35. Affinity

Mignon trundled down the stairs to the basement, turned right and swung the heavy basket of laundry onto the worktable. Her slippers splashed for the last few steps. Looking down she was dismayed to see a shining sea of water over most of the floor.

Later that day she escorted her husband down to see the ‘flood’, a recital of the mess not satisfying enough to share the worry of it.

Aloysius Schick, or Wish as he was better known, ruefully surveyed the tide of water reaching under all storage containers, wood, polyurethane or otherwise.

“Why is this happening?” asked Mignon. “The rain we had today couldn’t have done all this.”

Wish struggled with the advisors in his head. Should he pacify her, or give her more to worry about?

“Well, honey, it wasn’t this storm, it was the sequence of storms.” 

Mignon crossed her arms against her chest, cocked her head to one side and waited.

“Well,” he sighed, “it’s the water table. It’s risen under the floor.”

“Oh… my…..GOD!” she exclaimed. “Water,” she paused to breathe, “is right under there?”

She pointed to the gray-painted cement floor.

“Um, yeah,” said her husband, beginning to sweat.

He could see the little curlicue wrinkle form on her forehead, indicating that her thoughts were flying a mile a minute.

“Oh my God,” she said and flew back up the stairs.

That night, Mignon marched down the stairs and stood at the water’s edge. They did not live near the beach. They were situated on level ground on the middle of Long Island. They had inhabited their cozy cottage of a house for five years with seasonal dampness, yes, but never a lake such as this.

Mignon loved the water. Not just the roaring surf, freezing, heart-stopping water collecting in a basin under a waterfall, or a serene lake, but all things related to the water world. She would wander in a light rain throughout her garden, feeling the gentle touch of drops on her body. She would seek out the sparkling diamond droplets on the tips of pine needles, muddle her fingers in water collected in a deep leaf, and pull a drooping branch and spring back as a rainstorm beat the grass.

Sleep was never better than when the rain tickled the windowpanes or drummed on the roof. If she couldn’t get to sleep she imaging herself a drowsing bird, thinking itself safe for the night perched on a branch under masses of rhododendron leaves. When thunder and lightening announced a storm, she would be besieged with frightening drops bucketed onto her wings. She would fly desperate to reach shelter and land, shaking soaking wings on the porch of a tiny birdhouse. She would go inside to find an old nest, lined with soft feathers. There she would rest and watch the storm’s night terrors before drowsing off, safe.

She looked down fascinated. She jumped straight up and down near the water with as much force as she could. The water rippled, disturbed, then smoothed itself, unfazed. She tossed a penny she found in her pocket from jeans now in the dryer. The round circles of water spread into satisfying waves. She marveled at their symmetry.

The lights went out. Why had a former owner installed a timer on the lights for no good purpose?  Mignon dismissed her initial instinct to rush up the stair. She heard the slow lap of water. It echoed and surged, winding itself in a subterranean chamber around large stones impeding its progress, rushing to another destination. It was rushing right under her feet, caressing the cement floor when it reached high enough in its coursing.

Her fingers stretched to reach the water. She could feel the swirl of it, sensuous, caressing her hands. It was then she registered that the water had risen half way up her thighs, and there was the delicious sound of echoed dripping, as if in an underground cavern. Music.

The water, fragrant as a wooded glen, lifted the tips of her hair and spun it lazily around her shoulders. She murmured a sigh and reclined her head back into it. Watery fingers inched along her tingling scalp to her hairline.

“Wish,” she thought.

Crashing stomping steps reached her, arms encircled her and dragged her from the almost merging that had tried to breach her fragile skin and draw her home once more.  

 (734 words)