The More Boys I Meet

“Why are there no lights?!” Pat yelled out.

I sighed, irritated at being disturbed again by Patrick. I was trying to get a paper done for my summer Psychology class which I began online a two weeks ago. This was my final paper, so to say, and I really did need to get it done. Preferably by Friday. It was Sunday. Only so much time left.

“Ellie!” he whined.

“What?!”

“Power’s out,” he announced.

“What?!” I shouted, looking at my battery life. Nine percent left. “No! No! No!” I screamed, saving my work, sending it to myself, and putting it on my flash drive before my computer died.

I stomped down the stairs and stood with my hands on my hips. “We need to get somewhere where there’s power so I can finish my paper!” I declared.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Pat said, looking out the window. “There’s a big storm rolling in, which is probably why the power is out. Tornados might even hit.”

“We’re in Chicago, not in Tornado Alley!” I cried. “This is ridiculous!”

The lights flickered before coming back on and I ran to plug in my computer for strength.

There was pounding on the door and I looked over the railing to see who it could possibly be in the midst of what could be the biggest storm of the summer.

“You idiots?” I sighed at the three Swedes.

“Johnny and Crow are on their way over too. Everyone’s power is out. Get your laptop charged, we’re in for a big one Ell.”

Everyone plugged in their phones and computers while we still had power. I worked diligently on my paper while they all made food while we still had working devices. Because we’d starve if the oven and microwave stopped working.

“Are you done?” Viktor stuck his head in, snacking on a burrito.

“Almost,” I said. “I’m five hundred words short. . .”

“Bull shit,” he shrugged.

“I’m trying to,” I sighed. “I hate writing papers.”

“What’s it on?”

“Psych. I’m doing an online class and I’m on the last paper already and I just want to get it out of the way and earn my three credits.”

“Ah, let me see it,” he said, polishing off the snack and reading my paper. And he actually managed to help me bull shit another seven hundred and fifty three words and I pressed send.

I sat back, satisfied with myself and unpluggled my laptop. “Thanks Viktor. I appreciate it.”

He grinned. “No problem.”

Marcus wandered in. “There you guys are. Finish your paper?” he asked me walking over to us.

I nodded. “Thanks to your Swedish bull shitter, yes.”

“Oh, so now I’m Swedish?” Viktor joked, walking out. “Did they make the pizzas yet?”

“They just came out of the oven,” Marcus confirmed.

I don’t even think he heard; already downstairs inhaling it all. I laughed at the thought and sat back. “Still raging on outside?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s getting worse actually.”

I sighed and fell back on my bed. “I hate storms! They’re just so unnecessary, you know?”

“Sure. . . ?” he more or less asked.

I leaned on my elbows, looking at him. “All of the loud thunder. The bright lightning, the bullet like rain, the tornado like winds. All not needed.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you afraid of storms?”

“No!” I declared. “I’m just saying they’re kind of useless is all.”

A crack of thunder ripped through the house, causing me to jump off the bed and onto the floor.

“So when you said no, you actually meant yes,” he smiled a little before helping me up onto the bed again.

“Not the actual storm, just the loudness of it all,” I specified.

He nodded.

“Aren’t you afraid of anything?” I asked, laying down on my stomach, hugging a pillow under my chin.

He sat on my bed, one leg on the bed, the other dangling off, thinking about an answer as he stared at the wall. “Everyone’s afraid of something,” was his answer.

“What are you afraid of?”

He thought about it some more, kicking off his shoes before propping up his feet on my bed. He was getting more comfortable in Chicago, just like Viktor said. He just needed time to warm up. “Change I guess,” he finally spoke. “I don’t really enjoy or welcome change.”

“And yet you’re here,” I looked up at him.

He nodded. “It’s been hard. . . .but well worth it,” he said slowly. “Chicago is a good home.”

I smiled and closed my eyes, humming a song my mother used to sing to me when I was little and couldn’t get to sleep. It was working; I was slowly falling asleep when yet another clasp of thunder rocked my body.

I felt Marcus’ hand on my back hesitant and gentle as he traced circles on my back slow and calming. My body went from rigid to relaxed in a matter of seconds as he continued to trace lines and shapes along my body. Before I knew it, I was falling into an easy and comfortable sleep. As I drifted in and out of dreamland, I heard someone humming a song different than mine. It was Marcus, humming and tracing circles on my back to make me feel better.

The more boys I meet, the more I find that maybe they’re not all so bad after all.