Page 3 of Out of the Storm

“Did you know that gum used to be made from the latex of sapodilla trees?” he asked, eager to both maneuver around her question and focus on something other than the incessant sound of mastication. “Until the 1960s. Or thereabouts. Now we make it with resin and wax and elastomers and all sorts of crud like that.” He paused and faked a shudder. “Yuck.”

She simply blew a bubble in response.

“You’re chewing on plastic,” he deadpanned.

Lisa nodded a couple of times like maybe she was reconsidering her habit, but then she smiled and said, “You’re so smart, Professor Graham.”

Unease rolled through his body, nearly making him shudder for real. “Uhm, thanks.”

“I like a smart man.”

Blowing out a breath, Gary fumbled for a response. “Uh...well... lucky for you, there are plenty of intelligent students to choose from here at Kent State.”

“Do you have—”

A girlfriend? A wife? Someone special?Nowaywas he letting her finish that thought.

“—somewhere to be?” he interrupted, throwing on his parka. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have a very important matter to attend to, so...”

“Okay,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “See you Tuesday, then.”

He flashed an overly exaggerated smile. “Yup, Tuesday!”

Eager to be just about anywhere else, Gary spun around and rushed toward the emergency exit to the classroom. When he pushed it open, a cold wind blew past, sending some of his wavy brown hair into his face. He raked a hand through it to push it back, a feeble attempt to fix what Mother Nature had mussed up. Wrapping himself up in a hug, he walked to the bike rack, and then, with fingers that were already half-frozen, he fought to unlock his bike.

Thankfully, the subsequent forty-five-minute ride back to his home in Niles provided plenty of time to try to push the conversation with Lisa from his mind. He needed to be in the right headspace to run his radio show, which was supposed to start in less than an hour.

Forty minutes before he was scheduled to be on the air, Gary zoomed up the driveway to his one-story home and parked his bike in the garage. Once inside, his frozen hands began to thaw, enabling him to throw together his favorite meal—a pre-prepared vegetable burger with a side of peas. He practically inhaled it as he scanned theTribune Chroniclefor potential news.

After he’d finished, Gary walked into the studio room and was just about to get settled at his desk when he heard someone honk their horn out front. He headed over to the window and glanced outside to see Jenny Lane, one of his loyal listeners who lived a few houses away, idling outside in her beige sedan. Grinning, he threw open the window.

“Heya, Jenny!” he called out.

“Hi, Gare! Just on my way into town, and I wanted to make a request!”

“Yeah! Sure!”

Gary’s chest warmed, happiness bubbling up inside of him. Gosh, what a treat it was to run the local station in a little city like Niles, where people could shout out requests from the roadside!

“Any chance you could play some Pink Floyd?”

“Yeah! Of course! I’ll throw on a couple of songs when I’m finished with the news! How’s that?”

“Perfect! See ya, Gare!”

“Bye!”

Gary closed the window, his heart full and happy. Sitting in front of the control board, he rubbed his hands together and took a couple of breaths to clear his head and ready himself for the show. After fiddling with the knobs, Gary cleared his throat.

And then, he was live.

“Goooood afternoon, folks! Gary Graham here with WKBR, the station that seeks to be the perfect start and end for each and every one of your days here in Niles, Ohio. Now, we’ll begin our evening program,Tell Me S’more, with our conversation topic, and then we’ll move on to news and weather, and of course, we’ll play some of your favorite tunes. So, tell me, what’s everyone’s favorite flavor of chewing gum? I have to say, I’ve never cared for the stuff, but I’d love to hear your thoughts. Call the station at 555-YUMM with two M’s for your chance to tell the worldyourpersonal preference. Once again, that’s 555-9866...”

Hours later, Gary signed off for the evening. Stretching to work out the knots and kinks that had formed from sitting for so long, Gary let out a mixture of a yawn and a groan. Boy, was he tired. Tired enough that he could barely resist the urge to rethink his crazy schedule. But luckily, there wasn’t enough time to rethink it, really, because in only six hours, he’d have to wake up andpop on the radio for his morning program,Graham’s Flour Hour(which was three hours long, incidentally), and then he’d be off to the college for a while, only to have to race back home for the evening program. And so on and so forth. Again and again and—yup—again. On weekdays, anyway.

Barely time to breathe. Barely time to think.

Which was pretty perfect for trying to stave off the loneliness.

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