Do I just need to invite myself in more?
Bring the beer, so to speak?
It’s that evening that I stand in front of the TV, weatherman giving us his worst, warning of floods and strong winds and the potential for tornados, when I spot Joshua at his bedroom door, his eyes wide with terror.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “TornadoeshateSpruce, Texas. You and I are safe, totally safe.”
The wind and rain grow louder outside, as if in retaliation for my answer, causing the walls to creak. Both Joshua’s and my eyes snap to the nearest window, startled.
“A-Are you sure?” he whimpers.
This is when I’d be the one to march around the house and ensure everything is in order. I’d ask Tanner a thousand times if he remembered to secure the patio furniture. I might even impose on Nadine and Paul to see if they wouldn’t mind us heading over to wait out the storm in their house on account of a pair of slightly freaked-out kids. She loves playing the hero.
Instead, I’ve chosen lunacy: to run a play from my husband’s playbook and take the backseat.
I’m not going to be the uptight one tonight.
I’m going to be Tanner.
“The only thingwehave to worry about,” I go on, leaning in, “is whatsnackswe’re gonna eat during the storm.”
Joshua stares at me like I’ve become a talking coconut.
Half an hour later, the kids are in their bed and I’m sitting up in mine, phone in hand and playing a game. Tanner stands at the window watching the rain thrash against it. I doubt there’s much else to see, it being so dark and all.
“We should’ve gone over.”
I barely look up from my phone. “What?”
“Mama offered for us to hang out at the house for the storm.”
“It’s alright. We’ve weathered a storm or two, haven’t we?”
He turns to look at me. “You’re awful calm over there with your phone.”
“Level 32,” I say, giving it a wiggle. “Bobby got me hooked.”
“You n’ Bobby were talkin’ a lot this afternoon, I noticed.”
“Got a lot in common, us husbands ofStrongs. We should start a club—aStrong spousesclub. Just talked ‘bout this and that. And your crazy brother dancing on a picnic table.”
“This and that?”
I look up from my phone. “You’re more interested in ‘this and that’ than us talking about your brother?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the window, seeming to drop it. “Storm’s gettin’ real bad, babe. The pond could flood.”
Was he trying to get at something? “Good thing our house is elevated.” I give the window half a second of my attention, force myself to ignore the frighteningly powerful weather, and snap my eyes back to my phone. “Well, look at that. Boom, baby. Level 33.”
The shuffling of feet brings both of our attentions to the door, where a slightly annoyed Marcus appears. “Sorry, Dads,” he says, “but my brother’s kinda freaking out. Do you think—”
“I have an idea,” I announce suddenly, pocketing my phone. “I think what’s in store for us … is a living room campout! How about that?” I swing my legs off the bed and yank off the comforter. “Get Joshua. We’re havin’ ourselves a storm party in the living room.”
Marcus lifts his eyebrows at me, surprised. Tanner, too.
The living room couch and the wide floor in front of it soon become a mess of all our pillows, quilts, and comforters, which is the best that we can do without sleeping bags, all of them at the main house. Apparently it’s enough; Joshua and Marcus have the TV on to play a game (Minecraft) while Tanner and I cuddle on the floor with them, our backs leaned against the foot of the couch. It may be late, but I brought out leftover Halloween candy and filled a couple bowls. Who cares if we get crumbs and crap everywhere?
Then there’s paparazzi at every window.