This is Chapter 31 of a YA novel. To see where the story began, check out the GIRL, UNPLUGGED table of contents post, or head to the GIRL, UNPLUGGED section of the Story Hoarder Substack page to see all the chapters.
This chapter is a 7 minute read.
CHAPTER 31: Home
Officer Gary Doone walked me and Russ home. Of course I wanted to walk with Russ alone, but I can’t say I minded the police escort. I was tired of being “on” all the time, of being hyper aware of my surroundings and being tense every step of the way wondering who or what might jump out at me from every shadow. We had protection now, but more than that, we were home. We talked mostly to Gary rather than each other, but that was okay too. Talking about everything with Gary, like it was already all in the past, like it was truly over, brought on another wave of relief.
I only live about three blocks away from the precinct. When we got to my house and I walked in the door my mother screamed. I promise you I am not exaggerating. A full-on blood-curdling scream. Then she grabbed me and hugged me so tight I thought I wasn’t going to survive. I thought, Sure, after all of this I will be killed by my own mother’s joy. I couldn’t help myself, but when I saw Roger run down the stairs with my dad while I was still in my mom’s arms, I started crying. I think I had convinced myself that I wasn’t ever going to see them again. In fact, I think some part of me forced myself to believe that just so I could go on without seeing them. But none of that was true. They were here, home and they were safe.
And so was I.
I pulled away from my mom and introduced everyone to Russ. Which ended up being pointless.
They all knew him.
In fact, mom started crying when she pulled him in for a hug, too. She told him that his sister had just been over that afternoon and they were all worried about him too. Russ gave Rog a pound and said, “So you got her home okay without me?” And Rog nodded pretty seriously. “Thanks little dude.” Then he pulled him in for a hug and I think I saw his eyes water.
Officer Doone had told Russ and I that he would need to talk to our parents for a bit when he dropped each of us off because all of our parents had submitted missing persons reports for us. So I took Russ out to my backyard and sat down just to talk for a bit. He said he wanted to stay with me, but we both knew no one was going to allow that. So, instead, he promised that he would see me at first light.
“Which window is yours?” he asked.
I pointed at the window closest to the gate.
He said, “Perfect, if you aren’t already outside, I’ll knock on your window. Is that okay?”
“That would be great,” I said because I felt like a night without him was already too much time to be apart.
Rog came out and started asking us about everything we saw and told us how “boring” his two days had been. “The most exciting thing, no offense, was going to the police about you.”
I felt bad for him. And yet I was so grateful. I could have wished nothing better for my little brother.
“Russ,” Officer Doone called from the back door, “we better get going.”
Russ stood up, said goodbye and gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek. I was happy that’s all he did even though I kind of wanted more, but everyone was watching.
Dinner was barbecue. Mom had a cooler that she had put all of the meat she had frozen. Normally it would take us months to go through it all, but she said we had to eat it before it all went bad. She gave some of it to our neighbors because she knew we’d never make it on our own. Over dinner that night Mom, Dad and Rog all told me what happened to them in the last few days. There were a lot of anecdotes about lost technology appliances and lights. A tale of inconvenience at its best. The worst part was the loss of contact, not only with me, but with all of our family. We still had no idea how anybody else was doing. There was a new newsletter from the police precinct, that the mailman delivered, by bike to each zone. They pasted them up on street corners informing residents of people found, news about “The Event” and where to go to get or provide various services. Things seemed to be organizing even if it was at a slow pace.
I told my parents everything that happened (minus any juicy details that will remain private between Russ and I), but I kept out the details about Janice when I told Rog. I’ll tell him someday, just not now. I don’t want him thinking about that or about what could have happened to me. To be honest with you, part of me doesn’t want to think about it any more either, but I owe it to Janice and the woman she was and I pray she will continue to be. The woman I still want to be. A woman who helps others in a time of need, protects those she can and bravely faces foes for the right to give instead of take.
Janice was my hero, but she wasn’t my only one. The way Dustin came to Stella’s rescue time and time again, was amazing; Stella’s bravery in the face of true death; Rose’s ability to fight through her pain; Officer Avery for running into an ugly scene and taking a bullet to protect the rest of us; Chief Grady for bringing a touch of humanity to every interaction in our adventure, for reminding us who we are no matter what the world is turning into around us; Mrs. Krimble for risking her own safety to try to get us home as quickly as possible; Ben and Carol for finding a way to beat the odds and then give back; Daria for finding something new to be excited about… they are all heroes. Because what I realize is that heroes aren’t always the grandiose people wearing spandex and capes. The real heroes are the ordinary people that don’t back down when life deals from its trickiest deck of cards. Heroes are those that continue to play.
I thought the bed at the Marriott Marquis was the most comfortable bed I had ever experienced, but getting into my own bed, with clean sheets after a sponge bath where I was actually able to put clean clothes on afterward? Hands down, easily the most comfortable bed ever. But even in its comfort, my bedroom was a foreign landscape to me. I can not even think of a time where I have ever set my head on those pillows without some electronic device in hand. I looked over to my iHome in the fading glow of twilight, and, on my nightstand the iPhone I carried home with me from the museum. They were useless, but what was more, I didn’t need them.
I was going to stay in touch with my friends. I was going to see Russ at first light. I was going to see the rest of the gang when the sun hung high in the sky not tomorrow, but the day after that. Rainbow had showed us all how we could still find music without our iTunes, and Dr. Davies left the clues for Russ that brought us to a show that beat anything I have ever found on Netflix. As for stories? I thought maybe tomorrow I would sit down and read a little bit of that Lord of the Flies book from Mr. Gideon’s English class, just to see what it was all about. Who knows? Maybe there’s something there too.
I fell asleep not too long after the sun set. I dreamed of nothing and everything at once. Upon waking there was nothing for me to remember, but I knew that I had lived another adventure in my dreams. I woke because I heard a tapping at my window, which was full of light. First light, I thought.
I threw on a zip up hoodie, slipped into my sneakers stepping on the heels so they transformed into slippers and I snuck out the side door like I usually do in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to wake my family too early. There was Russ in a hooded sweatshirt, long boxer shorts and beach slippers. I ran up and hugged him. He smelled like soap. “First light,” he said pointing up.
I looked up and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was another aurora.
“How can this be?” I asked.
“Remember when Dr. Davies said they thought they were seeing another storm when everything happened? This must be from it,” he said, “Got a place we can sit?”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him into my backyard, but before we got to the chairs, he stopped me and said, “There’s just one thing, Natalie. Have I told you that I think you are beautiful?”
But before I could answer him, he kissed me. This was a much longer and deeper kiss than any of the others before. His arms wrapped tightly around me. I felt the balance of his strength and tenderness and I put my arms around him. I felt goosebumps all up my legs and arms, but I knew it wasn’t from the cold. This was the kiss — not the one on the cheek, or even the one on the horse-drawn carriage — this was the kiss we were both waiting for, longing for. It was a moment shared between us not steeped in suffering, agony, and repentance. It was a moment between only us without an audience, or applause or congratulations. It was a kiss between Russ and I, alone; it was an expression of how good we made each other feel, of how much we wished to be there for each other, and it carried all of our potential to love one another. It was a kiss as a kiss is supposed to be: intimate, personal and affectionate, dare I even say passionate. And as the auroras glowed above in this magical moment, and we separated I knew that “this too shall pass” so I decided that instead of analyzing it I should just enjoy it. So, instead of saying anything, I kissed him and that kiss lasted even longer than the first one. I sunk deeper into Russ’s lips and arms and let myself feel everything until I finally lead him to the lawn chairs where we sat together for hours, hand in hand, watching the colors dance in the sky.
~ THE END ~
Leave a comment - Question of the Week and, Honestly THE Question of the Book
If you came along on the entire Girl, Unplugged journey and made it back home here with Natalie, Russ and the rest of the class, I can not thank you enough. It has been a very long time since I drafted and revised this novel. Both the world and I have changed in so many inumerable ways, it is fun for me to “visit” my past in these pages and try to remember who I was when I wrote them. Which is to say, I have lots of nostalgic love for this story, but it does often feel dated to me. I am wondering, as an impartial reader — a person who didn’t live through the creative process of this story — did you feel this story was dated, or like a time capsule, or, perhaps, did it feel like something that could still be written in this world as we know it now?
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