Page 107 of Possibly Texas

I slid another slice of toast atop the pile of eggs and bacon and pressed it down with the palm of my hand.

“Breakfast panini,” I proclaimed, holding the sandwich up as I spun to look at Jack. “Kind of.”

Jack grinned at my ridiculousness, just as the sky belched out another roll of thunder. The two of us froze as the house rumbled along with the thunder. When things were still and quiet again, Jack started to sign.

“I promise I’ll be careful,” I stopped him. “It will literally take me forty-five seconds to get to Starbuck’s.”

Jack’s whole body straightened and fell, as though he sighed. Then he waved me off with a tight smile.

Up to you. Be careful. He hadn’t written it down again or showed it to me again, but I knew what he had meant by the movement.

“Thanks for the breakfast, man,” I said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Jack signed “goodbye” to me and I responded verbally, then I jogged out the front door. As I hustled across the front yard, taking a giant bite from my sandwich—and losing a few of my scrambled eggs in the process—it dawned on me that Jack hadn’t been playing the radio as he normally did in the mornings. The reason that it occurred to me so suddenly was that in the distance, from the speaker mounted on the pole alongside the road down the street from Jack’s had Amos’ voice pouring from it. I had walked outside just as he was announcing the song of the day. Probably for the twentieth time that morning.

“You’ve been listening to AMOR, the most popular radio station in Possibly, Texas. All day long from 6am to 6pm. That was Tiptoe Thru’ the Tulips with Me by Tiny Tim. Next up—Tiptoe Thru’ the Tulips with Me by Tiny Tim!”

When the opening ukulele sounds poured from the speaker as I jogged along the road and Tiny Tim’s falsetto began, a shiver ran up my spine. Veins of lightning zig-zagged through the heavy, inky clouds overhead, and thunder clapped in the distance. Growing closer and closer, coming from the east past Susurrus Creek, the thunder rolled through town as the clouds produced their light spectacle. The pavement underfoot shook angrily. I picked up my pace and my jog turned into a run. I stuffed the rest of the sandwich down my gullet, choking it down like a python as I raced to work.

The rain was going to come any moment. I just knew it. When it came, it wasn’t going to drop sprinkles and droplets in a delicate dance. The clouds would open up and begin dumping every last bit of rain they held, punishing the land below. I would be soaked within seconds. Buckets would pour down and I’d have no other choice but to either show up to Starbuck’s soaking wet or run back to Jack’s and not show up for work.

Once the rain started, I had no idea how long it would last, but the clouds overhead practically screamed that their fury would not burn out quickly.

Jogging along the road, I’d barely made it past Bend of the Road Graveyard and was just approaching Liberty Lane when thunder crackled overhead. It wasn’t a rumble or a boom, but more like someone had lit a trail of gunpowder. Stopping at the end of Liberty Lane, my head crooked back to look up at the darkness overhead. Lightning crackled through the sky like a Tesla coil and another shiver ran up my spine as the thunder popped and hissed.

Even the lightning wasn’t enough to fully illuminate the sky overhead. It turned patches of the black clouds into dark and light gray, but their intensity wasn’t diminished by the flashing. The Possibilian breeze returned, blowing in off Susurrus Creek as I stared at the sky. First, like a whisper, then as a howl that blew my hair back on my head, ruffling it as the lightning crackled on.

There was no way that lightning could last for as long as the storm managed, but like most things in Possibly, it defied logic. Lightning continued to shoot veins through the clouds overhead as another crackle of thunder hissed across the sky.

Where was the rain?

A thundering boom emanated from the sky, making me jerk and duck down, as though I could hide from the menace above me. The sudden boom nearly knocked me from my feet from the surprise. Tiny Tim’s falsetto and ukulele struggled to be heard over the threatening storm.

Just as the thunder tapered off, and the howling wind whipped itself up into a fury, my hair dancing on my head like a whirlwind, the back door of The Pueblo burst open. My head whipped around to see what had caused the sudden movement on the otherwise still street. Had the wind blown the door off of its hinges?

Lilly marched out the backdoor of The Pueblo, a look of fury on her red face. Clad in her ever-present bib overalls and long-sleeved shirt, her boots stomping at the ground, she marched from the backdoor of The Pueblo and across the grassy patch behind it. She stomped across the tram tracks and into the center of Liberty Lane, her hands balled into fists at her side. Lightning lit the street like a dance club as Lilly hollered with fury.

“AMOS!”

I shivered again as I stood at the end of the street, watching her glare at the front of AMOR and scream for its proprietor. Students who had been at The Pueblo—including Auggie—were gathering at the backdoor, huddling in a group, anxiously watching Lilly stand in the middle of Liberty Lane and scream. Glancing to my right, Agnes was wheeling herself out of the front of Blooms to try and see what was going.

When would her damn leg heal?

Lilly had screamed so loud even Agnes had heard her. Starbuck and Levi Lee had stepped out the coffee shop and had rounded the building to watch the scene. Even Molly and Sofia were sneaking over from their respective places of work to find out what all the fuss was about. Lilly had the lungs to draw a crowd, and a crowd had heeded the call.

Another crack of thunder and prickle of lightning and the front door of AMOR opened. Amos stepped out onto the sidewalk; a mile-wide smile plastered on his face. Lilly’s arms shook at her sides, and before Amos could cross the width of the sidewalk to step out into the street, another holler ripped through town.

“STOP PLAYING THOSE DAMN SONGS!” Lilly demanded, fury pouring off of her. The wind howled down the street, people’s hair rustling and the fabric of their shirts and pants whipping around like flags. “I’M A LESBIAN AMOS! I AIN’T NEVER GONNA LOVE YOU LIKE THAT!”

A murmur—that wasn’t the breeze for once—rippled through town and my mouth turned into an “O” as I stared at the scene unfolding before me.

“Stop all your damn nonsense and give it up, man!” Lilly hollered with finality.

When I whipped my head to the side to look at Amos, he was crestfallen, his chin nearly on his chest as he looked down at the sidewalk. Lilly had begun marching back towards The Pueblo when I looked back in her direction. She stomped over the tram tracks, across the grassy patch behind The Pueblo, and barreled through her students, back inside. When I looked back over at AMOR, Amos was nowhere to be seen, but the front door of the radio station was closed once more.

Exchanging a few glances with the art students—even Auggie—and the other Possibilians who had come out to observe the show, I was unsure of what to do. Auggie had even frowned at me and raised his shoulders, confused as I was as to what was happening.

But we had all finally figured out why Amos operated the radio station in the way that he did.