Gale
Iwatched from the narrow window beside the door until Ozrik’s car turned onto the road and vanished into the night. Only then did I properly exhale. I couldn’t take his scrutiny. The intensity of his stare was enough to turn me inside out. Why did he look at me like that?
This day had been overwhelming to say the least, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, burrow under the covers, and process. My head spun, and I was so tired.
The house was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual.
When Olivia moved out, she took chaos with her.
No more loud music. No more elephant feet—she stomped when she walked.
No more piercing laughter that shattered your eardrums or squeals of delight as she talked on the phone to her countless friends.
The TV no longer blared with sitcoms or whatever series was trending.
A void had opened where her constant chatter used to live.
Dad and I were quiet people. Reserved. We preferred books to music and often used closed captions on the TV rather than turning the volume beyond a whisper.
Meals consisted of simple conversation, using as few words as possible.
We lived in comfortable silence. The only way you could tell one of us was walking around was from the creak and groan of the ancient floorboards shifting under our weight.
The stillness reminded me of church, a place I no longer went, out of fear of having to explain my failure at the seminary.
I checked the front room where Dad spent his evenings reading, but he wasn’t there. I poked my head in the kitchen, then his bedroom at the back of the house, before heading to the basement. Although I didn’t hear the washer or dryer running, he could have been folding clothes.
Dad wasn’t there either.
The basement was spacious and mine. Along with a rec room containing a fireplace and sitting area, there was a laundry room and a cellar that I’d converted to a darkroom.
My bedroom was off the rec room, a cozy but crowded space with plenty of bookshelves, a double bed, a desk, and a closet.
Photographs covered every inch of the walls—some framed, others simple prints, pinned up with thumb tacks.
Most were of nature or weather-bruised skies.
A few of Olivia and my father hung above the bed.
On an end table was a picture of my mother and me, before she was diagnosed and grew sickly.
My memories of her were thin and wispy, growing harder to hold on to as the years passed.
Sometimes, I couldn’t decide if I truly remembered her at all or was influenced by the stories Dad told. I missed her every day.
In the photograph, I sat in her lap. A six-year-old boy cradled in her arms, cheek pressed to her chest as she read me a bedtime story. Charlotte’s Web. Dad said Olivia was never able to sit still for stories, but I would listen for hours.
Since I was damp from the rain, I decided to change. Collecting pajama bottoms and a worn T-shirt, I tossed them on the bed, only then noticing a handwritten note on my pillow. It was from Dad. I’m in the barn. There’s food in the fridge. Text me when you’re home, and I’ll come join you.
Dressed, I took my camera from its bag and carefully removed the film, bringing it to the darkroom to process later.
Olivia couldn’t understand why I didn’t use a digital camera like everyone else.
She thought having the ability to immediately preview pictures would be appealing, but I preferred the delayed gratification and the methodical process of developing prints.
Film photography was a dying art, but I intended to keep it alive.
Although I was eager to revisit the enormity of the afternoon, I was more excited to privately examine the pictures I’d taken of Ozrik. I would wait until no one was around, so I could enjoy them uninterrupted.
All I might have in this life were fantasies, dreams that frustrated me with their incompleteness and intangibility. A few photographs would be a guilty pleasure no one had to know about.
Later.
Aiming for the kitchen, I found a covered plate of food in the fridge.
Removing the foil, I discovered meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
Dad was all about simple comfort foods. After Mom died, he had been forced to learn to cook.
He wasn’t adventurous in the kitchen, and I remembered more than a dozen questionable meals growing up.
The products of trial and error. Over time, a few staples stuck and appeared on the menu regularly. Meat loaf was one of them.
I put the plate in the microwave, then collapsed onto a stool at the kitchen island and found my phone.
Now that I had a signal, I also had a dozen missed texts from Olivia, most of them expressing animosity toward Twisted Fates. A few gave me hell for wandering off, and one, near the end, asked if I was okay, questioning why I hadn’t messaged her back.
Anger seethed under my skin. “Really, Liv?”
I sent her a text, letting her know I was home in one piece, and while I constructed a strongly worded text demanding why she had abandoned me, my phone rang.
“That manipulative asshole,” she said the moment the call connected.
“You left me.” The microwave beeped.
“No we didn’t. You wandered off.”
“You left me behind, Olivia.”
“No. In the car, I realized you weren’t with us.
I went to find you, and Lex told me to take off.
We thought it was coming down right there.
Lex said Ozrik would grab you, and I should get my car and people out of danger because his stupid modified vehicle could withstand anything.
Fucking dick. Fucking Ozrik and his bullshit act of heroism.
He did that on purpose. I hate him. Do you know how bad we’re going to look?
CineVision is going to air that rescue drama. That’s why he did it.”
I stayed quiet as I collected my dinner and a fork, her words tumbling around my head. Had I been used as a pawn in this game? Was that the only reason Ozrik had pulled me from the field? Was that why the team had seemed reasonably nice? Was it for ratings and votes?
No. I couldn’t believe that. Running into the field was risky. Dangerous.
“You abandoned me.” It was worth repeating.
“Why were you so far away?”
“I… didn’t realize I was.”
“Gale, you can’t do that. You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were with us.”
I sat with my meal as she went on and on about the damage I’d caused, about how bad they would look once the clips were compiled and shown to viewers, and how this was a tick against the Wind Riders.
“You’re my brother. Do you know how bad that looks?”
But I couldn’t find it in myself to feel sorry for her.
She continued her rant. What had I been thinking? Why was I always so lost in my head? Couldn’t I see the funnel was descending? Was I paying attention at all? What the hell was I thinking?
Only when she ran out of steam did my well-being occur to her. Her tone softened. “Were they jerks?”
“No.”
“Gale.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Are you coming over? We’re at Roe’s.”
I paused as the weight of her question landed.
When I didn’t respond, she added, “We’re supposed to do a wrap-up, remember? All of us together. Talk about the run. Beginning to end. Come on, Gale, you were in that meeting. You heard what Charles said.”
“I can’t come tonight.” I didn’t tell her I was already in my pajamas.
“Gale.”
“No, Olivia. My battery is drained. Please don’t make me.”
Would she push? If she did, I would cave. She knew it too. Was this show more important than my mental health? Hating the neediness growing inside me, I diverted the conversation as I poked at my green beans.
“I think Ozrik has a crush on you.”
“What?” She laughed—loud and hyena-like. I moved the phone from my ear, grateful her anger had abated, yet heart-sore at admitting the truth.
“I caught a vibe.”
“Well,” she said once she calmed, “if he thinks this stunt was supposed to charm me, he’s dumber than I thought.
Besides, he’s so egotistical that it makes me want to vomit, and he’s a known player.
Rumor has it the guy fucks around and never gets serious.
No thank you. I won’t be a Devereaux statistic. ”
“Oh.” I had many, many questions but didn’t know how to ask them without drawing attention to myself.
Olivia reverted to her original line of inquiry. “We can’t do this recap without you. Get over here. Please.”
“No.”
A growl of frustration came through the line. “Why are you like this?”
I didn’t answer. Olivia shouldn’t have roped me into this nonsense to begin with.
“Fine. I’m glad you made it home in one piece.” She didn’t sound glad. “We’re tracking a system that is passing north of Wichita in about four or five days. I want your eyes on it, too.”
The bite of mashed potato I’d stuck into my mouth turned to cement as I swallowed. “Wichita? That’s Kansas.”
“I’m aware. I want you to watch the system and report developments. You’re the expert. If it smells promising, we’ll go.”
“But… to Kansas?”
“Yes, Gale. To Kansas. We’ll drive to Kansas. What’s the problem? That’s what we do.”
“I didn’t… How often do you do this? The running around. The chasing.”
“Do you know anything about my life?”
Do you know anything about mine? I wanted to say.
“Between late March and June? A lot. Dozens of chases, Gale. Dozens, so stop whining.”
“Oh.” I poked at my dinner, no longer hungry. “I want out.”
“Too bad.”
“Please, Olivia.”
“You signed a contract. We’re doing this.”
The patio door slid open, and my father came through. He seemed surprised to see me, and I realized I hadn’t texted to let him know I was home. He must have registered the anxious look on my face and frowned.
“I have to go. Dad’s here. We’re having dinner.”
“Watch that system.”
“Yeah.” I hung up, bitterly angry and exhausted.
“You look haggard.” Dad took a seat across from me.
“Long day.”
“You survived your first chase. Any luck?”