A Storm Together

I knew I should have gone to the store yesterday, Bob thought to himself. No matter, he was headed home now to wait out the storm that he knew was coming. 

“The National Weather Service has announced a tornado warning for the following counties-”

Static killed the rest of it. He tapped the radio with his clenched fist. That never works. 

He sighed audibly and grumbled aloud “Oh I know there’s something coming.” 

He was a retired farmer in his early seventies, bald, short of stature, and stocky.

His dog Chester, a black lab, apparently agreed and let out a whimper in the backseat. They were about fifteen minutes from home now. A short ride. It was about four in the afternoon. The sky was clear but not for long he thought. There’s a certain intuition you develop having been a wheat farmer in Oklahoma for thirty odd years. His bones had become weather vanes, or at least that’s what he would tell you. The degree of pain he felt in his arthritic left knee was a direct indicator of the weather about to turn south. 

And sure enough, things changed quickly. The sky quickly changed from a blue to an ominous grey. Rain. The hail might not be far off Bob thought. He sped up. Up ahead he saw someone walking on the side of the road. “Alright Chester, lets go pick up this poor schmuck.” 

He pulled his pickup truck over and rolled down the window. The schmuck was a rather tall man in his early thirties with straw blond hair. He was wearing a button down shirt and jeans. Bob hollered out the window, “C’mon on I’ll give you a lift.” 

“Thank goodness”, the stranger replied. He climbed in and Bob wasted no time speeding off before turning over to his passenger and introducing himself. 

“Name’s Bob.” 

“Oh nice to meet you, it’s Paul.” 

“Thank goodness you happened to come by. I was driving through to visit a friend when my car broke down about a mile that way.” He gestured behind them. “I tried to call a car service, no reception, of course.”

“Bah, cell phones, useless when you need them most. No, things are going to be a little spotty out here for the next little bit or so. There’s a storm coming. It’ll be quick though.”

The rain was picking up now. He took a left-hand turn onto a long gravel driveway. At the end of it was a two floor colonial house. 

Bob parked the car into the garage. Got out and opened the back door. Out came Chester, like an escaped convict he darted and disappeared into the open door in the garage that led inside to the house. 

“Chester, he doesn’t like storms.” Bob chuckled pleasantly. He grabbed the couple bags of groceries, shut the back door of the truck. And turned to Paul “Well come on in!” 

Paul stumbled out of the truck, his clothes wet from the rain. 

“Oh where are my manners? Looks like you got soaked pretty good. Let me get you another shirt. Have a seat, help yourself to anything.” He marched upstairs to find a shirt for his guest. 

Paul walked around. It’s a nice house, he thought. Clean, well-lit with big windows. Well it would be if the sun were out. It was now officially dark outside. And the rain was picking up in intensity. 

He turned the corner to the living area. A large stone fire place. On the mantle a picture of Bob in his younger years with a pretty, dark-haired woman. He stared at it for a moment and lost track of time. 

Before he knew it Bob returned. “Here’s a towel too. This might not fit great but hey, at least it’s dry.” 

“Thanks, where’s your restroom?” 

“Oh up the stairs and to the left.” 

“Thanks.” 

Paul climbed the stairs, they were creaky. Looks like an old house he thought. 

Meanwhile, Bob sat on the couch while staring into the stone, hard, and cold fireplace. He had poured himself a drink. Bourbon. His guest returned minutes later. 

“That’s my wife Margaret. Or that was her. She’s dead. Three years now.” 

“Oh I’m terribly sorry to hear that. I noticed her picture earlier while I was looking around. Hope you didn’t mind.” 

“No, not at all.” 

A sudden pelting noise. Outside, giant glass marbles were falling in sheets. 

“Oh boy. Here comes the hail. You know what, we'd better go downstairs to the cellar just to be safe. These things can take out windows.” 

He shuffled over to the corner of the living room where he found Chester wedged between the wall and sofa. His tail sticking out like a sore thumb. 

“Anytime there’s a storm he turns into a cat.” They both laughed. 

“C’mon boy let’s go to the cellar.” He dragged Chester from the couch and led him away. He turned to Paul and said, “We'll sit down in the cellar and wait for it to pass. It won’t be long. Follow me.” 

Bob disappeared around the corner and Paul followed. He opened the cellar door but not before grabbing the bottle of bourbon and another glass.”We might need this!”

He opened the door. Chester led the way, scampering down the stairs and nearly tripping Bob before disappearing around the corner to find a new hiding spot. A musty, dank smell greeted as they went down the creaky steps, Paul having to really hunch over as the ceiling was low. The lighting was dim at best the only source being a small, orange light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 

They made it down the stairs and Bob showed him around the corner where there were a couple of old chairs next to a wood table. 

“You’ll have a drink?” 

“Ah I probably shouldn’t but why not?”

Bob poured him one while he downed his own. 

Paul took a sip and felt the fire enter his belly. It was good bourbon. “So what brings you to this flat, old state? Or are you from near here?”

“Ha no actually I’m from back east originally. Connecticut. I was in real estate for a few years then got out. Couldn’t stand it after a while.” 

Bob held out his hand for a moment and listened intently. An emergency siren was wailing outside. And the hail was still pelting away. “Hmm good thing we came down here I think.” 

“Anyways you were saying?” 

“Well I was from Connecticut originally then moved out to Minnesota after I found another job.” 

“Any family?”

“Yeah, a wife Elizabeth and a daughter Jessie.”

“I’m sorry for asking all these questions. Margaret and I never had kids. One of those things I guess you know? It just never happened.” 

Paul nodded his head and emptied his drink. 

“Here, have another.”

“I know that feeling.” 

“What’s that?”, Bob asked. 

“Time. It’s weird isn’t it? So I’m actually driving through here to visit a friend of mine. She's an old fling I guess you’d say. It’s been almost ten years now and we stumbled upon each other over the computer and got to talking. I think the more time that passes the more you tend to romanticize things gone bye. It’s a strange thing.”

“Heh. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

“Time, really what is it anyway?” Paul downed his second drink. A crash outside. 

“Shit. Sounds like I’ll be fixing the shed tomorrow.” He poured himself another. 

“It’s a totally stupid idea really. I don’t know why I’m out here. Seeing someone I haven’t seen in a decade. What was I thinking? Maybe it’s one of those mid-life things.” 

“Huh?” 

“You know where you kind of find yourself living one way and you have a moment and wonder what could have been if this or that had happened instead.”

“I prefer to keep things simple. Everything happens for a reason. Life is too damned complicated to think about what-ifs”, Bob replied. 

“Keep it simple stupid eh?” Paul chuckled to himself. 

Bob smiled. “Well why not keep things simple?” 

Outside the tempest continued. A crash and shattering of broken glass sounded above. 

“And there goes the kitchen window. Holy hell it's like the one we had fifteen years ago all over again carbon copy. I told ya! It’s a good thing we’re down here. Speaking of time. Fifteen years ago I tell ya it goes by real fast.” 

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Paul pointed to an old gun hanging on the wall in a glass case. 

“Oh, that old thing. That’s a Winchester Rifle from the Civil War. A family heirloom from my great-great grandfather.” 

“Does it work?” 

“Sure does. Would you believe it still fires straight and true. I use it to go squirrel hunting on Saturdays.” 

Paul stared at him, his mouth agape. 

Bob let out a loud laugh. “Haha. Imagine someone using a darn near two hundred year old gun to go squirrel hunting. I got ya good!” 

“I feel like a total idiot. Yes, you got me.” 

Just about a half-hour had passed by now. 

“Reckon it’s clear by now. Let’s go take a look.” Bob climbed up the stairs and Paul followed. Chester followed as soon as the cellar door was opened and pranced his way through the kitchen. 

Bob grabbed a broom and was sweeping away some broken glass. Paul took a quick look outside. They were lucky. Not all that much damage aside from an old shed that was now tilted on its side. A panel from the roof of it or what looked like it had been swept away a few dozen feet. 

“Can I help?” Paul asked. 

“Ah, this is nothing. Well I don’t suppose you have a window pane on you by chance? Hehe.” 

Done sweeping, Bob took a look outside. 

“Eh not bad. It was about time for that shed anyways. It was older than me.” 

“I’ve got reception,”Paul declared inspecting his phone. 

Chester was running around the yard equal parts excited and curious. Bob was busy picking up some debris from the old shed. He looked up at him. 

“Hey, how about we go take a look at your car and then maybe get a bite to eat downtown?” 

“That sounds like a plan. Let me make a call.” 

Paul stumbled around evidently still feeling the effects of the old bourbon on an empty stomach. He managed to dial a number on his phone.

 “Mindy! How are you? Listen, I’m gonna be late. I ran into an old friend.”