Chapter ONE
A forecast of tornadoes on any Sunday would invariably generate a warm and fuzzy feeling in nine year old Michael York. The prospect of a multiple spawning and any description containing catastrophic, deadly or his ideal “really really dangerous” that could surely flatten his town - God willing – was heaven sent. Michael did not desire Armageddon, rather his prayer was simply for a scary enough forecast for it genuinely removed church and Uncle Jerry from the calendar. Not that he feared them more than a twister but they told the same old story. The preacher would huff and puff about thanking Jesus for dying for us which Michael didn’t see as a big deal seeing Jesus’s dad fixed him up in three days whereas his grandad died in Vietnam a month after losing his legs and never came back even though Jesus was asked repeatedly to fix him up. Informing the preacher of his opinion saw him blessed with one on one bible coaching from Mrs. Higgins which regrettably ended in her spitting the dummy and retiring permanently from God’s work.
Uncle Jerry was worse than church for he lacked fire and brimstone and sin and his stories were all about nothing more than golf, probably because he owned a golf store in the capital. His monthly visits, always on a twister free Sunday saw Michael quickly left alone with him and being trained to hold a golf club, and his tongue, while his parents had urgent chores to attend to. The opening salvo was always about demeaning Michael’s town of ten thousand god-fearing souls. Jerry would call the town ‘Albatross’ and ask Michael if he knew what that meant. He had never waited for an answer in three years, rather he would go straight into his spiel, explaining if you scored five on a par five that was the score a good player should average. One under par was a birdie, two under par was an eagle and three under par was an albatross, like hey that’s really sub- par, like Vinnieville. He’d chuckle and then he’d pull out the big one, informing Michael an albatross on a par four was three under or a hole in one respect. He’d repeat the hole in one respect and he’d say hole and pause before adding in one respect. Then he would unnecessarily say, “Just like the town of Albatross.” More chuckling, mostly from Michael who would chuck in a high five and occasionally a genuine hug, for the presents Jerry brought were worth a million hugs and being nice for a little while didn’t really hurt. It was of course much better on a twister Sunday as Jerry would always phone and say he had no choice but to send the presents by a huge truck and Michael was never available when he rang his mother to let her know. The truck always turned out to be the postman with a little parcel but that was ok as he would always choose wisely by buying what Michael said he liked. Jerry did listen between talking too much.
Michael worked in his father’s store after school. It was started by his mother’s great great great grandfather in the nineteenth century, selling guns mainly. These days it sold anything to do with the outdoors and was called the Outdoors Palace. Michael’s preferred role was to hang around the guns section. He was a better salesman than his father and able to answer any question posed except when it came to his opinion on gun laws. His father had banned the subject following the abuse Michael suffered at the hands of a good customer and the consequential loss of his business. Further, his skills went beyond the direct sales side through clever innovative thought such as insisting the candy section down the back be moved so anyone interested in guns had to pass through it. His reasoning was simple, if you’re out hunting for hours you needed sustenance. While his father was dubious it was successful in lifting sales, much of which was disposed of by customers before it hit the outside air. Michael personally contributed to a small degree in ensuring stocks remained fresh.
His father, although a blow in from Oregon after he met his mother, seemed to be liked, although Michael was aware Mr. Maloney who ran a deli down the road was upset about his father selling candy. A girl called Jane who was fourteen and worked in the Outdoors Palace said Maloney was weird and none of the kids liked going there which is one reason why they came to the Outdoors Palace. The reason they bought so much she put down to her gift of persuasion and one day she said she would work for a big bank like Lehman Brothers like her uncle did. Michael believed her, she somehow managed to get him to do all the boring and dirty jobs.
It was the first day of fall when Michael rolled up for work after school and found the store closed. A boy he knew whispered to him that Jane had been found dead in the lane behind the store. He ran home to find the sheriff talking to his father in the living room. Ushered out by his mother he learned someone had killed Jane the previous night and the sheriff had a duty to talk to her boss and others. The store was closed as a sign of respect. It reopened the following day, many customers said how sad it was and some asked Michael if he was coping. He was not sure whether they meant was he coping with all the extra work or because it was awful she was deceased. He would never think of, or use terms like died or killed or murdered as his mother said deceased is what the police say and they know best.
A week after the murder, men came to Michael’s house and talked to his father. They later carried away clothes in plastic bags. His mother told him it was normal and everyone who might have hurt Jane would be tested and this would clear them. He wondered why he was not tested as Jane had told him off not long before she became deceased and he had yelled at her. The wonder turned to worry he might be taken away one day. Nevertheless he did not confess they had fought. That made him worry more, especially when he worried in church.
On the fourth Sunday after the ‘tragedy’ as everyone called it, Michael was walking to church with his parents and a friend walking towards them with his mother waved at him. The mother grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him across the road. In church no one sat next them. He sensed something was wrong and on questioning his mother he was none the wiser. All mother would say is people like to be nasty. The following week saw fewer people each day enter the store and when his father became ill on the Friday he learned it would be closed until his father recovered.
Two months passed with no sign of his father going back to work. He never went out, just sat all day in the living room and didn’t talk a lot. Michael was showing his father the latest present from Uncle Jerry when the doorbell rang. It rarely rang these days and it caused his father to slump back in his chair and close his eyes. Michael looked around and saw his mother with the sheriff. She asked him to go to his room. He lay on his bed recalling what a boy at school had told him, that his father would get the chair if Jane’s dad didn’t shoot him first. He cried. For the first time. As the tears dried up he saw his mother at the door, tears streaming down her face. She sat on the bed and hugged him. “It’s all over Mikey, it’s all over. Your dad has been cleared. Everything’s alright.” They were words he would never forget.
The store reopened and closed within the month. Few customers came, and no one sat next to them in church and they never went back. Michael didn’t feel it was all over. He came home from school two days after the store closed and could not find anyone. The last place he looked was the garage, where he saw his father hanging from a rafter. He ran to him and hung on to his legs, trying to support him while screaming out for help. It was some time later when they found him. The screaming had stopped. They had to forcefully prise him away.