Strangers in a Storm

New Year's Date

My horny foxes. This story blindsided me today on a walk and my plans changed. I sat and wrote this for you. It’s long, so I’ve split it in two. Very, very slow burn. I hope you like it. Hapy New Year! Fox x

The rain beat down hard, driving the point home that I was alone. Gray skies, the occasional thunder and a whistling wind echoed how I felt.

Every channel I flicked to reminded me that billions were out celebrating. The first stories were coming through, from fireworks in New Zealand to those in Australia and Asia.

Gina padded over, a look on her face reminding me that I was lazy. She looked over her shoulder at the streaked windows, then back at me, as if resigning our fate. I patted the seat next to me, but even she rejected me. She sniffed, turned and went back to the corner, where she’d spent a large portion of the day judging me.

I got up. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I took a glass from the liquor cabinet, went to the kitchen for a couple of ice cubes, then came back and poured myself a scotch. I paused after a couple of shots, started to put the cap back on, then changed my mind and nearly filled the glass.

My first drink in weeks. Maybe even months.

Gina watched me, sniffed again and turned away, as if she was considering running away from home.

I sat, then the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it, but watching the same programs was depressing.

“Hey,” I said, “happy New Year.”

“Hello handsome. Please don’t tell me you’re sitting there alone. Oh, and happy New Year to you too.”

“I’m not alone, Sian. I’m with Gina, even if she thinks I’m awful company.”

“You are awful company. You’ve rejected every invitation to do something so you can sit there and doomscroll.”

I took a large swallow of my scotch, put the phone on speakerphone and leaned my head back on the expensive leather. It still had that new smell.

“What are you drinking?”

“Scotch. What are you drinking?”

“Nothing. I’ve got yoga at seven.”

“Fuck that.”

“I like yoga,” she said with a tone.

“I’m very happy for you. Why aren’t you out? Are you preparing for your yoga? Freshening your yoga mat up with scented oils?”

She laughed. “Bitch doesn’t look good on you, handsome. No, I’ve had weeks of Christmas parties, mostly clients. So I’ve been looking forward to a night to myself. Just me, my cat and some good music.”

I smiled, took another sip of the fast-acting numbing agent. “How is Mr. O’Malley?”

I could almost hear the cat purring. “He’s good. He says hello, he’s got his paws on my legs. Doesn’t like it when I’m on the phone.”

I looked over at Gina. “I have the same problem. She’s planning something, I can tell. She might be gone by morning, maybe worked out how to open doors and escape.”

She laughed. “You’re so dramatic! She loves you! As much as I love you! Now go out! Go to your local!”

“Sian, have you seen the weather? Not sure how things are going there in Devon, but here in Margate, it’s fucking stormy. Severe weather warnings and the advice is to stay home. So, I’m being a good boy and I’m staying home.”

A heavy sigh. “Fine, whatever, then at least take the dog for a little walk! Poor Gina! Just down the street and back.”

“I’m assuming you called to lecture me about something?”

I could feel her shaking her head. “Nope. But remember, this next year you’re going to be the phoenix. Rising from the ashes. Everything that happened is over. Gone. From this moment forward, it will get better. I promise. All of it.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything, then shrugged. “I might. But she’s even pickier than I am.”

A while later, when I was finally able to get rid of Sian, I put the empty but heavy glass down on the coffee table. It made a thud that made Gina look up at me.

“Alright you judgmental bitch. Wanna go walkies?”

She jumped up, raced over, her Golden Retriever face alight, and her tail fanning the room.

“Oh! Not so picky now, huh? You do realize it’s fucking freezing out there, right? Wet, cold, slippery?”

She raced over to the door and jumped up to paw at her lead.

I put my boots on, grabbed the same coat I’d been wearing for too long, my hat and keys, and opened the door.

The wind blew the heavy door in, nearly out of my hands.

“Fuck me! Are you sure you’re up for this disaster?”

Gina rushed out, running circles on the porch, oblivious to my concerns. I grabbed the lead, closed the door and crouched down. She rushed over, watched me, licked my face, then sat. I patted her and stroked behind her ears.

She gave me her love eyes.

We walked the drive to the main gates, waited for the security cameras to recognize us, then watched the painfully slow gates swing open.

Beyond the gates, wind slapped rain at us and within seconds, Gina’s coat was thick with water. At least my coat was dry on the inside, and the cap was waterproof, but still, my face and my hands felt the cold and the slap of the rain.

We walked along the path to the main coastal path and turned left. Gina led us on the usual walk, sensing that this would be a short one. She tried sniffing the railing that separated the path from the coast, but soon realized it was pointless. It no doubt smelled of more rain.

We walked two minutes, then turned left, away from the coast and back to the house. Sensing the limited time, Gina began her ritual. She slowed, walked in circles, sniffed this, sniffed that, then another circle, then a reverse semi-circle, and finally squatted.

I fished in my pockets for the poop bags and looked the other way. We had an agreement, she didn’t sniff at the door when I was in the bathroom, and I didn’t watch her when she went.

“You’re quite lucky, it’s legal for you to shit where you want.”

Gina didn’t reply, but I looked along the coast and barely saw beyond a few feet. It was so dark and gray.

I felt a tug on the lead, so I turned and knelt to scoop up her mess. Gina looked away as usual, as if to remind me that I was her slave. Her poop slave that always cleaned up after her.

The entire area appeared deserted, and with the wind and rain, and rumbling clouds, we didn’t hear it at first.

Gina tugged on the lead and tried to pull us back to the railing. I pulled back, “come on, girl! It’s wet and cold. We’ve been out. Please can we go home now?”

But she wouldn’t budge. Her ears were up and she looked left, then right, then immediately ahead. I waited.

She turned to me, her tail out straight, which is unusual, and turning her attention to a sound coming from the coast.

I heard it then. A muffled sound. Distant, and barely audible.

I loosened some of the lead and walked over to the railing, looking over at the shore and seeing nobody.

“What was that?” I asked her.

She sniffed, looked left, then spotted something and began pawing at the railing. She realized the path down to the beach was just a few feet away, so she shot that way, causing the lead to yank out of my hands. In seconds, she was gone.

“Gina!” I called out, but I wasn’t concerned. She was a good dog, a sensible dog. If Gina was rushing down the path, then there was a good reason for it.

I sighed. Whatever that sound was, it can’t be good, so I followed her.

The path down was slippery, but the high-end boots had great grip, and with the help of the railing, I slowly moved down toward the bottom, where I could see Gina sniffing at a bulk.

I immediately thought it was a dolphin. The shiny coat, the shape of it, and the way it lay there.

But as I neared the bulk, I realized it wasn’t a dolphin at all.

It was a man. He was barely moving. One hand reached out to the dog, she in turn began to tug at his sleeve.

Gina is a great dog, but she’s not generally a people person. It’s taken her years to warm to friends I’ve known my whole life. Watching her licking whoever this was, made me drop my guard a little. She was a much better judge of character than I had been.

Especially the past year.

I reached the man and assessed the situation. He was at the bottom of the slippery steps and appeared to have given up on rescue.

“Fuck! Are you okay? I’ll call an ambulance,” but I realized I’d left my phone at home.

“I’m okay,” he said, the vowels soft and rounded in a way I couldn’t quite place yet, “I slipped. Hurt my legs.”

“Can you walk?”

He winced, breath catching. “Maybe… with a bit o’ help, yeah.”

I came around and kneeled next to him. “I can call an ambulance from my house, because I didn’t bring my phone.”

He shook his head under the thick raincoat and soaked scarf, his face still hidden in shadow.

“No ambulance. I’ll be alright, like. Just… got myself in a state.”

“I’m going to put my arm under you and help you up, then we can assess the damage and see if you can walk,” I said, sliding into position.

Gina decided she was on the rescue team too. She moved to his other side, watched me lift his left arm, and took his right sleeve gently in her teeth, giving it a determined little tug.

He managed a small, breathy laugh. “Your dog’s adorable, isn’t she?”

I smiled. “This is rare. She doesn’t normally like other people; keeps her distance,” I said, wondering why Gina was so interested in this man.

“On three, ready?”

He nodded.

“Three,” I said, and yanked him up.

He laughed, but coughed, though between the three of us, we managed to get the man to his feet.

Finally, standing, he shook his head, but I could see he struggled with his balance, so I held him tight and kept my arm under him and supporting his weight.

“My house is just up there,” I said, pointing with my other hand, though there was no need, Gina had already started up the stairs to lead the way.

The walk back was long, and exhausting. While he didn’t seem to have any serious damage, it was clear he’d done something to his ankle. The way he winced when I held him suggested a lot of bruising too.

“What were you thinking walking out on a night like this?” I asked him, a bit frustrated to be performing a rescue and delaying my quick return to my couch.

“I was upset, went for a walk. Been a tough year. Slipped on the stupid stairs,” he said.

I felt something in his voice, so I let it go. We’ve all made mistakes and I was already thinking about calling a cab and getting him to the local hospital when we got home.

We trudged slowly to the main gates. I pulled my hood back so the cameras could see my face, and then we heard a click, and the motors running as the gates opened.

“Oh shit! That’s pretty cool!” he said. I was trying to narrow his accent down as we walked.

Gina reached the door first, and I’m sure if I’d given her the keys, she would have attempted to open the door with her mouth.

Once inside, the relief from the wind, the rain and the cold was immediate. We both stood in the hall for a few seconds, taking a breath and recovering from the walk.

“Here,” I said, moving him to the wall so he could use it for balance.

He did as I instructed, and I was able to get my coat and hat off and kick my boots off and put my slippers back on. I then helped him remove his coat and hung it up on the coat rack.

In the light, without his coat, I got to see him for the first time.

We both took each other in, finally able to see each other’s faces.

His eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. “Oh my God!”

I turned away, quite used to this.

When I turned back, he still stared. “You’re…”

I nodded and waved it away. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Rhys,” he said.

Part two is here.