Weathering Stormy

by Auburn J. Kelly

  “You did good too, Jimmy.”

  ****

  Aside from the memories that echoed inside her skull, the old trailer was quiet as a tomb. Stormy rubbed her arms to ward off the chill that crept under her skin. It was a coldness that stayed with her these days, no matter what the temperature was outside, and she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever feel warm again.

  She settled herself onto the shabby old couch and brushed her hand over the thin polyester fabric. It was a pitiful-looking thing, with its sagging cushions and faded floral pattern in sickly greens and yellows…. It was hard to believe she’d once thought it was so grand. But, unsightly as it was, it had always been a fixture in her life. Wherever she and Mama went, that old beat up couch went too. It was something she always associated with home.

  So why did sitting on it feel so foreign to her now?

  She glanced around the room, surveying the sparse décor and minimal furnishings that needed to be dealt with. A bulky, outdated TV, a rickety coffee table that was bound for the trash heap, Mama’s old record player….

  Ugh. The record player. Stormy quickly squashed the tangle of memories it brought back. Some were good, but others…not so much.

  She shot up from the couch and headed to the kitchen, thinking it would be safer in there. After all, it was just dishes and cleaning supplies, right?

  The clean dishes still sat in the drying rack by the sink. The same way she’d left them that day. With a graduation to get ready for, she’d been in a hurry to get them washed, thinking that she’d put them away later.

  But later never came.

  Now, instead of tucking them away into the cupboards, she would be packing them away in boxes.

  Stormy’s lip began to quiver. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t have time for it. There was work to be done. So, she swallowed hard and grabbed one of the boxes she’d gotten from the alley behind the dollar store. Trying to block out her thoughts, she started packing up the contents of the cabinets. With trembling fingers, she grabbed the first plate from the cupboard and began to clumsily wrap it in newspaper. Somehow or other, the darn thing managed to slip from her hands and then shattered on the floor.

  Stormy stared vacantly at the jagged pieces of white and green ceramic. It was just like her. Broken, and no longer having a purpose. She glanced at the rest of the plates that were sitting on the shelf, stacked all nice and neat…like they were laughing at her.

  She grabbed another plate and dropped it to the floor. CRASH!

  Stupid!

  She smashed another one.

  Worthless!

  And another.

  Piece of Crap!

  They were all useless. The glasses, the pots and pans, the baking dishes…they didn’t matter anymore. Mama didn’t need them anymore.

  CRASH!

  Mama was gone. Stormy had no family left. She didn’t belong anywhere.

  She grabbed the pots.

  BANG! THUD!

  She was all alone.

  CRASH!

  Stormy’s arm was on the upswing with a glass bowl in her hand when Trudy walked through the front door. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Stormy froze. Her eyes were wild and she was panting heavily.

  “Don’t mind me.” Trudy gestured to the pile of broken glass and dented pans on the floor. “Carry on.”

  Stormy’s arm swung down. The bowl hit the floor…but it didn’t break. Still perfectly intact, it bounced across the floor and then spun around in a circle before coming to a rest next to the trash can.

  “Huh,” Trudy mused, “That sucker must be made of something stronger than all the rest. I thought sure it would shatter. But somehow it survived. Interesting.”

  Stormy bristled. The meaning wasn’t lost on her. She turned her fury on Trudy. “Oh, I get it. I guess that’s supposed to be a metaphor for me. Strong...a survivor. Whatever.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, which was strange considering how icy she felt on the inside. “Next you’ll be telling me that everything happens for a reason…and what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger…every cloud has a silver lining…or some other bullshit like that. Am I right?”

  She speared Trudy with a look of defiance, daring her to put up an argument…and it ticked her off further when Trudy didn’t say anything. She just stood there, her face blank, unreadable. She expected to see anger, hurt, or at least…pity. But there was none of that.

  “Well?” Stormy put her hands on her hips. “Come on. I know you’ve got some bit of wisdom you wish to impart. Go on. Give it to me.”

  The corners of Trudy’s mouth turned up in a small smile.

  A smile!

  Stormy couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “What could you possibly be smiling about?” Her voice was beginning to crack and that familiar lump was making its way up to her throat. “There’s nothing to smile about, Trudy.”

  The dam that was holding back the tears finally broke. “There’s nothing….” She stepped around the pile of broken glass and brushed past Trudy on her way to the porch. She slammed the old metal door and then collapsed into a heap right there on the dirty wooden steps.

  When she heard Trudy’s soft footsteps on the wooden planks she sat upright and pulled her knees up to her chest so she could wrap her arms around them. Trudy dusted some dried leaves and debris from the steps before sitting down beside her. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her jeans and began wiping Stormy’s face. “Oh, baby girl,” she said through a sigh, “I so wish you could see what I see when I look at you.” She tucked Stormy’s hair behind her ear. “I was smiling…because a little voice in my head told me that you’re going to be okay. Because you are strong, Stormy Black.”

  Stormy sniffed. “How could you know that? How can anything ever be okay? Mama’s gone. The only family I had. She was taken away from me. Everything always gets taken away from me. Right when I think things are getting better…that maybe things will be okay…swoosh! Somebody yanks the rug out from under me. Mama was going to get better. We were finally getting close again.” Her voice was strained, almost a croak, as another round of tears threatened to fall. “Why did this happen? Why now? Why would God let me believe things were going to be better…and then let her die? Was it all just a sick joke? Am I being punished for something? Please, Trudy. Help me understand because I’m totally lost right now.”

  ****

  Trudy squeezed her eyes shut while she said a silent prayer. She needed the right words. Something to help Stormy see through the muck and the misery she was drowning in.

  “He’s not punishing you, Stormy. God doesn’t work that way. I know it feels that way sometimes….” Trudy knew that for a fact. She’d been in that dark place…feeling lost, betrayed, and totally abandoned. And there was nothing that anyone could have said at the time to make her see beyond the hurt. Pain like that was blinding. It overwhelmed all of the other senses and blocked out things like logic and common sense. And it never fully went away. But it did become bearable…with time.

  “I know none of this makes any sense. And I know you don’t want to hear it…but what you said in the kitchen was true. There is a reason for everything, even if we don’t understand it. In times like these you have to learn to focus on what you do have, rather than what you’ve lost.”

  “I don’t have anything.” It was barely more than a whisper.

  “That’s not true, love. You have me. You have Nozz. And you’re going off to college in the fall…. You have your smarts and your ambition…” Trudy clutched Stormy’s hand, sandwiching it between her own, “…and most of all you’ve got heart. A great big heart with lots of love to give.”

  Some of the tension in Stormy’s frame seemed to relax a bit. Her shoulders—which had been hiked up to her ears—dropped down to their normal position and she was breathing more evenly. It wasn’t a miraculous recovery by any means, but it was an improvement. The girl was tough as nails. Trudy just wished there was a way to make her rea
lize it.

  Stormy leaned over and laid her head on Trudy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for taking my frustration out on you.”

  Trudy pulled her into her side and gave her a squeeze. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad the dishes took the brunt of it.”

  Stormy released a ragged breath and pulled away from Trudy’s hold on her, setting her gaze on the brown grass and overgrown weeds in the yard. “I can’t go back inside. I just can’t. I don’t want to be here. It’s too hard.”

  Trudy gave a slow nod and patted her knee. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’ll get Nozz over here tomorrow to help me pack everything up.”

  The look in Stormy’s eyes when she looked at her was soul-crushing and her body began to tremble. “You don’t understand, Trudy. I can’t be here anymore. In Yaupon. I have to get away. I just…I just….can’t be here.”

  Trudy cradled her against her chest and stroked her hair. Her poor, poor, conflicted girl. Her heart ached for her. “I understand, sweetie. I really do.” She rolled an idea around in her head for a minute. “I think I might have a solution for that.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The vacant trailer stared mockingly at Brylan as he leaned against the side of his car in the dusty driveway. He’d been there for over an hour, hoping to see Stormy’s old Ford bounding down the driveway. But when he looked through the naked windows at all of the clutter strewn all over the small living room, and saw the cardboard boxes stacked on the floor, he knew that she wasn’t coming back. At least not any time soon.

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, then ran them through his hair, frustrated and befuddled by the situation at hand. Where had she gone? And how had she left so quickly…and without a single word?

  It probably shouldn’t have surprised him that she hadn’t reached out. They hadn’t spoken since the funeral three weeks ago and things had been tense between them to say the least. But he never thought she would just vanish like that.

  There were so many things he wanted to tell her. But he had wanted to give her time. Time to grieve, time to think, and time to sort out her feelings. Like he’d been doing.

  But he’d waited too long. And now she was gone.

  What was he going to do with himself now? Wait and worry? Wonder if she was okay? The thought of never knowing what happened to her…it was too much. He’d already been through that once before. Was still going through it.

  The women he cared about were always leaving him. Was it some sort of curse?

  His mother. Becky. And now Stormy.

  It was too much, and it was causing a knot to form in his stomach. Brylan crossed his arms over his chest and looked toward the heavens, “Mom, if you’re listening, I could use a little help down here. Just give me a sign. Something. Anything.”

  Suddenly, something soft brushed against his ankle and startled him. A scrawny looking gray cat was looking up at him expectantly. He idly wondered if its sudden appearance had anything to do with his mom. It would be just like her to do something like that, although he couldn’t understand how the mangy thing was supposed to be of any help. Apparently her sense of humor was still intact…even in the afterlife.

  The cat purred loudly, rubbing itself against Brylan’s legs and arching its back, begging for attention. “Hey, buddy.” Brylan picked it up and stroked its grimy fur. “You could use a bath.”

  A dull rumble drew his attention toward the road. Brylan shielded his eyes against the setting sun, hoping beyond hope as his heart galloped in his chest. Could it be her?

  The sun glinted off the vehicle, making it all but impossible to make out until it turned down the driveway and headed in his direction.

  His heart sank at the realization that it wasn’t Stormy’s truck. It was silver, an older model Pontiac. He didn’t recognize the car…but he’d know that shaggy, dishwater blond mop anywhere.

  Nozz pulled up beside Brylan’s car, windows open and music blaring while he sang, off key, at the top of his lungs.

  He hopped out and extended his hand to Brylan. “Hey, Coach.”

  Brylan shook his hand, perplexed as to why he was there. He sure didn’t want to be the one to break the news that Stormy was gone. He knew that Stormy and Nozz were tight.

  He decided to open with the obvious. “New car?”

  “Yeah. Just got it.”

  “Nice.”

  “It gets me where I need to go.” He pushed his hair back. “I see that you found Smokey.”

  Brylan had almost forgotten about the cat in his arms until it started wriggling, trying to get free. “Is that his name?”

  “Yeah, well, at least that’s what Stormy called him. He’s a stray that showed up last week when Stormy was packing up to leave.”

  Huh. So he knew.

  The surprise must have been evident on his face by the way Nozz’s expression turned grim. “Oh, shoot. Sorry, Coach. Guess you didn’t know.”

  Brylan set his jaw, barely able to maintain his composure. Nozz had known she was leaving, but he hadn’t bothered to tell him. He didn’t know if he was more hurt, or pissed off. They were supposed to be friends. How could he keep something like that from him? “No. Nobody bothered to tell me,” he said sourly.

  Nozz looked down at the ground, obviously unable to look Brylan in the eye. “Stormy wouldn’t let me tell you.”

  “What? What do you mean she wouldn’t let you?”

  “She said for me to leave it alone. Asked me not to tell you anything about her plans.” Nozz raked a hand through his wild mane of blond hair again and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. Brylan sensed that he was nervous, like maybe there was more to it than he was letting on.

  “So, that’s it then…she left…and she didn’t want me to know anything about it?” Brylan wasn’t really talking to Nozz, but rather to himself. It just didn’t seem rational. He and Stormy had been through a lot, but he still hoped that she considered him a friend. They’d been through too much shit together for her to just blow him off…disappear forever without so much as a goodbye or a kiss-my-ass…something. Anything would have been better than this.

  “You can’t at least give me a clue? Did she go on to San Marcos? Did she—”

  “I can’t tell you anything, Bry,” Nozz shot at him.

  Brylan was taken aback by the sudden animosity and the sharpness of his tone. Plus, it was the first time he’d called him anything other than Mr. Knight or Coach. Something was definitely off about the whole thing. Either Nozz wasn’t being totally forthcoming…or else Stormy really didn’t want to be found. Both ways spelled a loss for Brylan.

  Maybe the kid was just upset about her leaving, just like he was. The two of them were thick as thieves, and Nozz had always been good to Stormy. He’d always been a good friend to Brylan too for that matter.

  He supposed that the guy was entitled to a little leeway…a very little leeway.

  “So, what brought you way out here if you knew she was gone already?”

  Nozz pointed to the gray heap of fur at Brylan’s feet. “I came to feed Smokey. Stormy made me promise…since she couldn’t take him with her.”

  It seemed that Stormy made Nozz promise a lot of things.

  Brylan mulled over an idea for a minute, and then it cemented in his mind. There was one more thing he could do for Stormy, whether she cared or not. Either way, it seemed like the right thing to do.

  “What if I just take him home with me?”

  Nozz’s eyebrows drew together, uncertainty swirling in his eyes. “Are you sure? I didn’t know you liked cats.”

  “Sure I do. Plus, the little guy looks like he needs some TLC. I’ll take him to the vet and get him all fixed up…and cleaned up.” The cat looked up at Brylan as if it could understand what he was saying, brushing himself against Brylan’s legs again, purring like a little motor. He was a sweet little thing, but ugly as homemade soap in his current state. Brylan hoped a good scrub would take care of that.

  “What about Pa
m? Is she going to be okay with having a cat around?”

  Brylan gave Nozz a pointed look, “Pam’s not a concern of mine. Not anymore.”

  Nozz wasn’t the only one who could be cryptic.

  “Oh,” was Nozz’s only response.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go on home. No point in sticking around here.” Brylan picked up the cat and put him on the backseat of his car, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t claw the seats…or worse. “You still moving in with your brother?” he asked, after closing the door. Smokey curled up on the seat and looked at him through the window, his yellow eyes enlarging and looking anxiety ridden. Brylan hoped his decision to take him wouldn’t bite him in the ass.