“Cliff! Cliff!!”
He
ran out of the barn and asked, “What’s wrong?
Did you aunt fall again?”
“No! The … the radio!” I couldn’t explain even if I had the breath
left to do it with so I pulled him towards the house completely ignoring how
sweaty, dirty, and smelly he was. Well,
mostly ignoring it.
Cliff
gave me enough credit that I wasn’t just pulling a girl and ran with me. He could hear it through the open window as
we jumped onto the porch.
***********************
THIS
IS THE EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM. THIS IS
NOT A TEST. ….
***********************
After
listening to the EAS announcement until it started repeating itself Cliff
sighed and said, “Well that tears it.”
My
response was a tad more emotional. “Tears
it?! It blows it out of the water! And I can’t reach Uncle Carmichael. The phone just says all lines are busy, try
again later.”
Calmly
Cliff told me to, “Try texting and then give it a rest. You aren’t going to do any good trying to
call out if they are trying to call in.”
Aunt
Rachel called to us in a quavering voice, “Winifred, are the water jugs
full? Did the feed come this morning?”
Since
she’d already signed for the feed and watched me fill the jugs earlier in the
day I knew we were in for a bad episode brought on by agitation and fear. The only way to handle it was simply to
answer her calmly and try and redirect her.
“Yes
ma’am. I’ll wind your radios for you.”
In
a suddenly calm voice she answered, “Yes do m’dear. Farm report is due on in a moment.”
Cliff
and I glanced at each other and in unspoken agreement we knew we were on our
own for a while. I got Aunt Rachel
settled in the area she called her parlor while Cliff went upstairs to get his
radio and take it onto the back porch.
By the time I got there he was pretty pale.
“What?”
I asked almost afraid to hear.
“The
president was one of the targets and no one is willing to confirm she survived the
attack. They’ve declared all of the US
states and her territories a no fly zone.
The interstate system is going to be shut down at six pm eastern
standard time. They are calling up all
of the National Guard troops still on US soil.”
“Oh
… oh no. Are you …?”
“Me
no. Dad, Carl, and Chris yes.”
“And
Uncle Carmichael. Oh my gawd. And then there is Christine. What is she …? And your mom. Can … can Connor handle your mom by himself?”
“No
way. He’s her biggest enabler. Then there’s Cevin.”
I
took a breath but before I could even suggest it Cliff said, “No.”
“But
…”
“Look,
Dad already has a plan. He put it
together after the big riots then modified it when Carl, Cev, and I stopped
living at home. Dad will make sure
Connor and Mom get installed at my grandparents’ place. Papa and Nana know how things stand and Nana
and my Aunt Leona – she’s the one that had the pink tips in her hair in Chris
and Christine’s wedding pictures – used to be a nurses out at the state
hospital so getting Mom to take her meds will hopefully be a non-issue. And Dad laid in a supply of her meds with the
help of her psychiatrist. Connor gets
along great with my Uncle Buff who lives in the duplex right next to Papa and
Nana and will room with him. Cev’s ALF
is just around the norner from them so if for some reason Cev can’t stay there
Uncle Buff says he’ll go get him. That
just leaves Christine.”
“She
can’t stay by herself. She’s pregnant!”
“Relax. She won’t be.
Chris signed a lease with Uncle Buff to rent the other half of the
duplex. It wasn’t gonna start until they
finished rehabbing the space but I expect they’ll go ahead and stick her in
there and let Flacco and his brother move into the apartment over the
business. They’ll help my Uncle Dan, who
is partners with Dad, keep an eye on things.”
“I
wonder what Uncle Carmichael is going to do about Barb. She was on that cruise with her friends.”
“Not
your problem,” he said ruthlessly. “We
gotta figure out what we’re going to do.
I’m glad you got out of your funk long enough yesterday to get your Aunt
to go shopping.”
“Cliff,
it’s not that I don’t appreciate your honesty but could you not like … take my
skin off with it?”
“Huh?”
He said looking at me like I’d just given him an answer he hadn’t asked a
question to. “Oh. Look Gypsy, this is just me.”
“No
kidding. I just don’t need to hear about
how big a wuss I am right now.”
“You
aren’t a wuss … you’re … I had a computer class professor who used to get on to
the girls in the class that would get frustrated at his criticisms. He’d come back with something about them
emoting too much and that they need to push on through. Well … you’ve done all the emoting you’re
gonna do. It’s starting to get in the
way even if it is how girls do things.
Screw your head on and hit the field.”
With
resigned horror at the inevitable I said, “Tell me you did not just use a
football analogy on me.” When he just
stared I said, “Fine, just for pete sake, no more sports references. I have enough trouble following that stuff
normally. I so do not want to figure it
out under current circumstances.”
He
gave a small grin of triumph because he knew he was getting his way just like
he always did and said, “Deal.” It’s not
like I thought he was wrong, I’m just admitting that his phrasing rubbed me the
wrong way. It also made me wonder about
all of his apparent success with the female of our species ‘cause I just wasn’t
seeing him getting away with this with most of the girls he dated. Most of those cats could be ruthless in
proving that you had to take their feelings into account over every little
thing. Sure, I may pull a girl on
occasion but I’m no drama queen. And I
gave myself a mental shake and decided I wasn’t about to pick that moment to
start being one either.
We
listened to the radio another ten minutes then Cliff shook his head and said,
“They’ve started repeating themselves every other sentence. Keep listening just in case they actually say
anything new. I’m gonna bike down to the
gate and see when the electric company is going to be finished. While I’m gone think about what we could need
from the store if Aunt Penny Pincher wasn’t watching over your shoulder.”
“Cliff!”
“Hey,
you know it’s true. Do YOU know anyone
else that saves plastic wrap from church dinners, brings it home, washes it and
then puts it in a Christmas box to be reused?”
Rolled
my eyes. “Ok, she just has a few
quirks.”
With
a snort Cliff muttered, “Quirks?! Is
that what you call it?”
Cliff
brought the bike down from the porch and then pedaled off. I was so involved in watching him leave that
it took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and had to run to answer the
phone that had started ringing in the kitchen.
“Prissy Britches?!”
“Uncle
Carmichael! I can barely hear you! I tried to call …”
“Hush
and listen up. You heard the news?”
“Yes
Sir.”
“I
love you girl. I wish I could promise
you things will turn out.”
“We’ll
deal Uncle Carmichael, that’s what us Baumann’s do.”
“That
we do Prissy Britches. Now I’m going to
ask you and Cliff to … to help each other and look after the Old Woman. It won’t be easy. At some point she might even start fighting
you. I’ll keep in touch as I can … but
…”
There
was some weird crackling then the phone croaked. The last that I could just make out was to
mind m p’s and q’s.
I
looked at my phone until I heard something on the porch. I whipped around in sudden fear but it was
just the barn cat depositing a mouse shape care package before scampering
off. Having stepped on one or two of her
previous care packages I grabbed the broom and dustpan and took care of it so I
wouldn’t have the pleasure again.
While
I did that I also did what Cliff had asked me to and decided as far as
groceries we were doing pretty well under the circumstances, mostly thanks to
Uncle Carmichael getting a little crazy about the way Aunt Rachel ran things.
“This
isn’t the ‘blipping’ Depression and I’m not going to let anyone come out here
and say I’m not taking care of my family!”
Followed by lots of male snorts and growls.
Aunt
Rachel, whose memory has gotten considerably worse since her stay in the
hospital, doesn’t know about all of the stuff that Uncle Carmichael bought and
stored in the basement. I was still in a
splint when he sent Cliff and I to the nearest Warehouse Club with a List. Capital “L”.
Cliff’s dad also sent a list with him.
While understood Uncle Carmichael doing it – or at least thought I did –
I wasn’t sure about why Mr. Montgomery felt the need to get involved.
It
was Cliff who explained, “I’m here that’s why and Dad has been doing a little
overcompensating.”
“A
little what?”
“You
know, trying to prove – when he absolutely doesn’t need to prove – that he
cares about me as much as he cares about the others. Sometimes when he gets stressed out over Mom
and her damage he lets the guilt get away from him and he … you know … over
compensates. This is just his way of
making sure that I’m taking care of.
Don’t let it flip your wig Gypsy.”
I
remember trying to weigh just how much my hand would hurt if I punched him for
“overcompensating” with his attitude.
As
it was when Cliff and I went out into the world to play at being adults we
realized the lists we were given were pretty good but there were still some
holes where our personal comforts were concerned. We managed to put a dent in our own savings
filling those holes. Cliff likes those
disgusting protein bars and powders so we got four big boxes of his cardboard
flavored namesakes and several large cans of protein and whey powder. I on the other hand, not wanting to rebulk
parts of my anatomy I had only started to get trimmed up, stuck to things more
on the low-fat, high-fiber end of the spectrum like my favorite rice cakes that
I could guiltlessly munch on when my monthly made me want to constantly have
something in my mouth.
I
had also gotten used to drinking all the milk I wanted and remembered how much
I had missed it when the cow had gone dry last winter. To address that craving I added a couple of
cases of evaporated canned milk and several large cans of NIDO which was real
dried milk and not the fluffy stuff that you normally got that tasted like
white water if you didn’t doctor it up.
That wasn’t all we added. Cliff
and I both prefer tea to coffee. We
aren’t tea snobs, and Cliff tends to hide his preference when there are other
guys around, but he didn’t complain at all when I put on the cart a big variety
pack full of different tea flavors plus another one that was all herbal tea
flavors. When I would have bypassed the
chocolate to try and avoid the inevitable plantation of zits that would result
if I even thought about it too much, Cliff added the fixings for a winter’s
worth of hot chocolate. By that point we
were both feeling our oats.
I
splurged and stocked up on all of the spices and extracts Aunt Rachel turned
her nose up at because of the expense.
We both grabbed large tubs of various lemonade flavored drink mixes – my
favorite is strawberry lemonade but Cliff can chug the more exotic flavored
mango lemonade like he’s on the beach being served by girls in bikinis. And because we’d both been raised on it we
got giant cans of orange flavored powdered breakfast drink. Afterall the astronauts used to drink that
stuff so how bad could it be?
I
tried to send him away for one of my last additions but Cliff shook his
head. “Forget it Gypsy. You’ll wind up pushing this cart into
something expensive and knocking it over and that stuff doesn’t phase me. Mom used to send me to the store to pick it
up for her.”
“What?!
But … just ew. Geez, damage you for life
why doesn’t she.”
Cliff
slowly smiled but it wasn’t a happy one.
“She already thought I was and … and I just got to where I refused to
give her the satisfaction.”
The
more I know about what I didn’t know the … well really, Mrs. Montgomery …
sometimes there is no right word to describe something or someone adequately.
On
top of what we bought on and off The Lists, Uncle Carmichael and Mr. Montgomery
bought more than a few things themselves for storing at the farm. They tried to play off the curiosity and
concern of certain family members by calling it “feed for the metal animals”
that we had to take care of. They
thought they were being funny of course and most ate the bait hook, line, and
sinker. Cliff and I were less prosaic
but then again we were more directly involved since we got all sorts of instructions
on what to do and what not to do with it all.
They bought barrels which they then filled with fuel and stored in the
older of the two storm shelters on the farm.
They also brought in junk to maintain and repair the family vehicles. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me but
it did when I found out that carpentry wasn’t the only skill that Cliff
had. And then there was the ammo that we
were instructed not to even tell Cliff’s brothers about … all except for Carl
who was in on that buy and even asked that most of his personal gun collection
be stored by Cliff. This was for
multiple reasons, but biggest one was Mrs. Montgomery but the other one was
because he was going through a rough break up with his longtime girlfriend
whose parents had suddenly taken to hating cops in general and him in
particular because a friend was busted for taking a swing at a cop during a
traffic stop.
Together
with Cliff, Uncle Carmichael and Mr. Montgomery went over all of the small
machines regularly used on the farm and bought things like bar oil and extra
chains for the chainsaw, special oils, and lubricants and to be honest I don’t
know what all. I left that up to Cliff
because Aunt Rachel requires a lot more time than she did before. Her hip may not have been broken but she was
still pretty banged up and not getting around too well on her own.
I
jumped when Cliff asked, “Got that list together?”
After
forcing myself to relax I answered, “I looked; we’re in good shape.”
Cliff
stopped what he was doing and sighed. “Gypsy
…”
I
winced. “So I made a mistake?”
“Yeah,”
he said using a tone that said he didn’t want to start a fight but that it was
important. “I need a list. One like we got from the dads … uh … dad and
uncle.”
I
turned to look at him and saw something that gave me worse shivers than the
news had; Cliff was scared. I’d never
seen him scared; ever. Not even during
the riot.
“Cliff?”
“Don’t
freak out on me Gypsy. We’ve got to keep
our heads in the game.”
“I’m
trying not to.” I mentally shook
myself. “Ok, serious I think we are OK
on groceries. But … look, you know that
canning stuff I ordered?”
“Yeah.”
“It
would be really good if it has come in and you pick it up.”
“What
else?” he asked.
“Pastas,
rice, vinegar, dried beans, ammonia, lemon juice, borax, honey, white and brown
sugar, bleach tablets …”
“Whoa,
when you start a list …”
“I
looked up Depression Era and World War II cooking and living when Uncle
Carmichael flipped a switch and kept growling about it.”
“’K. I’m gonna change shirts. Can you write down the list?”
I
did just that adding bulk oatmeal, grits, wheat berries, and more dried milk
and eggs. I also made a call.
Cliff
came in the kitchen right as I was hanging up.
“Phones
are up?”
“Local
calls only but yeah,” I said reminding myself to tell him what Uncle Carmichael
had said and to ask him if he’d heard from his dad or brothers. “I got through to Mr. Oppenheim at the
Mennonite grocery. He said the canning
stuff came in this morning. He is also
pulling an order for all this stuff on the list. Instead of the store he wants you to pull in
the warehouse entrance and his son will show you where to go from there. This is pay back for helping his brother when
his buggy broke down.”
“Hey,
I didn’t
“Shut
up Cliff. This is the way things work
around here. Take this cash and …”
“Holy
****! Where did THAT come from?!”
“Aunt
Rachel’s Bank of Sealy.”
“Oh
no. You ain’t saying …?!”
“She’s
got a grudge against the bank for charging her a fee for something back in the
60s. And yes I know how crazy that
sounds. The only reason she has a bank
account at all is because of her social security and pension checks started
requiring direct deposit. I’m her payee –
Uncle Carmichael set it up – and he and I emptied things out making like it was
to pay her medical bills.”
Cliff
shook his head like we were all crazy, not just Aunt Rachel. “Explain it to me later. I gotta run.”