We Are Still Tornadoes

by Michael Kun

  And I said, “Go ahead.”

  And she said, “I want an honest answer. Have you ever cheated on me with Cath? Don’t lie. Tell me the truth.”

  And I said, “Never.”

  And she said, “Cross your heart.”

  And I said, “Absolutely. I’ve never cheated on you with Cath. I’ve never cheated on you with anyone.” I almost said, “Unlike you. You cheated on me, remember?” but I didn’t.

  But then she said, “Do you think she’s pretty? Don’t lie. You think she’s pretty, don’t you?”

  And I said, “Yes.”

  She laughed and said, “Thank you for being honest, I guess. But I wish you’d lied.” And then she said, “Have you ever kissed her?”

  I paused for a second because of that kiss at Duffy’s, and when I didn’t answer right away, she went berserk. She said, “I knew it! I knew it all along! You two were making out the whole time we were dating in high school, weren’t you?”

  I told her no, and I tried to calm her down, even when she was calling me names, and I explained what happened at Duffy’s, that it was completely meaningless, that you’d meant to kiss me on the cheek, etc.

  When I told her the waitress at Duffy’s kissed me, too, she said, “What the fuck? Are you making out with everyone in that dumb-ass town?” Then she said, “You talked to her tonight before you called me, didn’t you?”

  I said, “Who? The waitress?” thinking I could make a joke out of the whole thing.

  And she said, “No, Catherine Fucking Osteen.”

  And I said, “Her middle name’s Evelyn, after her grandmother.”

  And she said, “I couldn’t give a flying fuck what Catherine Osteen’s middle name is or how she fucking got it. I want to know if you talked with Catherine Fucking Osteen tonight before you called me.”

  When I told her I had, she said she wanted me to promise that I wouldn’t talk to you anymore. Ever. I didn’t agree to that. I told her that wasn’t fair and that we can talk about it some more when I visit her this weekend. But as long as Samantha and I are still dating, I have to think about her and what she wants. So, if it’s okay with you, I think we need to cool it with the phone calls and letters for a bit.

  And I’m going to assume that’s cool with you since, as of a couple hours ago, you thought I was a complete asshole.

  Okay?

  Love,

  Scott

  March 26, 1983

  2:30 A.M., In case you were wondering

  Dear Scott,

  I’m sorry I didn’t handle things well on that call either. I don’t think that you’re an asshole or a jerk. It just really frosts me to have to deal with your jealous girlfriend. I mean, come on, you and I have been friends forever and we’ve had so much going on in our lives lately, of course we need to talk to each other. We’re connected. I’m sorry if that freaks Samantha out, but it is what it is. And I’m not going to “cool it” with writing to you because you are off visiting Samantha at the Virginia College for Morons and Skanks right now and how else could I tell you that I HAVE A BABY SISTER!

  Oh, Scott, she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. And she looks right into my eyes when I hold her and talk to her. I’m really surprised, but I love her so much already. She’s so beautiful, and I think she knows that I’m her big sister. She calms down when I hold her, except when she’s hungry, but that’s another story. And one that you’ll like because it involves boobs.

  But anyway, I’ve been on the craziest emotional roller coaster tonight. I wish you were here! I really need one of our late nights where I pace around your basement as you sort of, maybe, half listen to me as I ramble about everything that has just happened, and I throw things at you if you fall asleep. No more ashtrays, I promise, I know that left a mark, but you know, pencils, shoes, pillows, whatever, I need to throw some stuff at you right now! My heart and my head are racing like the bass line in “Mystery Achievement.” Or maybe it’s the drum line. Whatever, you know what I mean. Chrissie Hynde is such a badass.

  So the delivery was nuts. I was over at my dad’s place when Amanda’s water broke. She was cool as a cucumber, but my dad lost his mind. He was in such a panic that he threw the car keys into the backseat and tried to stick his glasses in the ignition. Amanda convinced him to sit in the backseat with her and to let me drive them to over to Cedar Creek Hospital. Thank God you taught me how to drive your little piece-of-shit Honda last summer! The clutch on the Mercedes was harder to work than yours, but I got used to it pretty quickly. Anyway, everything calmed down a lot when we got to the hospital, and my dad and I mostly hung out in the waiting room while they got Amanda settled. I was struggling with so many things. I was trying not to think about how it was that we ended up there in the first place, with my dad’s girlfriend about to have a baby, and feeling horrible about having to call my mom to explain why I would be late getting home, and scared for Amanda, and really excited and nervous to see the baby. Before long they called my dad back to the delivery room, and then the nurse came to get me. I walked in there expecting to see a Norman Rockwell painting, and instead it looked like a crime scene! Holy shitballs! There was blood, and there were too many people, and my dad was laid out on a gurney like a dead man. I got dizzy, and a nurse sat me in a chair and said, “I guess it runs in the family.” Long story short, back when I was born, they apparently didn’t bring dads into the delivery room until after the baby was born. These days, they bring them in for the big event, and even ask the dads if they want to cut the umbilical cord. (WHAT?) Well, my dad was NOT prepared for that, and he passed out cold in the middle of everything! When I saw him on the gurney, I thought about your dad and everything that you’d been through in that exact same hospital. I’m so sorry, Scott, I know it’s unfair, but I cried with relief when my dad woke up. I’m not strong enough to go through what you are going through, and Amanda looked so young and helpless with the little infant in her arms, and I kept thinking, “What is she going to do without my dad to take care of them?”

  We all had a good laugh at my dad’s expense when he woke up, and then we did a lot of gazing at the baby, and holding the baby, and learning about swaddling the baby, and then staring at her some more. By the way, I am still referring to my sister as “the baby” because Amanda and my dad can’t agree on a name. Amanda is rock solid when it comes to having a baby, as it turns out, but she’s still a little bit of a dummy when it comes to naming a baby, and she wants a name like “Bianca” or “Chantelle.” I don’t really care, as long as it’s not something that other kids can tease her about when she grows up, like “Patty Patty Fo Fatty” or whatever. She’s so beautiful, she will make almost any name perfect.

  Whew, I just realized that I’m exhausted. If you were here, you would get up off the couch at this point, walk me across the street and help me get my head straight about what to say to my mom in the morning. But you’re not here, so I’ll just have to figure that out on my own. Thanks a lot, Samantha.

  I’ll be home all summer. I’m going to babysit for my sister after Amanda goes back to work. Maybe your girlfriend will chill out by then and we can hang out like normal. You have to get to know the baby. You’re practically her uncle. No, wait, her brother. Whatever, it’s 3:30 in the morning. It’s too hard to think right now.

  I miss you. And this is crazy, but I miss my no-named sister already, too.

  Love,

  Catherine Fucking Osteen

  P.S. As far as the recent Samantha drama goes, the less we say about it, the better.

  * * *

  AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING

  Where Men and Boys Shop

  EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND

  * * *

  March 29, 1983

  Dear Cath,

  I couldn’t find a “Congratulations on the Birth of Your Sister” card anywhere in the card shop. Maybe if I write “Hallmark” at the bottom of this letter, that will make it official.

  So, congratulations on the birth of yo
ur sister! Very cool!

  Your mom told my mom about it at work—I don’t want to even think about how that conversation went—so I knew about it before I got your letter. I had no idea you would be so excited about it. I mean, I know how messy and difficult everything has been for you, and I know you weren’t that thrilled with the whole situation, but I’m glad to see that you’re excited. However you may feel about your dad and his secretary—I noticed you actually called her by her name!—I guess that shouldn’t affect the way you feel about your sister. It’s not like she had anything to do with it.

  Anyway, I suspect you’ve talked with your mom and know how freaked out she is about this whole thing. You might want to give her a call or send her a nice letter or something because she’s afraid she’s going to get pushed out of your life now and that you’re going to spend all your time with your dad, the secretary, and the baby. She didn’t tell me that directly, but it’s a pretty good summary of the conversation the Moms were having with Todd at work today. Yes, the Moms talk about stuff like that with Todd. The weirdest part is that he seems to enjoy it. He even gives them both advice sometimes, and he reads the articles they cut out for him from Redbook. Deep down, he may be a 50-year-old woman. Who plays the drums and can’t get to work on time.

  I know you don’t want to hear about my trip to visit Samantha at her school, which is not called the Virginia College for Morons and Skanks, at least not according to the brochures, so I won’t say anything about it other than that it was okay. Not perfect, not great, but okay. A little weird, maybe. I’m sure that’s natural since it’s the first time I’ve visited her there, and I didn’t know any of her friends or anything. But that will be different if I’m at school there with her next year. Or should I say when I’m at school there next year. I just found out I got in. (It’s the only acceptance I got.) I’m very excited. I’m going to go to college after all. My dad would be proud.

  What else can I tell you?

  Work’s good.

  We’re setting up a few more gigs for the band. I’m completely reworking the lyrics for “Um.” I wanted to make it a little more personal. Maybe I’ll send the new lyrics to you when I finish them up. We almost have enough original songs now that we could make an album. Not that I’m saying we’re going to do that, just that we could.

  And if we want to do that, we’d better hurry since Todd may be going through menopause soon. (I had never heard about “menopause” until the Moms started talking about it at work. It’s on the long list of things the Moms don’t think any of us understand.)

  I’m going to head to bed now. I hope you have enjoyed this card.

  Take care. And “Congratulations on the Birth of Your Sister.”

  Scott

  P.S. Baseball season is about to start. Go Orioles!

  HALLMARK

  APRIL

  WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY

  April 8, 1983

  Dear Scott,

  Way to go, college boy!

  I’m so proud of you going to college, and I know your dad would be even prouder.

  Wow!

  Scott Agee is going to college!

  Of course, I won’t actually be able to visit him there because of his jealous skank of a girlfriend, but still, wow! I mean, wow! Hooray for you!

  Before I start talking all about me again, I have to tell you that I thought about your family and your dad so much during this past Easter weekend. I don’t go to church very often anymore, but I did go on Easter, and I was so overwhelmed with memories of all those years that we shared Easter egg hunts and made fun of each other for having to get so dressed up for Mass. And memories of our dads, especially your dad. My dad volunteering to have our family bring up the gifts when you were serving on the altar, and your dad giving me such a pleased look as we made our way back to the pew. I don’t know if I’ve told you often enough, Scott, but I really do miss your dad. I think about him and about you and your mom a lot and I hope you know that I’m here for you if you ever need to talk about him.

  Anyway, it’s time to start talking about ME again.

  On Monday, I got my courage up and asked a sophomore guy that I work with to go to our dorm formal with me. You met him briefly during your St. Patty’s Day gig. His name’s Andrew. Anyway, I was so awkward. You would have laughed your ass off if you’d seen it. My voice was quivering, and I think that at least one eye and maybe my whole face was twitching as I asked him. Fortunately, he quickly said yes, probably just to keep me from going into a full-blown seizure. I was drenched in sweat for the rest of our shift together. I almost put my poetry notebook in the pizza oven and had to walk around outside to get my hands to stop shaking. Seriously, how do boys ask girls out all the time? It is so hard! (Insert lame sex joke here.)

  When I told my mom about it on the phone, she insisted on bringing me a new dress and taking me to lunch as an early birthday present. Given that she’s been upset about my plan to babysit Jennifer this summer—if you haven’t heard, the baby’s name is “Jennifer Crystalle,” and yes, I’m doing my best to ignore the “Crystalle” part—I couldn’t really say no, even though I had a big paper due on Thursday. Anyway, I have to admit, my mom brought me a really pretty dress, and we had a great talk for about the first hour of lunch. She got more comfortable with my plan to babysit this summer when I explained my thinking—that it will be a great way to spend time with my sister while not having to deal with Amanda, who will be at work whenever I am with Jennifer. Mom also agrees that the baby is going to need me to read to her and talk to her in a normal voice and help her not to become some wacky little hair-sprayed princess, given that her mother is such a wacky big hair-sprayed princess. Mom also likes the idea of keeping the babysitting money in the family, since we’re all a little tight on cash. (That’s not a criticism of how much she’s being paid to work at the store.) We also visited the Financial Aid Office while my mom was here, and they were really helpful. I don’t think I told you this, but my dad has been pressuring me to transfer to the University of Maryland for the in-state tuition. My mom knows how much I love it here at Wake, so she’s been helping me fill out all the forms to get into the work-study program, and the track coaches have told the Financial Aid Office that they’re holding a spot for me on the cross-country team next fall, so we’re going to cobble together some different sources of funds to keep me here next year.

  Speaking of money, do you think you could put in a good word for me at Duffy’s? I’ve gotten some good bartending and food service experience this year, and I bet the weekend and night shift waitresses get good tips there, especially when Crush is playing.

  Speaking of Crush, I don’t understand how you can have almost enough original songs for an album! You’ve been holding out on me! I’ve only heard “Daddy Issues,” “Sometimes, Jeanie Blue,” “You Don’t Know Me,” and “Have a Heart.” I still haven’t heard “Um” or seen the lyrics to it. Please send them to me. And please send me a tape of your new stuff. Jane and I will listen to it and give you our unvarnished, First Official Crush Groupies’ opinion.

  But I digress, because I haven’t told you about the second hour of my lunch with my mother. Or rather, perhaps there’s something that YOU have not been telling ME.

  Who the hell is this “Chris Caldwell” character?

  If she said “Chris Caldwell” once, she said it a hundred times.

  “Chris Caldwell” is an old high school friend of hers who has, “You know, been on the annual Christmas card list.” (No. I didn’t know.)

  “Chris Caldwell” recently got a big promotion and got transferred to his firm’s Baltimore office.

  “Chris Caldwell” has been shopping at Agee’s Clothes, where men and boys shop, to update his wardrobe, “You know, because of the big promotion and all.”

  Despite the stellar performance at his firm, he appears to be wildly inefficient with his shopping time. A tie one day (“Chris Caldwell looks very nice in paisley”), a shirt the next (“Chris Caldw
ell can wear those blue oxford shirts with the white collars and not look the least bit silly”). A black belt to go with his new English leather loafers (“He has such a trim 32-inch waist! Chris Caldwell always has been quite the athlete.”).

  Could you please tell me what in the hell has been going on in that store of yours? I mean, I’m sure people are respectful of your dad’s memory and aren’t in there flirting it up with your mother, but what is going on with MY mom? Maybe I should be happy for her to have “Chris Caldwell” lurking about, but I was pretty blindsided by the whole thing and would have appreciated a little heads-up.

  And now to conclude my crazy week, I’m going to my last track team practice. All the injured runners are back so the team is at full strength, which means they don’t need me anymore. I’m glad I trained with them, and I’m also kind of glad that it’s over. It’s a huge time and energy commitment. I’ve loved it, and I’ve learned so much from the coaches and made some really good friends—did I ever tell you about Donna and Donna-with-the-Headbands?—but I’m ready to go back to running on my own time. Plus they’re letting me keep my team warm-up suit, which is awesome, and they know that I am really psyched for cross-country in the fall, which will be a better fit for me anyway. I’m all about long distances.

  Okay, I’m off. Write soon, and don’t forget that my birthday is coming up.

  Say hi to the Moms for me, and keep an eye on that “Chris Caldwell” guy.

  And congratulations again, college boy!

  Love from your almost-nineteen-year-old friend who kissed you once in a bar, big deal,

  Jennifer’s sister,

  Cath

  P.S. It’s baseball season already? Break out the pants, boys!

  * * *