TATER

She glanced with disappointment at the reflection staring back at her in her kitchen window.  The heat and humidity of  the afternoon had seriously deflated the orange can curls she had struggled to create, and sleep on the night before.  She frowned a bit and sighed.  Nothing she seemed to do to add body to her fine hair, ever amounted to the glamour of the Jackie O’s of this world.  She could own the worlds finest collection of rat combs and cases of Aqua Net, and still have limp hair when she craved body.  It hadn’t helped that her two lovely girls had decided to wait until the last minute to inform her that they needed to  bake two cakes to bring to the Girl Scout cake walk fundraiser the following day.  The hottest day of the early summer, and they were baking cakes.  Even two cans of Aqua Net couldn’t have survived the heat in her kitchen.

She brushed back her limp bangs with the back of her hand, as not to add insult to injury and get cake batter in her tresses.

Girls?  You need to help straighten the kitchen before we get ready to ice those, those layers need to cool off a bit more anyway.

Okay mama. 

Her eldest said.  The two girls tied their aprons back on and started wiping down the kitchen counters, and helping their mother with the dishes.

If you all had not waited until the last moment to tell me about these cakes, you could of been out playing with your friends instead of cleaning this hot kitchen.

Yes ma’am. they replied in unison.  They knew their mother was a bit put out, and it was best to humor her.  It was their fault that they couldn’t be out with the other kids playing Kick the Can, but it still felt like a punishment nonetheless.

Your brothers are out there haven a good ‘ole time, and here we are like three old wet hens scratching in the flour.  What kind of icing do you all want for these layers?

Chocolate!  Her youngest daughter said.  It was her stock answer.  She may have been the most creative of her children, but the creativity seemed to be stuck in C when it came to anything sweet.

I want a lemon creme frosting for my cake.  Last sale we had, my cake sold first.  They all love our lemon creme, mama.

She smiled at her daughter, but was laughing to herself.  This one knew which way the wind blew, and would always know the right things to say at the right time.

Chocolate and lemon creme it is then.  Honey reach in the drawer there and get me the  attachment for the hand mixer.

The light that was flooding into the kitchen dimmed suddenly, and all three heads turned in unison to look out the kitchen window.  The lawn was in shadow.  They looked up and stared as the black clouds blotted out the last of the blue sky.

Honey, switch on the transistor radio for me, okay?  She looked out the window and craned her head to look down the street.  No sign of her boys.  She let out a worried sigh, and crossed the kitchen to tune in the news channel.

Honey?

Yes mama?

Go out and ring the dinner bell for your brothers.  Ring it good and loud.

Those boys don’t have the sense God gave a goose sometimes.  She thought silently.  She crossed the kitchen and picked up the telephone to dial her friend Mary.

Are my boys over your way?

I don’t see them, the kids were over by the school.  I’m sure they’re on their way home though.  Lord it’s looking terrible outside.  I’m going to head out and see if Lori is on her way home, and will look for your boys, okay, hon?

Thank you, I would appreciate it.

She turned her full attention to the radio, as she heard the words “Thunderstorm warning...Hail...Tornado watch”

She felt like the floor had dropped out beneath her, as she struggled to stay calm in front of her daughters.  She left the kitchen and went out the front door.  Before she could get to the sidewalk, she felt the hailstones begin to bounce down around her.  She ran back to the cover of the front stoop and screamed for her boys.

The fury of the hailstones drowned out her voice.  She felt her daughter grab her arm.

MOMMA!  THE MAN ON THE RADIO SAID TO SEEK COVER IMMEDIATELY!

Her daughter pulled on her, trying to drag her inside.

She pulled back her arm in indecision.  She wanted to run out for her boys, but couldn’t leave her daughters alone.  SHIT!  She cried.  SHIT SHIT SHIT!

The hail slowed, and the sky had taken on a green hue.

Grab your sister!  I want both of you to get in the hall closet with the radio, like we did for the other storms, and I want you to STAY PUT! 

DO YOU HEAR ME?

But what about you?

I’ll be in in a minute, I have to try and find your brothers!

Maybe they’re at Mary’s by now.

Before she could reply, she heard the eerie scream of the air raid siren from the roof of the school.  She looked towards the horizon and almost choked, as the funnel cloud began to form.  She grabbed her daughter and ran into the house, slamming the door.

Get in the closet NOW!  I’m calling Mary, and will be right behind you!

Her hand fumbled as she grabbed at the hand set, sending it thudding to the floor.

DAMN SAM! 

Her fingers hit the rotary telephone and frantically spun the dial.  With her free hand she jerked up the handset by the chord and waited for Mary to answer.

She waited, and waited.  6 rings.  She could hear the fury of the twister, as if it were already engulfing them.  She slammed down the handset and ran to the closet and joined her babies.  She sank to her knees, as the tears came, and said the lord’s prayer.

She hugged her daughters to her in the darkness and begged her God for his protection.  She told herself over and over that her boys were safe inside a neighbor’s home, that someone with sense had grabbed them up and taken them to safety.  She repeated it in her head as a mantra, as the storm howled and buffeted her home.  She kissed her daughters and held them to her, telling them that everything was going to be alright.

All three of them sharing the notion that her words amounted to nothing but a hollow wish.

TBC

He felt his little brother’s arm slip around his waist, and he looked down into depths of those large, chestnut eyes.  so large on that 5 year old face, an angelic, alabaster complexion, sprinkled with a constellation of fine brown freckles.  He saw fear there, and he ruffled the mop of brown hair.

I will get you home safe and sound, okay?

I’m not a baby.  His reply, more a question than an affirmation.

No, I think you’re pretty brave, especially for your first hailstorm.

His little brother looked out at all the hailstones in the grass.

You think we could pack em together and make a snowball?

I don’t think so, but you might make an ice ball.

His little brother was curious about snow, and had only really seen it on television, it being far too warm most winters to see anything but the occasional flurry.

He looked up at the sky again, as his brother bent down to examine a few chunks of ice.

It’s already melting.

He mumbled a reply, but was transfixed by the sky.  The hail had stopped, the gusts had quieted a bit, and the heavens had turned an eery shade of pea green.  He reached for his brother but was interrupted by an ear splitting moan, shrieking from the school roof.

His brother grabbed at his shirt, and practically scaled his body.

WHAT’S THAT NOISE!?

Duck and cover.  Duck and cover.

AIR RAID SIREN!

He ran to the doors of the school and tried them.  Locked.

He looked at the safety glass and his next idea was rendered useless.  He looked out at the storm clouds and noticed the rotation that was coalescing into a frightening spiral.  Duck and cover.  His heart pounding, his mind screaming RUN, he clutched his little brother to him and frantically tried to remember his mother’s tornado stories.

Duck and cover.  Seek low ground, she had told him.  A roadside ditch, a hollow, anything.

RUN!

He yanked his brother into motion, and made a bee line for the subdivision construction site their parents had forbade them to play in.  He smelled ozone, felt like someone had sucked out his breath and popped his ears, as they experienced the massive pressure drop in the atmosphere.  He could see the funnel cloud reaching down like a pudgy finger, and could hear the ripping clatter of destruction and debris, even though it seemed far enough away to outrun.

Perhaps he could of made it home in time if he were by himself.  His brother’s little legs were already tiring by the time they made it to the site.  He quickly scanned the area, and ran towards the nearest poured foundation.  He scrambled down the wall of muddy  earth, pulling his brother down behind him.

I wanna go HOME!

His brother was crying now, the tears creating muddy deltas on his freckled cheeks.

We can’t make it in time!  Get down here!  NOW!

He could hear the nauseating fury of the twister as it raced and skipped towards them, a swirling black mass of debris, a freight train of sickening decibels, as if someone had poured a bucket of marbles down a disposal and amplified it.  He  witnessed a tree ripped from the ground like a handful of dry grass, and burst into a cyclone of splinters and leaves.

He pushed his brother down into the crevice between the earth and the cement foundation and threw himself over him.  Both of them a cocoon, curled into fetal position with their hands over their heads, just as the filmstrips at school had instructed them to do during a nuclear attack.  He heard his brother whimpering, and felt his sobs.  He wanted to join him but knew he must be brave.

Time was suspended, as he waited for the tornado to finish  them.  His mind like a silent 8mm film, was reliving moments from his 9 year old life.  He remembered exploring plum creek with his sisters, as they pretended to be Daniel Boone.  He remembered the family trip to Colorado, and the grandeur of Estes Park.  He remembered snuggling in his parent’s bed with the whole family, as daddy read “Twas the Night Before Christmas”.  He remembered the day his mother came home from the hospital with his brand new, pudgy cheeked, baby brother.  How elated he had felt to have a brother to share his room with, and take the edge off his bossy sisters.  He thought of Susie, his beagle/hound mutt, and all the times she had comforted him after a whipping, or a fight, when he dare not show his tears to another soul.  He imagined his mother was with them in this dark place, cradling and comforting them, telling him to be brave.  He hoped that if one of them had to die today, God would choose him and not his baby brother.

He cried along with his brother now, and put his mouth close to his ear.

I love you.

He took his hand and held it as the roaring fury seemed to overtake and consume their hiding place.  He closed his eyes, and his mind.  He felt the warmth spreading down his legs as his bladder let go, and then darkness.

To be continued...