“Wow,” she said. “OK. Um, I appreciate it.”
“Don’t fall all over yourself.”
Once the tank was full and he’d put the can back in his truck, he took out a set of cables, opened the electrical junction box in the boxwoods at the base of her kitchen window, and set about connecting the generator. A stuck panel gave him some trouble and he pulled out the Buck hunting knife he kept in a sleeve on his belt, using the butt end to jam it back into place. He was good with his hands and knew what he was doing.
Aubrey watched, appreciating his ingenuity at first, but she was conflicted. Something about this seemed very not right. Maybe it was the fact that Rusty had never, in the eight years she’d known him, ever once done anything without expecting something in return.
Yeah, that was it.
“The shithead up yet?” Rusty asked, stepping back from the electrical setup and glancing toward Scott’s window, which was just over the driveway.
“Not for a few hours,” Aubrey said.
“Figures. You’re gonna need him to get that thing in the basement. That’s where it’s gotta go, whenever you’re not using it. Do not forget, and don’t let him weasel out of it. You know what people would do to get their hands on a genny right now?”
“I can imagine.”
He looked at her and smiled. She noticed he’d let his teeth go. “You want to fire it up?”
Aubrey shrugged. “Guess so.”
He gestured to the house. “Go turn off anything that’s on.”
She hated the way he tried to order her around. He always had, mostly without success, but failure had never stopped him from attempted bossiness. But she did what he said, because she wanted power, mostly to see if it was possible, but also because, well, she wanted power. For the past couple days, she’d been getting herself used to the idea that there wasn’t going to be any, not now, not tomorrow, and not for a very long time, and all of a sudden somebody shows up and says here you go? She was exhilarated and disappointed at the same time.
The screen door banged behind her as she went inside, flicking switches here and there, unsure if she was turning them on or off, until she decided to unplug a few things instead. She got to the kitchen and opened the window next to the table. She could see the top of Rusty’s head outside.
“All set.”
He bent down in front of the generator, shouting up through the window as he worked. “There’s a fuel valve on the front, it’s black and round. Turn it to OPEN. Move the choke rod from right to left, then you just flick the switch.” He did and, after a moment, the generator chugged to life, spitting a small black cloud before settling into a low-level hum and rattle. He continued, raising his voice over the engine. “Once it’s on, move the choke rod back to the right.”
In the kitchen, the lights over the sink flickered and turned on. Aubrey tried not to gasp, but she was delighted.
“There you go,” Rusty said, stepping back and wiping his hands, grinning.
Aubrey went to the counter, picked up her dead iPhone, and shoved it into the cradle on the kitchen counter, next to the sink. She held her breath and then, after a moment, the phone’s screen blinked and the Apple logo appeared, signaling that it was charging.
Her hands went to her mouth, involuntarily. Oh, shit, was she tearing up? She was, and, goddamn it, that made her mad, it was a fucking phone for Christ’s sake, and hadn’t she been happier without it?
“Again—you are welcome.” Rusty’s voice was lower because he was in the house now, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. She hadn’t heard him come in, and she definitely hadn’t invited him. But he had given them power back.
“Maybe just run a half hour now,” Rusty said. “Let it warm up. Then another half hour if you want to, before it gets dark. And definitely get the goddamn thing in the basement before night falls.”
Again not asking permission, he turned and went to the base of the steps, shouting up the stairs. “Scott! Hey, shithead!”
“Don’t do that.”
“Scott! Get your ass out of bed. I gotta show you something.”
“Rusty.” She raised her voice, calling from the kitchen doorway. “Do not shout up the stairs.”
But Scott opened his door and came to the top of the stairs in his pajama bottoms, squinting down at Rusty, then turning to Aubrey. “The fuck is he doing here?” he asked.
Aubrey noticed their positions—Scott at the top of the stairs, Rusty at the bottom, and she around the corner, in the doorway to the kitchen. She felt an acute sense of déjà vu. This was exactly where they stood the day Scott had cast his lot in life with his thoroughly unprepared stepmother.