Flood Watch: Thick and Thin

Chapter 1: Mom! Its flooded under there!

I woke up when a large, cold drop of liquid fell onto my face. I jumped and whipped it off. Water? I looked at the ceiling and saw more gathering at a wet spot in the plaster. What the hell? I furrowed my eye brows and I took Galleec’s arm off of my torso. Swinging my feet from under the covers, I placed them on the the ground with a groggy slap.

“Michael!” I screamed as I realized there was about three inches of water above the carpet, soaking my socks.

“Malissa what is it- what the hell!”

“That’s what I thought, too!” I heard an exasperated groan from beside me.

“Oh, no!” I heard my mom sob out. I looked around our room and took my socks off. The line were water had previously reached during another flood was not as high. This could be the worst it’s ever been.

“Malissa, what’s wrong?” Galleec groggily said and shifted under the covers.

“Nothing, babe,” she flipped her covers off of her and slowly sat up. “Why are the sheets wet?” she asked confused. I didn’t answer and got up, shivering from the sudden cold.

 “Michael,” I shouted thoughtfully as I trudged through the water to our open bedroom door, “Our house is above the ground, like a foot and half… If the water is coming up this high then-,“ I stopped and my eyes filled with dread. The house was silent as we all absorbed this.

“Stay inside!” Michael instructed. But, I followed him to our front door anyways. What I had feared the most had happened. It’s a miracle our house wasn’t swept away from the rushing water while we all were asleep.

“Michael, would you care to help me with this?” one of our older neighbors hollered from the middle of the street. He was building a blockade with sand bags the small community gathers for times like this.

“Um, sure. Just a second,” he quickly took his socks off as well and rolled his sweats up.

“That won’t help. Waters too high, boy!” he pushed his gray hair out of his face and let out a puff of air. I then looked up and stared at the fog hanging over my small poverty stricken community. We were one of the very few families that could afford to eat three times a day. We've frequently had neighbors over for dinner and had people begging for something at our door step. I don’t see why they would. We are almost in the same boat as them. We have stolen before. But that was when we didn’t know better and when Michael didn’t have a job. He's told me about when my mom used to exchange money for sex. She has never told us this. He said that she is trying to keep me out of that. I would never though. She should know that.

I went back inside but left the door open. No point in closing it. I found my mom making sure that the electricity was not turned off with Galleec clinging at her side.

“Girls, you should gather up some clothes to stay at your Grandmother’s,” she sighed. She knew we didn’t like grandma. Neither did my mom. It was her mother-in-law: Dad’s mom.

“I know she is hard to get along with… mostly because she is paranoid, but she’s the only one that will be able to take you girls in for a few days.”

“Where will you stay mommy?” Galleec asked.

“A friend’s house. She lives a half hour away and Michael will find a friend to stay with. Just like all the other times, Galleec,” she seemed agitated with her question, as if the answer was obvious. After checking our electricity-box she went to the front door.

“Michael did you check under the house?” she shouted as I helped Galleec to our room.

“Mom! It’s flooded under there! I’m not going under the house!” it was all muffled from outside but I made it out.

“Poke a stick around under there or something! Just make sure my house ain’t going to collapse!”

“I will Mom, don’t worry,” the hesitation in his voice was evident. It made me smile. They bicker like that all the time, like an old couple.

“Galleec, get a bag ready. Just make sure the clothes aren’t wet. If they are, leave them out on the bed, okay?” I said to her.

“Okay,” she mumbled helplessly under her breath. Even though this has happened many times before, at least to me, she still seems dazed with shock every time. I wouldn’t say I’m used to it, but it’s happened enough that I know the drill.

I slowly picked through my clothes in the small chest in the corner with her, hunched over.

“Would you mind getting a bag ready for me?” I hear from the doorway. I snap my head to the doorway, making my hair swirl, flustered. He seemed to be staring at me. Strange. I nod and I take in his expression before I go back to sifting through the rest of the clothes, picking out what’s mine and wearable. He seemed shaken and worried. That’s unusual for him.

“Just go ahead and toss the wet clothes you find…” He said thoughtfully.  “I have a feeling I won’t really need them,” he turns and walks back out of the house before I can register his face. He doesn’t show much emotion in his voice, but you can read his face like a book cover, giving you information to what’s inside.

I find the shirt I wore to my dad’s funeral in the bottom, unharmed. I take it as a good sign. My mother has taught us to believe in messages like this. It might not mean anything to someone else, but it means everything to be. It was at the bottom. The very bottom, and unscathed.

I messily folded the clothes I had gathered and placed them on a dry stop on the bed. I then went to a smaller chest beside it containing underwear and bras. I gathered them all in one armful and plopped them down next to the other two stacks Galleec and I had made. 

I find two bags on the middle shelf in the our small pantry; one for Michael, one for Galleec and I. As I organize all of our clothes in the bags, I cant help but think back to when Michael talked to me from the door way. Just the way he acted. What he said. It all scares me. He never acts so distort. Ever.