Page 47 of Out of the Storm

Her words struck with the force of a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him. Lightheaded, Gary reached out to clutch the doorframe. Dawn kept talking, but her voice was faraway, and for the life of him, Gary couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. Instead, every second, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.

Even though Gary hadn’t seen his father in over twenty years, a part of him had still held on to the hope for reconciliation. And, God, he hadn’t even let himself see that before now. Before that hope had been taken away.

Dawn’s hand came to rest atop Gary’s forearm, and reality slowly came back into focus.

“What do you think you’ll do with the money?” she asked.

Gary shook his head. “Money?”

“Like I said, from the will.”

“I...” Gary choked on his words, his mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara. “What will?”

“We’re all he had. Well, not like he reallyhadus either,” she said with a grimace. “Mom never told me where he was.”

Mom never told her? What strange phrasing that was. Did Dawn mean to imply that their mom knew? All this time? Gary wanted to ask, but he couldn’t make the words come. Another time, maybe he’d have the courage to open that can of worms, to find out the truth. But not now. Not today.

“Anyway, I think I’ll save it for the kids,” she said. “Maybe I can pay for their college.”

Wordlessly, Gary nodded, staggering back a step.

“Do you have to leave already? I thought I could show you everything from the lawyer.”

“Radio” was all Gary managed to say.

Dawn sighed. “Great, Gare. Run away. Like always.”

If Dawn’s news about their father had been a sledgehammer, this insult was a battering ram, and it took everything Gary had not to crumple in on himself when the force of Dawn’s words slammed into him. He stood there, silently wishing he could tell her that he’d never intended to separate himself from the family, only from pain, from conflict. He’d only been trying to protect himself. Because ever since his father had left, he’d been contending with the near-constant worry that he’d somehow lose the rest of his family too.

When he was with them, it was painful.

Because they fought.

Because they were broken.

Because,even thoughthey fought,even thoughthey were broken, Gary still loved his family. He loved them, and he never wanted to lose them.

When the next breeze blew by, bringing with it the scent of lilacs and pine, Gary took a long inhale through his nose to try to remind himself that time had passed and things had changed and he was a man now. And yet, this time, he found no reprieve from the sorrow. Sorrow he still felt from having lost his father when he was a child. And then, from losing his mother too, from heartbreak. And now, from losing his father in a new way. In the most final way.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much had changed, some things had stayed the same. Maybe even now, in his thirties, Gary was still the same little boy. Scared. Heartbroken. Alone.

Eyes brimming with tears, Gary turned away.

“See you later, sis,” he said, his voice shaking as he hurried to his bike.

“Bye, Gare,” Dawn replied, her voice wrought with what sounded like sorrow.

Gary took off for home.

The trip was a blur of trees he couldn’t admire this time, grass and flowers he couldn’t smell. And after he got home and parked his bike and headed inside, he walked over to the studio room in a daze. He couldn’t make himself sit in his chair. His heart was aching, his mind racing, his body trembling. Oh, how he wished he had someone to talk to, someone to hold him, someone to say “I’m here, Gare. I’ll take over the show tonight. Lie down and I’ll make you some coffee.” But the only person Gary could think of who he even wanted to be with was Jeff. And Jeff was...

Jeff wasn’t even his.

Standing in the threshold, Gary stared out the window, watching the wind chimes blow in the breeze. With only a couple of minutes left before showtime, he turned and left for the bedroom. He’d have to settle for being alone.

***

Gary bolted awake when there was a loud clatter from the kitchen, something that sounded like things from the drying rack—pots and pans and silverware—falling onto the tile floor. Hands shaking, Gary fumbled to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand and then switched on the bedside lamp. Was someone breaking in? Gary crept toward the closet to retrieve his baseball bat, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, his mind working furiously totry to comprehend what was happening. The moment his hand found the bat’s wooden handle, Jeff’s voice came from the hall.

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