Gale #2
Ozrik shrugged. “I rarely drink. Fucked up for a guy in his twenties, right? I’m not against it. I’d love to let loose and get shit-faced, but I have to keep my head in the game around my mother.”
“Oh.” The simple sentence had many layers, but I understood enough about his situation that he didn’t need to elaborate.
“So.” Ozrik sat taller and stabbed the ice cubes in his glass with a straw. “You were out chasing storms without me?”
“Not willingly. Believe me. I would have happily stayed home and read my book.”
“Only you would choose Dickens over storms.”
“I’ve moved past Dickens. Onto Steinbeck. We saw another tornado, by the way.”
“Vern told me. Do you know how jealous I am? Was it better than ours?”
I shrugged. “About the same. Lex got us closer. Maybe a half mile out. I rode in the bug. He let me ride up front. Less crowded.”
“Lex must like you. That’s the hot seat, and it’s usually Elliott’s spot.”
“Elliott volunteered to go with Olivia. He helps keep Jazz in line.”
“Is he still being an asshole?”
“Always.”
“I’m going to kick his ass someday.”
“No you aren’t. He’s not worth it.”
“What’s on the agenda this week?”
“Too much.” I sipped my drink. “We’re supposed to head to Kansas tomorrow.
Somewhere near Dodge City, I think. Two back-to-back systems are moving through in the evening.
Then back here for a string of storms early next week.
We’re keeping an eye on development in Nebraska, too, but I don’t know if Charles will send us that far.
Of course, the forecast changes hourly, so who knows.
I can’t wait until it’s over. I’m going to escape to the woods for a couple of weeks and bask in solitude and sunshine. ”
Ozrik played with his lime wedge as he studied me. “Just you and Steinbeck?”
“And my camera.”
“Would you be opposed to company?”
I smirked. “Depends. What kind of company?”
“Boyfriend company?”
My cheeks warmed. “I only have a one-man tent.”
“Excellent. I don’t need much space. Although I tend to sleep naked in this heat, especially without air-conditioning. Will that be a problem?”
“I can leave my pajamas at home.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ozrik’s foot found mine under the table, and it felt good and natural. He made me feel human. He gave me a sense of bravery I had never known. When I was with Ozrik, life felt simple. The storms inside me calmed.
The focus of the article slapped me in the face, and I jolted upright. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“The Storm Whisperer.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s you. Your connection. I… Never mind. I need to think more.”
“I’m confused. I thought we were talking about camping.”
I wanted to explain, but didn’t know how.
Since our meals had yet to arrive, I diverted his attention, sharing what I knew about the progress of the show and how we’d done a group interview after chasing down our first official tornado in Arkansas.
The one in Tulsa didn’t count since we hadn’t recorded it.
“We had a video call with Charles after. He said they’ve compiled roughly four episodes. It sounds piecemeal, but I have a concept of how this stuff works. When it’s complete, he said we would be invited to the studio to preview the pilot. He sounded excited.”
“Did the drama vanish with my absence?”
I smirked. “No. My sister has been having it out with Jazz daily. He’s been… mouthy. She told him he would’ve been kicked off the team if it was up to her. Charles lets it happen. Also, I think Vern and Maggie are dating.”
“I caught that vibe in Tulsa.” Ozrik tsked. “Colluding with the enemy. I guess I’m not the only one.”
A guy wearing a stained apron exited the kitchen with two heaping plates of food. He set them down and narrowed his eyes at Ozrik. “I hear you were sick.”
“Word gets around.”
“Why?” The question carried a sharp edge.
Ozrik rolled his eyes and reached for the saltshaker. “It’s a germy world out there, Chucky. I must have licked a dirty table while in Tulsa. Not everyone’s as meticulous about hygiene as Bobby.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be. I got sick all by myself. Shocking, I know. It happens.”
“You better not be lying. I’ll march over there and have a word with her right now if I have to.”
“No need. Stella wasn’t at fault for a change. I swear. I wasn’t even home when it happened.”
Chucky propped his hands on his hips and seemed to be trying to decide whether he believed Ozrik or not.
“All right,” he eventually said. “But if I find out differently…” He arched a brow.
“We’re good, man. I promise.”
Seeming satisfied, Chucky retreated to the kitchen.
“Is this normal?” I asked when the swinging doors settled.
“Sadly, yes. Bobby and Chucky both went to school with my mother. They, well, the whole town really, don’t know if they feel sorry for Stella because she’s mentally unstable or are angry because she’s gotten away with abuse for years.
” He put the word abuse in air quotes, as though the notion was ridiculous.
“They don’t understand why I stick around,” he continued.
“They’re… protective. It’s hard to be angry with people who have my safety and well-being at heart, but it’s suffocating when your whole life is under a town-wide microscope.
Everyone tells me what to do, but no one gets it.
I didn’t ask for this, but it is what it is. ”
Ozrik focused on his food. I’d noticed from a few of our conversations how the subject of his mother tended to make him defensive.
Yet at the same time, he acted equally annoyed and joked about his circumstances.
Ozrik’s situation oddly paralleled how I imagined it would be to be openly gay in town.
A complete lack of privacy while enduring everyone’s constant opinions and judgment about how you chose to live your life.
The whole time, wishing everyone would mind their business.
Ozrik dressed his fries with a layer of ketchup. Tiny lines of strain pulled at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m never sure what to say when you talk about your mom.”
He studied his fingernails and shrugged.
“Don’t sweat it. Things are going to change soon.
Somehow, I’m going to convince her to see the doctor again.
She doesn’t like him, but I figure if I promise to stick around and stop running, maybe she’ll be less afraid.
I need to own that I might be part of the problem. ”
Ozrik shifted and coughed, then abruptly changed the subject. “Tell me about Steinbeck. What book are you reading?”
It was clear he didn’t want to talk about his mother anymore.