Fettered

Hello, Big Brother

Lucas sat in the dining room one evening with Zoe, the family getting ready to eat. His mom had dinner prepared and spread on the table. All that was left was waiting for Jack, who listened to the news from the living room. The old man joined them after it ended.

"Supposed to be a hurricane coming in soon," he said, taking a seat.
His mom questioned, "Oh dear, you mean that storm the news has been watching?"
"The very same. An' they said it's gotten worse. Category 3, at least. Lucas, me an' you gonna have to seal windows an' doors, clean out the gutters, check the pump — you know the drill."
"Yep," Lucas replied shortly.

Fuck. Sounded like a huge workload that he didn't feel like dealing with. He entertained Jack listing off their chores and talking about hurricane safety, but didn't pay much attention as he ate. Louisiana's bayou'd had plenty of bad storms over the years, especially seeing as it was early October, and they'd always been a pain in the ass, with the old house leaking from every possible seam. Last year in September, the guest house basement had been completely flooded out. What fun that was, wallowing around in the muck with the old man, trying to empty the damn thing with a specialized hose. With any luck, the guest house would just collapse in on itself and he would never have to worry about it again.

After dinner, the family returned to the living room to put on the news in hopes of hearing more about the storm. Lucas sat in the corner with Diane, one arm around the dog as he got on his phone and texted Persephone.

'Supposed to be a hurricane rolling through soon.'

He read their last text messages from that morning while he waited. She'd texted him first; a cute, if not odd greeting.

'Good morning, papa wolf!'
To which he'd followed up, 'Morning gorgeous, wtf is a papa wolf?'
He chuckled when he read her response for the second time. 'You, cuz you're all scruffy and fierce'
'You are a weird one'
'Gotta get my weirdness quota in before Saturday's hands-on training'

Ah, hands-on training. Happiness swelled in him to see it spelled correctly. He'd had her undivided attention and he absolutely loved it. Ronald's death had almost been a blessing. Ever since Ronald kicked the bucket in February, Persephone had been finding more time to spend with him. He didn't finish reading their exchange before his phone notified him of a new message.

'A hurricane?'
'Yep, category 3 according to Jack.'
'Are you guys going to be okay?'
'Hope so. You know how the storms round here get, but the news just suggested that everyone in the southern parishes evacuate.'
'Holy shit, are you going to?'
'Probably not. Momma and the old man are way too stubborn.'

He waited again. She didn't text him back, not even after 5 minutes had passed. It was 7 PM for him, so 8 for her. Probably making dinner for herself and Terry.

Thinking about her relationship with Terry prompted him to quell his anticipation by scrolling back up through their messages. He reread one she'd sent him about a week beforehand when she'd vented to him after a day of almost complete silence.

'Sorry I couldn't talk much today. Terry called me during class and the motherfucker was threatening to kill herself. I had to call 911 thinking she'd do it and I rushed back home. Turns out, she took almost an entire 2 weeks worth of her happy pills that morning, so I was with her at the hospital all damn day. They're keeping her overnight. Now I'm back at the stupid welfare house. Feels so empty.'

Hopefully, something like that wasn't going on at that very moment. Terry had been a handful this past year. When Ronald had died, Terry'd pawned almost everything to fuel her addiction and Persephone had kept the house(s) barren since then. Terry'd claimed to never be on anything aside from her medication and booze, but neither he nor Pers believed her.