It was close, but there is no afterglow to suggest fire. He lies there appreciating the breeze for a moment until the rain drums in. He is reaching to lower the first window when he really wakes up. This is the sleeping porch. The deck had taken twelve years' rainstorms, and winter snows for that matter, before the walls went up.He smiles more nastily than Ginnie would like to see and goes down the hall to Cheryl's room. He pounds on the door until Kevin sounds awake."Gully washer. Close your window. I'll get the kids."He goes into the grandchildren's room. The doorway still has muggy air though he can feel sudden coolness two-thirds of the way to the window. He drops the window down to one inch above the sill, grabs all the grands' treasures from the sill, and drops them at the foot of David's bunk. He leaves the door open.He lowers the bathroom window to the same one-inch clearance. He pisses. He wipes himself down with a washcloth, soaks the cloth again, and takes it and two. What he had not figured out, however, was that I was (and still am) almost completely impervious to tickling. I have to be half-dead with exhaustion to squirm even the slightest when tickled, and that day I wasn't tired. So when I pounced with fingernails ready, he was caught completely by surprise. I managed to get him curled up in a ball, trying vainly to protect himself by tickling me back, and all the while I was telling him exactly how much trouble he was in. He laughed, he begged for mercy... and then the tables turned. He suddenly remembered he was almost twice my size, and had the strength to go along with it.Before I knew what was happening, he had his hands locked around both of my wrists, supporting me with my stomach compressed over his knees and his arms out straight to keep my fingers as far from his armpits he could possibly get them. That would have been the end of it, until he realized that laying across his knees as I was, I couldn't breathe. He did not want to.
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