"We are leaving it to Irma and Geico"

I texted with my friend Henry all day today and spoke to him tonight. He was really quite cheerful and very busy, preparing to ride out Irma.

He and Reg cleaned out the garage and to make room for their patio furniture and potted plants. They are taking care of the car that runs, the hybrid. But as for the one that doesn't run, the one Reg really, really is going to find parts for someday, "We are leaving it to Irma and Geico."

They set up the generator. I didn't quite understand what he told me he decided to do with the big tree near the back porch. I know he loves that tree, but sometimes his Puerto Rican accent comes between me and comprehension.

Then, Friday evening, he let me know that they relocated, after all. At first I was relieved, now less so. For, while they have their three-story townhouse* farther inland ("inland" being a relative term when you're talking about a small island), they have taken refuge in a big (for Key West) house nearer the ocean. Henry says this house is "sturdier" their wood A-frame. He is more worried about wind than water. The noises here, he believes, be less terrifying to Reg, who is just more naturally afraid of hurricanes.

"We are en suite," he happily reported. They are sharing this 6BR, 3BA with (I think) three other couples. Since they were last to arrive -- and came with three dogs -- they were put in what would, at other times, be the best room in the house but for Irma is the least desirable. They're in the master bedroom on the ground floor in the back. But they have their own bathroom, and this makes him happy, since he assumes they will be there for two nights.

Yes, he thinks he and Reg will pack up "the fur babies" and drive home on Sunday afternoon.

He barely knows the couple who took him, Reg and the dogs in now, at the last minute. The man is the ex-husband of Henry's friend, Sherry. The divorce was decades ago and, apparently, amicable -- perhaps because Sherry left him because she wanted to live as a lesbian, the truest manifestation of "it's not you, it's me" I've ever heard. Anyway, that's Key West at it's best. "You're scared? You need room for a night, or a week? C'mon in, and bring your dogs."

In the meantime, I am sick with worry. I wish it was Sunday night, and I was journaling here about how safe my friends are.
 

*The ground floor is the garage.