“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.” Ozriktsked. “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 withabusefor 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 himdefensive. 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.”
