Page 63 of Under the Weatherman
I waved and backed away from the havoc, hoping she’d forget what she saw, hoping she wouldn’t file a complaint, hoping she wouldn’t extrapolate from one compromising position that I was open to interoffice romance—or worse, abusing my position to harass a coworker. What had I been thinking?
Elizabeth scurried by, head down, and slipped through the control room, like I didn’t exist, and I couldn’t blame her.
The intensity only increased through the rest of the afternoon, until soon the whole studio buzzed with anticipation of the evening news broadcast. My first weather forecast on my own.
I took my place before the green screen where an assistant mic’d me. Just before the top of the hour, Lauren counted us down, and the red light indicated we were on air.
The butterflies loosed in my belly, but I took a page from my own wisdom and imagined nobody existed beyond the camera. I straightened my tie and touched my hair, trusting nothing had changed in my appearance in the ten minutes since I’d looked in the mirror.
Sandra read from the teleprompter, “November brings a nice change in the weather, but here at Charlottesville News, Sports, and Weather, we’re not just talking about cooling temperatures. Tonight, we’re pleased to welcome our new meteorologist, Evan Spurlock, joining our team at six and eleven.”
The light on the camera directly in front of me switched on, and I caught Sandra rolling her eyes before I faced forward with a folksy grin plastered on my face. I didn’t usually rely on a teleprompter, but tonight, I was glad I had one. I might stumble if nerves got to me.
“Good evening, Charlottesville. This is a homecoming for me, since I grew up in the Piedmont, and I’m also a university of Virginia grad. Go Cavs!” I winced at how lame it sounded in the quiet studio. “I look forward to serving the Central Virginia community with up-to-the-minute weather forecasts.”
The camera switched back to Sandra and Kent, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d get back into the habit of speaking live on-air, but it would never come naturally to me. I’d always prefer the behind-the-scenes research.
After sports, we went to commercial, and I checked my hair, my tie, my teeth, and adjusted my glasses. I’d gone over the models all afternoon, and I just needed to get through my first forecast and build some confidence.
Suddenly, Elizabeth’s voice was in my ear. “We’re back in ten, nine…”
I straightened up, looking at the camera as if I’d be speaking only to her. It was good to hear her so confident, and I hoped I’d given her solid advice. Was she thinking of me naked now? I squeezed my fists to shut out the intrusive thought. Now was not the time to blush.
“Eight, s-seven, sex.” She gasped, then a burst of raucous laughter echoed in the studio. “SIX. Fuck. Five, four…” I threw a spiteful glance at Kent, losing the count in the silence of an impliedthree,two,one, then the on-air light came on.
Sandra kept her professional demeanor as she re-introduced me. My camera lit, and then she dropped her head on her desk, shoulders shaking.
I blinked once, twice, and then Elizabeth said, “Evan,” and my training kicked in.
The monitor facing me displayed the map that would appear on the green screen. Confident viewers would see temperatures throughout the area, I gestured across the blank wall. “For tonight, we can expect dropping temperatures, approaching freezing in Waynesboro. A little warmer in the Valley.” I used my airline pilot voice, smooth and inoffensive, as I let my hand float over the points on the map I wanted to highlight.
“Into the weekend, a cold front will be pushing this way.” A new graphic depicted an air mass butting up against the Blue Ridge Mountains. I turned to run my hand along the valley on the other side of Afton, saying, “We expect mounting pressure to slide up under this low pressure system and thrust it over the mountain. If that happens, we can expect precipitation.”
I glanced at the floor monitor, to verify the animation showed the possible trajectory, and that was how I discovered I was stroking a penis-shaped weather system. Had it always looked that way or had talking to Elizabeth turned everything into a euphemism? I hoped my makeup hid any signs I was dying as I continued to predict the ten-day forecast, turning to the anchors to wrap up. “And that could mean snow by Thanksgiving.”
Sandra’s eyes were wide, but her voice remained steady as she said, “That would certainly be a surprise.”
I grinned, stoic. “Tonight, though, clear skies will give us a great view of that Beaver moon.”
Kent snorted, and in my ear piece, I heard a whispered, “That’s what she said.”
Oh, fuck. Had I really just said that? I tried to salvage it, but my mouth had gone dry as cotton. “Which, as you know, is what we call a full moon in November.”
“Thank you, Evan,” Sandra said, taking back the focus.
I ripped my microphone and headset off to scurry back to the weather office where I immediately called Bas to find out if he’d been watching. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I was making it out. But by the laughter that greeted me, I knew it had been every bit as bad as I was making it out.
I dropped into a chair, my forehead resting on my palms, and tried to talk myself down from the ledge.
Five minutes, I reminded myself. In five minutes, this would be in the distant past, and nobody would remember it.
When the knock came on the door frame, I half expected to find Lauren or even Shelby ready to read me the riot act, but it was Elizabeth. I started to crack a joke about the debacle of a weather report, but she frowned. “I am so sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
She sighed. “I feel like I keep fucking things up around here, and I didn’t mean to bring you down with me.”
I crossed the room, keeping her beyond arm’s reach. “No, that was all on me. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I’m kind of camera shy at first.”
