry, I just…you can’t imagine.”

“No, I really can’t.” Her voice is thick with sympathy. “If Alex ever…god, no. I can’t even imagine.” Another silence. “How are you coping?”

“I’m…not.”

“What about Chris?”

I choke. “I know you read my blog, Delta.”

“So it’s true? He just…left?”

I try to breathe, and don’t quite succeed. “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

“What a bastard. I thought better of him than that.”

“It’s…it’s more complicated than that, Dee. It’s not all on him.”

“I don’t give a shit what you may have done or said or whatever, Ava, there ain’t a single reason that would excuse his ass just up and leaving you alone like that.”

“You don’t know, Dee,” I whisper. “You don’t know.”

“Sounds like you’re defending him, almost.”

“I…I don’t know. There’s too much for me to cope with…and I was so…and he—” I fight a sob. “I need you, Delta. It’s so hard, and I can’t breathe and I can’t do this anymore.”

“I’m here, honey, I’m always here. You know that. Get your skinny ass to Chicago, okay? My house is yours for as long as you need. Me and Alex, we’ll take care of you.”

“I…I can’t leave. Delta.”

“What?”

“There’s a hurricane out there, and I just…I know it sounds stupid, but I have this feeling, a bad, bad feeling, and I can’t shake it. I’m scared for him.”

“He’s out there? Where the hurricane is?”

“I don’t know. Last I knew, he was going around the Horn.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Delta says.

“Sailing around the southern tip of Africa, into the Indian Ocean.”

“So he shouldn’t be in the hurricane, ’cause that’s in the Atlantic, right?”

“Right. But I still just…if something happens, and I’m not here? I shut off my phone and my email. I wanted to—I needed space from him, from us, from everything. I was going to go see you, take a road trip. Get away. But I can’t. He doesn’t have any way of contacting me and he’s not answering his satellite phone and…I just have to stay, Delta. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“Mom always did say a woman’s intuition was never wrong.” I hear a small voice in the background, and Delta’s muffled answer. “Look, I’ve gotta get Alex to school in a minute.”

“I’m sorry, Delta. I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. You have to take care of Alex.”

“Nonsense, girl. I’m your big sister, of course you’re gonna bother me with it. It’s what we do.” She says something else to Alex, and then returns to me. “Listen, honey, if you feel that strongly about staying, then you have to stay. And if you need me, then I’m gonna be there.”

“You can’t take any more time off work.”

“That’s my business, not yours. You’re getting a visit, okay?”

“I can’t ask you to come all this way, Delta. And what about Alex’s school?”

“He’s five, Ava. What’s he gonna miss? Snack time, recess, and gluing construction paper to more construction paper.” She emphasizes her point with a snort. “We’re coming, and that’s that. God knows I need a damn vacation anyway.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve got your back, Ava. No matter what.”

“God, I love you, Dee.”

“I know you do. Now, get a bed made up and stock up on wine. You’ll see us in a couple days.” I heard her in the background, talking to Alex. “Hey buddy, guess what? We’re gonna go see Aunty Ava down in Florida. How’s that sound?”

“YAY! Ava Ava Ava! And Uncle Chris?”

“He’s gonna be gone. He’s on a long business trip, okay, buddy? It’s just gonna be you and me and Aunt Ava.”

“Can we go now? I don’t even like show-and-share anyway. It’s dumb.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Back to me, then. “I’m gonna let you go. Gotta get packed and all that. Love you, honey.”

“Love you. Drive safe. See you soon.”

I sink onto a stool at the island, setting the phone aside.

I realize I forgot to tell her the hurricane was about to hit here. Maybe it will have blown over by then. Or maybe it will blow itself out before it gets here. I should tell her to wait until I know what’s going on.

There’s a tick-tick-ticking on the window, and then a flurry of rattling. I glance up, and the sky is dark. Black. Angry.

Too late to flee, now. Not that I would have, anyway.

I need to be here; I’m suffocating here, but I can’t leave.

Can’t breathe, can’t leave.

Delta is coming.

I hope the storm blows out before she gets here.

Outside, palm trees are waving their shaggy heads, nodding, dipping, bending sideways in an ever-strengthening wind. I’ve lived my entire life in Florida, so this isn’t the first hurricane I’ll have sat through. I know the drill.

Yet as the storm begins to rage, all I can think of is Christian.