As the sun slipped beneath the horizon, the beach was bathed in twilight, the soft sounds of waves lapping against the shore mingling with the lighthearted chatter of Brian’s crew. The initial tension from earlier in the day had faded, replaced by a warm camaraderie that felt like a comforting blanket. Laughter bounced between them, and the salty air mixed with the faint aroma of snacks left over from their beach picnic.
Brian, sitting slightly apart from the group, was enjoying the fading light, a quiet smile playing on his lips. Just as the peace settled in, his phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of the moment. He glanced at the screen and saw his mom’s name illuminated against the darkening sky.
“Hey, Mom,” he answered, his voice brightening at the sound of her familiar tone.
“Hey, baby. It’s raining, and I’m just nervous, I guess,” she replied, her voice laced with that all-too-familiar hint of anxiety.
Brian’s heart sank a little at the sound of her worried tone. Even after all this time, he could sense the unease. “Momma, you’re safe. You’ve got the kit ready, and the car’s gassed up. If you see any flooding, just leave. No one’s judging,” he reassured her, trying to keep his tone calm and steady, as he always did when she started to panic.
“I know, baby. I just want to talk,” she replied, her voice softening.
Brian leaned back on his elbows, gazing out at the darkening ocean. He could see the last remnants of sunlight glimmering on the waves, but his mind was back home, picturing her in their small house in New Orleans, probably sitting by the window, watching the rain fall.
“Okay, Mom,” he said gently. “Talk to me. What’s got you so worried?”
“It’s just rain,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But every time it starts, I can’t help but think of all the times we’ve had to evacuate, all the things we’ve lost.” The emotion in her voice hit him hard, a reminder of their shared history of storms and flooding. Memories of Hurricane Katrina flooded his mind—the chaos, the fear, the loss. He wished he could be there with her, to hold her hand through the storm.
“Mom, I know it’s hard,” he said softly, his heart aching for her. “But you’ve prepared for this. You’re strong, and you’ve gotten through so much already.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could almost hear her taking a deep breath, steadying herself. “I just... don’t want to feel that helpless again. It’s hard to shake off.”
“I get it,” he replied, his voice low and comforting. “You don’t have to do it alone. If things get bad, I’ll come down there. I’ll drive straight through if I have to. You’ll never have to go through this alone again.”
Another pause, and then he heard her let out a shaky breath. “You always know what to say, don’t you? Thank you, Brian. I miss you. Sometimes I feel so alone here, especially when it rains. It reminds me of everything we went through.”
“You’re not alone, Mom. You have the kit, and you’re ready. And I’ll always be just a phone call away,” he reassured her, picturing the emergency kit they’d put together after Katrina—flashlights, food, water, and all the essentials. “Do you want to go through it together? Just to make sure you’ve got everything you need?”
“That would be nice,” she replied, her voice steadier now. “You always knew how to keep me calm.”
“Just checking in is enough,” he said. “Tell me what you see out the window. Is it heavy rain or just a drizzle?”
“It’s just light rain for now,” she said, and he could hear her moving around, probably glancing outside to check the weather. “But the forecast said it could get worse, and it makes me anxious. I just hate feeling like this.”
“It’s okay to feel that way, Mom. Remember, you’re doing everything right. You’ve got your kit ready, and you know what to do. If you need to, you can always leave. Just stay calm.”
Their conversation drifted for a while as they discussed the weather, the neighbors, and even some funny memories from Brian’s childhood—like the time he tried to help her with the garden and ended up with dirt all over his face. He cherished these moments of normalcy amidst the storm clouds that hung over their past.
“Brian,” she said suddenly, her voice softening again, “I’m so proud of you. I don’t think I say that enough. You’ve grown into such a strong man, and you always put others before yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he replied, feeling warmth wash over him. “That means a lot. I learned from the best.”
“Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too,” she said, a hint of worry creeping back into her tone.
“I will,” he promised. “I’m good, I swear. I’m with my family here, and they’ve got my back. I’m in a good place.”
“You know I worry about you,” she said, her voice a mixture of love and concern. “Being away from home isn’t easy for me. But I know you’re happy with your friends, and that eases my heart a little.”
He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made him smile too. “You should try to relax tonight. Watch a movie, maybe. You deserve it.”
“Maybe I will,” she said, sounding more relaxed. “And thank you for talking to me. It really helps.”
“Anytime, Mom. Just call me if it gets bad, okay?”
“I will, I promise,” she assured him.
After hanging up, Brian took a moment to breathe, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in. It was tough to see her struggle, still haunted by their past. His thoughts drifted back to the day they had evacuated during Hurricane Katrina—the frantic rush, the fear, the uncertainty. Even now, he could remember the chaos of that day, the sirens, the water rising higher and higher, the feeling of helplessness settling in his stomach like a stone.
He stood up and walked back over to his friends, who had gathered around a small fire they had started. The flames flickered warmly against the evening chill, and the soft sounds of their laughter filled the air.
“Everything okay?” Dom asked, looking up from where he was arranging the wood.
“Yeah, my mom just gets nervous when it rains,” Brian replied, leaning against a nearby rock, watching the fire dance. “She still lives in New Orleans and never left after everything that happened. She’s still haunted by the storms.”
Mia looked up from where she sat, concern etched on her face. “That must be hard for you. I can’t imagine what it’s like for her.”
“It is,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “She just worries a lot. But she’s strong. She’s gotten through so much, and I remind her of that.”
Letty nodded, empathy in her eyes. “It’s good that you talk to her. That must help both of you. You can’t carry that weight alone.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Brian replied, feeling the warmth of their understanding wash over him. “But it’s tough seeing her like that.”
“Family is everything,” Dom said, his voice firm. “We’re all here for you, and we’ll always support each other. No matter what.”
Brian felt a surge of gratitude at their words, the warmth of their support washing over him like the waves lapping at the shore. He wasn’t alone in this, and neither was his mom. They had each other, just like he had them.
As the night settled in, the stars began to twinkle overhead, a canvas of shimmering lights against the dark sky. The fire crackled softly, and the warmth enveloped them, a reminder that even amidst the storms of life, there was always a light to guide them home.
YOU ARE READING
Through the storm
Fanfiction"As storms rage outside, both literal and emotional, Brian grapples with his past trauma while striving to support his loved ones through their challenges."
