"It’s coming," Princess Amy declared, her voice echoing through my thoughts with theatrical flair.
"What’s coming?" I asked, though I already knew.
"Hurricane season." Amy’s grin was positively sinister. "June 1st. Practically tomorrow."
"It’s mid-May—and gorgeous outside," I objected.
"Exactly how they lull you into a false sense of security," she insisted, omitting any details on who “they” might be. "Then—WHAM! A Category 5 churning up the Cape Fear River."
I sat up with a start. "Do you really think we could get a major hurricane this year?"
Saved By the Wonder
Ms. Wonder appeared in the doorway before Amy answered. She was dressed in a sensible outfit that somehow managed to look both efficient and elegant. She extended a cup of coffee toward me like a reward for waking.
"Another conference with Princess Amy?" she asked.
"She's convinced we're in for the hurricane of the century," I explained, accepting the coffee with gratitude. "Says we're overdue."
"It has been rather quiet these past few years," Poopsie acknowledged, sitting at the edge of the bed with the poise of someone who has never once panicked about barometric pressure. "But that doesn't mean we need worry about it in May."
"Not worrying," I clarified. "Planning. There's a difference."
"There's really not," Poopsie said with a smile. "At least not when it comes to you and weather systems."
With my anxiety simmering just below the surface, I slipped out of bed and steered Wind Horse toward the Circular Journey Café for Sunday coffee with Island Irv. I was confident that a family man like Irv would be a more receptive audience for my hurricane concerns.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
The Cape Fear River calmly stretched into the distance, its surface deceptively calm under the morning sun. The Memorial Bridge arched over the water, giving me an unobstructed view of a dredging barge lit up like an emergency warning sign. Not what I needed in my current mental state.
"You know," Princess Amy said, her voice taking on a storyteller's cadence, "they say during the Storm of 1913, the water reached this very bridge."
"This bridge wasn't built until decades later," I pointed out.
"Don't interrupt," Amy scolded. "I'm creating ambiance. Anyway, the storm surge came rushing up the river like a liquid locomotive, swallowing everything in its path."
Despite knowing better, I found myself gripping the steering wheel more tightly as I turned onto Third Avenue and then into the Castle Street Arts District.
Inside the café, I felt a sense of calm from the soft, gentle atmosphere. Island Irv was already seated at our usual corner table by the windows, but away from the door. He looked casual and relaxed in a Yankees sweatshirt that had definitely seen better decades.
Serious But Easily Solved
"Genome, my man!" he called out, raising a mug of something that looked like coffee from home. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
"For now," I replied ominously, settling into the chair across from him. "But hurricane season is coming."
Irv's expression remained unchanged, like a man who had long ago made peace with whatever the universe might throw at him. "Aren't hurricanes just big windy storms, after all? Besides, they give you plenty of warning, not like earthquakes that show up unannounced."
"Just big—" I sputtered, nearly knocking over the cappuccino, freshly delivered by Awet, our favorite barista.
"Irv, they're devastating forces of nature!" countered Awet.
I felt Princess Amy stirring deep in my brain, in the vicinity of the hippocampus. "Why do you drag me down here every Sunday to deal with this duffus?" she asked.
"What concerns me," I said, leaning forward into Irv's personal space to show I meant business. "We're overdue. It's been years since Wilmington took a direct hit."
"So?" Irv asked, taking a sip from his mystery mug. Awet gave him an open-mouthed look of disbelief.
"So?" said Amy with considerably more topspin than Irv put on the word. "Did he just say, 'So?' What a cabbage head."
"So, we need to prepare!" I insisted. "Evacuation routes, emergency supplies, communication plans. We need to decide whether we'll evacuate or shelter in place. And if we evacuate, where do we go? And what about Zwiggy? She hates car rides."
"Zwiggy is a squirrel," Irv reminded me.
"She's family," I corrected.
Irv leaned back in his chair, the very picture of unbothered existence. "Look, Genome, I've lived through more hurricanes than I can count—"
"That's not saying much," Amy interjected inside my head. "He can barely count to ten without using his toes."
"That's your hurricane preparedness advice?" I said. "Just don't think about it."
"That and buy plenty of beer," Irv added. "Power goes out, beer stays cold for at least a day if you keep the fridge closed."
"Genius!" Awet snorted. "Typical man. World ending, better have cold beer."
I had to admit, she had a point. "Yeah," I said in solidarity, "My anxiety disorder called him a cabbage head."
"On point," said the Awet, offering me a high five. I didn't leave her hanging.
"Hey!" said the Islander. "I'm right here and I don't appreciate being the object of derision."
"Oh, it's all in fun," said Awet. "Don't get your knickers in a twist." She offered me another high five.
"Yeah, relax, Irv," I said. "Maybe if we ignore you, we won't even notice your head."
"I'm serious," warned Irv. "Call me cabbage head just one more time and I'll cosh you cross-eyed."
"Ok, ok," said Awet. "Yes, it's serious, but not a difficult problem. I think a different hairstyle would provide a solution."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Just a little closer trim would make it clear to even the most casual passerby that his head looks more like a pumpkin than a cabbage."
There's Nowhere Like Home
Later that evening, as the setting sun cast a golden glow over our garden, my anxiety about the hurricane faded to a manageable level. Ms. Wonder had rightly pointed out that we had weathered storms before, and we would do so again. If the big one were to hit Wilmington this year, we'd be prepared.
My thoughts drifted to the idea that regardless of circumstances, we'd always have each other, and that alone would improve any situation.
"And you'll have me," Amy reminded me. "You're stuck with me through fair weather and foul."
On that somewhat comforting thought, I leaned back in my chair and allowed myself to enjoy the perfect May evening, while reminding myself to check prices on hurricane shutters before June 1st.
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