“Storm Chaser Sandi” Series Volume 4
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Just before 6 a.m., my phone buzzed in my pocket. I grimaced and rolled over. Slept in my clothes again. When I opened my eyes, I was confused for a moment.
It was Mom and Dad’s place.
Right. I chased the storm of my life last night, and then I crashed with them in my old bedroom.
I took a swig from the water glass on the bedside table, and then I checked my texts.
Charlie: Where are you?
Me: I told you I’d probably stay at my parents. I’m going to help them clean up the tree that snapped in their yard before I head back.
Charlie: You took your car? I thought Jonathan was picking you up.
I stared at that message for a moment, still trying to wake up. I didn’t like the creepy crawly feeling it gave me to think that Charlie was standing in my apartment’s parking lot looking for my car. I also didn’t like the nasty feelings it gave me when my next thought was that he might gloat about the possibility that Jonathan and I had some kind of falling out. But we didn’t. Jonathan knew he’d want to go back to his own studio to do the photo and video editing after the storm, and I knew it was likely I would stay in the north suburbs of Kansas City to visit my parents. I decided to keep it simple.
Me: Yeah I drove myself.
Charlie: Please come back now.
Me: I’m not bailing on my folks after promising to help. I’ll see you at dinner.
Charlie: You can’t keep leaving me hanging. You bailed on *me* last night.
I didn’t reply.
Instead, I freshened up and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee and some toast. Mom and Dad even had avocados, bless them. They might not be affectionate with hugs, but they always kept a well-stocked kitchen. Sharing a meal was one of the most important expressions of love in our family.
While I listened to the drip coffee machine hiss and gurgle, I pulled my phone to read reports about yesterday’s storm. The official track of the tornado was only a few miles in a relatively unpopulated area, but our spotting may have saved a couple that was driving along the interstate when the warning was issued. They’d given the local news an interview about how they pulled over after the alert on the radio and made sure they were far from their car in the ditch. After the howling storm passed, they came up to the road soaking wet but unscathed, while their car was carried a quarter mile before slamming into an embankment. Ah, I felt good about that. It was nice to know for sure that our timely call did some good.
Dad came into the kitchen, just as the coffee finished brewing.
“Mornin’, kiddo. Your mom’s still sleeping. Maybe we can get that branch broken down before she gets a chance to strain her hip.”
Mom’s hip replacement was over two years ago, and she’d argue that she’s right as rain now, but Dad was always looking out for her.
“Yeah, sounds good. Then I might leave pretty quick after that. Charlie wants to spend more time together. I thought my new job would help with that, but we still have some work to do to get on the same page.”
“New job?”
“Right, I was going to tell you both today. I started a couple of weeks ago. I’m making about the same with half as many hours. It’s nice, and I have more time to myself. Charlie is taking a while to realize that he’s the one still working 50 hours a week.”
Dad snorted into his coffee mug.
“But,” I admitted, “yesterday kind of proved that a storm can still interrupt our date nights.”
“Ah. So where’s the job?”
“Brower Farm. It’s out in Platte County, so the commute is also eating up some of that free time. I’m powering through audiobooks pretty quickly. I’m thinking about moving closer to the NWS office in Valley to shave down that drive time, but I haven’t talked to Charlie about it yet.”
“Hmm. A farm?”
“Yeah, the farmer, Hank Brower, lost is wife almost a year ago. Needs someone to do a few administrative tasks and then as many chores as I can handle. I supervised the cleanup crew after a tornado ripped through his soybeans.”
Dad smiled. “This will tickle your mom.”
Mom was a farmer’s daughter, once upon a time, before she moved to the city and got a job in Dad’s restaurant. They fell in love, and together built a small empire of several locations, serving simple but delicious Kansas City bbq and fresh lemonade from my grandma’s recipe. Eight years ago, they sold it all to start an early retirement.
It only took us an hour to clean up the large branch from the oak tree. It looked worse than it really was. The tree would survive, just missing about 20% of the mass it had the day before. Dad texted their usual arborist to request trimming services after the storm cleanup slowed down.
When we went back inside, Mom was making bacon and muffins.
“Mmm, smells good,” Dad said.
“Yes, well, while everything finishes baking, I think we should talk.” She gestured to the dining table, but once we were all seated, she wrung her hands.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure. Charlie called me yesterday.”
“Charlie called you? That’s weird. I’ve never given him your number.”
Dad’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling.
Mom said softly, “Ok, I wondered about that. He specifically asked me not to tell you he called, but that didn’t sit right with me. He said that he was thinking about your future together and wanted a bit more information before asking you some serious questions. It sounded like he wanted to propose.”
My jaw dropped.
Barreling onward, Mom continued, “He asked some pretty audacious financial questions. Are we paying any of your bills? How much did we give you to help buy your car? Would we expect the two of you to support us if our retirement funds dried up?”
With every word she spoke, a chilling sensation swept through me and intensified until it burned like fire, I was so angry.
Dad noticed. “Audacious is certainly a word for it. What did you tell him, Katherine?”
“Well, the truth, I think. We aren’t paying any of your bills. We gave you $2,000 to help you with the car, as a gift, no strings attached, whether you wanted to use it for a downpayment, insurance, gas, whatever. And of course we don’t expect you to support us, ever. That’s the wrong direction of responsibility in a parent-child relationship.”
I got up and refilled my coffee. By the time I said down, I was calm again. “He’s always projecting his insecurities about money on to me. I’m sorry he put you through that interrogation. I’ll have a word with him about how he should have asked me directly, and if he doesn’t trust my answers, then we don’t exactly have a future together.”
“No,” said Dad, stiffly.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Not yet. See what else he does ask you directly.” His expression darkened. “Or if he tries to access any of your accounts. In the meantime, lock your credit. Befake sure he can’t get ahold of anything that’s yours.”
I covered my face with my hands. I hated that he was right. There really wasn’t any “if” about it. Our four-year relationship was constantly on the rocks, and giving my parents a financial third degree was a line Charlie shouldn’t have even approached, let alone cross.
Suddenly I dropped my hands back to the table. “He asked me about the car this morning. He told me I should come home right away, but he might have meant bring the car right away.”
Dad frowned. “Where’s the title?”
“In the safe you bought me as a housewarming gift when I moved into the apartment. For the record, your $2,000 contribution plus my savings meant I had enough to pay for the car in cash, so thank you again. And that also meant the title transferred right away. I locked it up and haven’t looked at it since. That’s what, three years ago?”
“Thereabouts,” Dad confirmed. “Open the safe today. Make sure it’s still there. Call your county treasurer and make sure it’s still registered to you, too.”
“Sandi,” Mom said slowly. “You told us when you bought it that Charlie found you this car. I think you said that’s why it was such a good deal — he got the seller to bring down the asking price.”
That was my mother. Exceptional memory. It was thing that caught Dad’s interest before they were together and she was the best-performing waitress in his restaurant. Now, she was right again, and it made my stomach churn. I couldn’t afford any shenanigans with my car’s ownership. I needed it for my livelihood. I threw up my hands and cried, “Ugh, I hate this!”
Dad insisted, “And do it all discreetly. Don’t open the safe in front of Charlie. Don’t tell him your calling county offices. Do you think you can manage to act normal around him?”
I scoffed. “Well, normal for us usually includes fighting daily but making up within hours, so I can at least manage the first half. It might make me barf to let him touch me again, but I think I can hold back my disgust long enough to figure out what the hell he’s doing, and somehow get my extra key back. And then I’ll kick his suspicious, scheming, shady-used-car-salesman ass to the curb!”
Mom looked a bit scandalized, but Dad smirked. “Call us if you need anything, like help changing the locks.”
The ride home was a blur. I tried to listen to one of my audiobooks, but I wasn’t following the story. I thought about calling Jonathan, but I didn’t think he would be able to bide his time and act normal if he believed Charlie to be some kind of threat to me.
Somehow, the universe seemed to know I needed him, and Jonathan called me.
I put him through the car’s system via bluetooth. “Hey, Jonathan, what’s up?”
“You’re going to love the media treasure trove we got yesterday.”
“Nice.”
“We should talk about how much more backlog we want before starting the pod.”
“Oh, well, my job situation just got a whole lot more flexible, so I am less concerned about having such a big backlog of episodes.”
Jonathan sounded relieved. “I hoped you would say that. Got time today to meet?”
I bit my lip to keep from blurting out everything I learned this morning. There was no way I’d be in the right headspace for major business decisions today. “Uh, tomorrow is better. In the evening, after I get back from Brower’s. Over dinner, maybe?”
“Yeah, but one thing.”
“Name it.”
“You can’t bring Charlie.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “No problem.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know, Jonathan. We’ve been building this a lot longer than I’ve been with Charlie, and it’s none of his business what we do with our business.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Mentally, I was prepared to act the part if Charlie was waiting when I got home. I breathed a sigh of relief to find my apartment empty.
My safe was exactly how I expected to find it. The car title was exactly where I left it. Reading it gave me no new clues. Then again, I did not actually have the expertise to know if there was anything wrong with it before I even put it in the safe.
Before I could work up the nerve to call the Douglas County treasurer, I heard the key in the lock of my front door.
I grabbed my overnight back and hopped back into my bedroom, shoving the car title back in the safe and hastily locking it. With my bag on the bed, I unzipped it just as Charlie came through, announcing loudly, “Sandi? It’s me.”
“Oh, hey, back here, I just got home myself.” I made a show of throwing my dirty laundry in the basket as he walked through the bedroom door, and then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as I slipped by him to put my toothbrush in the bathroom drawer.
Standing awkwardly in the hallway, he said, “Sandi, I need to borrow your car.”
“Huh? Something wrong with your Tesla?” I beckoned him to follow me to the two-seat dining table crammed in the living room nook.
He sat heavily. “Yeah. The dealership took it back. They were eating the cost of the lease, so I would look the part even though my credit was no good, but my boss decided no one was getting discount leases anymore. I can’t afford the lease on a brand new car. I need to borrow yours for a few days while I figure out what I’m going to do. I ubered here, but I can’t be a car salesman who has to take an uber everywhere.”
Whatever look was on my face, Charlie clearly knew it wasn’t good.
“It’s just a couple of days, Sandi. You said the farmer understands when you have to disappear for a while.”
“Not right after I just asked for two days off! And I do need the paycheck. If I’m not at work, I don’t get paid, and then I won’t be able to afford the registration, insurance, maintenance, and gas that I need to keep from losing my car too.”
Charlie knew I could be fiesty in a fight, but he looked taken aback.
Calmer, I said, “No. You cannot borrow my car. First thing tomorrow, I go to work over an hour away, and there simply aren’t any ubers willing to make that drive. You can put on your big boy pants and manage in the city.”
I knew, from previous fights, that any implication or outright calling him childish would hit a nerve. This was no exception. “You’re being selfish, Sandi. I’m the one who got you that car in the first place.”
“Oh no, you found the car, and I am grateful for that. But I paid for it, the taxes, and every cost associated since.” I paused and thought about what I would have done in this fight yesterday, before I knew about his call to my parents. “If you need a ride to work in the mornings, I can do that, at 5am, before I go out to my own job. I can’t guarantee a ride home after, but I can at least get you to the job you need so that you can keep earning a paycheck and work out what to do next.”
And then, Charlie did something very stupid. He said, “You didn’t pay for the car yourself. Your mom gave you thousands of dollars.”
I sat back in my chair and glared. He might have interpreted this as landing a hit in the fight. But then I said, “I told you at the time that they helped. I didn’t tell you how much.”
We silently glared at each other. Taking a deep breath to ground myself, I considered my two goals for this fight. I figured out what was going on with my car — it wasn’t anything too shady, he just thought he had a claim to it when he lost his own. If I could just get the other goal dealt with tonight, that would be a tidy ribbon on this shit package of a day.
I gathered my wits and shrugged. “At this point, I suppose we usually find a way to smooth things over and have a nice spicy evening. But that’s not happening today. For now, we are going to put a pin in this problem. You can decide later if you want that ride to work in the morning. But first, you’re probably going to want to think about the next argument we need to have.”
“The next one? This isn’t bad enough?”
I shrugged again. “I’m starting to look at apartments in Valley.”
Charlie’s eyes went wide. “By the weather station?”
Something inside me pinched, hard. The sting of regret. It was Charlie’s attention to detail that always got to me. He remembered things. Practical things. Romantic things. Everything. I thought it made our love story more like Mom and Dad’s.
But they never fought like we did.
I blinked away the tears that threatened to spill out. Maybe a little shaky, I said, “Yes. I rented this place because it was exactly between there and my retail job at Fly’s. The landlord’s been good to me, so I stayed even though there’s barely enough space for me, let alone you. The retail job is gone, and my new one is even farther west. So I’m ready to move now, at least as far as Valley. Maybe Fremont.”
Charlie shook his head. “You got this place before you met me, so that always made sense. But I work downtown. I live with my mom in Papillion. Coming here to be with you was always out of the way, but I never once complained. And now you want to be even farther away, when you’re already away too much.”
“I’m sorry. Uh, there might be one thing to still consider to salvage this.”
“Yeah?”
“Once you have reliable transportation again, the commute from Valley to downtown is still shorter than the one I’d have out to Brower’s.”
Charlie’s face hardened, and then lifted. “You’d want to move in together?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying, Charlie. I meant it yesterday when I said I love you. I don’t want to make that decision today, but I do want to start looking at apartments. Something bigger than this one, low bar as that is.” I smiled.
He smiled too.
Then I wiped that smile off my face and said, “Regardless of what happens to us, I do need my key back to give to the landlord here.”
“Today? You don’t even have another place lined up yet.”
“I’d like all my ducks in a row before I sign any paperwork.”
He did not like this one bit, clearly. But he reached into his pockets and fished out his key ring. He slowly slid the key through the loops and laid it on the table between us.
Then, for the first time ever, our fight didn’t end with hot make-up sex. It ended with him standing up, saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need the ride tomorrow,” and him walking out my door.
I cried. Ugly cried. Sobbed and screamed. But I think it was mostly a release of tension, rather than an expression of grief. Afterward, I felt so much better, lighter, even with my puffy eyes and sore throat.
I had no idea how much worse it was going to get.
End of “Storm Chaser Sandi” Series Volume 4
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