Page 11 of Beauty and the Grease
“This—no, I’m not trying to argue.” With my door open, the siren wails louder, overlapping the thunder and wind and hard rain. “Look, the siren means there’s a tornado. It’s not a warning.”
“You’re explaining weather to me?” Her voice pitches higher.
This feels familiar. Not the weather, but her exasperation. I flash back to all those years ago when I broke her heart. Itold her everything I believed about us and our lives was a lie, and I’d said as much to her sweet, loving face. She melted down. But the worst part was when the yelling and pleading ended. She grew quiet and folded into a ball on the couch and cried.
I got through it because I told myself ending our marriage was the right thing to do. I’d been impulsive and reckless, behaviors I’d been steered away from my whole life. Moving on to a parental-approved relationship made sense and quelled their anger.
“Jenny,” I speak softer now, despite my heart crashing in my ears. How do I tell her I care about her without saying it out loud? Forget it. “I care about you…and your safety. Please come with me.”
A contemplative look passes and she nods, opening her side of the truck. I grab my suitcase from the truck bed (it’s soaked) and roll it through the front doors. Thankfully, Jenny is a step behind.
A woman wearing a retreat center name badge approaches us in the lobby. “Welcome. Due to the tornado warning, we’re having all guests report to the storm shelter. Please follow the man over there.” She points to a tall, surfer-type with shaggy, sun-washed hair, waving for people to pass through a door. “I’ll take your bag.”
We move past the spa which is locked down. Jenny slows, looking through the glass.
“You’re thinking about a foot massage, aren’t you?”
Her lips press together. “Sure, maybe. It’s probably expensive from the looks of this place.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover the cost.”
She makes a stink face so funny I laugh.
“What? It’s the least I can do for having you drive me all the way out here. In a tornado. And for picking my sorry self up off the side of the road.”
“I billed you for the tow and you’re paying parts and labor on the Audi. You don’t owe me anything.”
But I do. I owe her so much.
“Chase!” a familiar voice calls over.
I lift my chin in greeting at Ben, my work buddy.
Ben joins us in line toward the storm shelter. “Great way to kick off the weekend, huh? Looks like you made it by the skin of your teeth.” His gaze moves to Jenny.
“This is Jenny, my…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
“I drove him,” she fills in. “His car’s in my shop.”
“What happened to your car?” Ben asks as we file behind other guests. “Did you get in an accident?”
The incident replays in my head. “I’m fine. Hit a pothole.” I don’t remember details for some reason. I don’t even knowhow long I sat in the car after calling insurance for roadside assistance. It’s a blur, and then the orange beast appeared. And Jenny.
“Hey, man, you sure you’re alright?” Ben looks between me and Jenny. “Has he been acting strange?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jenny grumbles.
I’m between Jenny and Ben, and pretty sure Ben didn’t hear her above the chatter from the crowd.
“The worst that happened was coffee dumping on my lap.” That’s a lie. The worst is this entire day. And now I’m heading into an enclosed space during a weather crisis with my coworkers and unknown-to-them ex-wife when I should be saving my job and basically my existence.
We end up descending to a no-frills lower level. People are herded to the farthest corners of a storage area to make room for everyone. There must be multiple retreats going on, because women in soft yoga type clothes huddle in one area, while familiar faces in business casual fill the rest. My boss and my boss’ boss stand out from the crowd. Yoga never seemed so appealing.
Two more coworkers join us, chattering away. I can’t seem to hear them, it’s all noise. Am I okay? My head isn’t in pain, but I’m not fine. My thoughts are scattered and I’m worried I upset Jenny.
Ben leans toward me. “Heads up, big boss on your six.”
I turn like an idiot as Linda, one of the executives, approaches, followed by Cliff, the stodgy VP I report to. They’re both wearing blazers with jeans, as casual as either of them get.
