I thought about calling Teo, but decided to do that on the way home. It might be a long conversation, or so historically short I’d be embarrassed to be cut off in public.

Fifteen minutes later I was on my way to my car. Seabank’s downtown area never buzzed at night, and the storm had cleared the sidewalks. Thunder still rolled in the distance, and I guessed pedestrians weren’t taking any chances. Cars passed, but headlights were shining now. I walked a little faster and was glad when I reached my car.

I will never understand why I decided to take the back way home. That route was quicker, yes, and there was usually less traffic. But the road, which veered sharply away from downtown before it ended up at Gulf Sands, sometimes flooded after a storm, and I knew that. Maybe I was busy thinking about Quayle, or more likely about Teo, I can’t remember. When I stopped at a light on the outskirts of Seabank, I punched in Teo’s number but got his voice mail. While I waited I left a message.

“Teo, the interview is finished, and I’m on my way home. In fact I’ve been sitting at the traffic light at Flamingo and 7th for about three months. Tell your cop friends somebody needs to adjust it or there’s going to be a riot.” I paused. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked away before we finished our argument. We need to work this out so it doesn’t happen again. Do you want me to stop by tonight? I’m not sure how long you’re working. Just let me know.” I paused again. “Please don’t stay angry. You know how I feel about you.”

I put my phone down and followed the car ahead of me through the light that was now green. Ten minutes later I realized my mistakes, and there were two. One, I hadn’t remembered the road often flooded. And two, I hadn’t checked the weather. Another storm began as I neared the lowest dip in the road. Seabank’s sandy soil could only absorb so much water, and besides, the water table here was always high and drainage ditches were always neglected.

By then I was almost alone on the road, everyone else too smart or too seasoned to be there. A lone car was closing in, but I couldn’t see any other headlights. I stopped as a lake appeared across the road ahead of me, and I realized my only way home was to go back the way I’d come. The water ahead was rising quickly enough that I was afraid to venture into the edges to make the turn. I needed to back up before I tried, but by now, the car behind me had its nose against my bumper. Clearly he wasn’t paying attention to the rising water, and he expected me to keep going.

I honked, but he didn’t move, so I flashed my lights. No success.

“Jerk.” I decided to try to make the turn without backing up by creeping just as far into the water as I absolutely had to. I did, but the car behind me followed. Now my only choice was to drive through the water, or get out and ask whoever was behind me to back up so I could turn around.