Three Writings
Rain
Kate sat on the ledge of the railing around her balcony. It was pouring. She loved rain. It was perfect. Daniel was going to help her get out of this dump. He was going to take her to New York, where she was going to become a famous writer. And if it didn’t work out, that didn’t matter, because they were in love.
Daniel got out of the car, ran over and nearly knocked her over with a long, deep kiss. It sent a surge of adrenaline through her, and she was ready to do anything.
“Are you ready?” It was simple, of course she was ready, she’d been planning this since she was ten.
Kate nodded, the water was dripping down her face, and she licked it off. “Of course!”
She ran across the wet grass in her tank top and jean shorts, and got in the car.
***
The phone rang. Kate ran over to it and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Kate?”
“Daniel? Oh, thank god! I was so worried, you were supposed to be back a week ago, and I couldn’t get a hold of you, and you weren’t answering your cell and-”
“Kate?”
“Yes honey?”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why, what’s going on? Daniel?”
“Listen, I’m in Toronto, and I’m not coming back.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve met someone. You’d really like her. Kate, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
“But-”
“Kate, you’re a great girl, but you’re just not the one, she is. Goodbye.”
Why had she gotten in that car? Kate thought to herself. Why had she fallen for him?
How dare he “meet some one else.” How dare he leave her here, with no friends, and no money. How dare he!
He’s probably fallen for some tramp, she thought.
She threw the phone across the room. Then she got up and put it back on the hook, if only to do something other than think. A part of her, for a second, considered phoning him back, and then he was in her mind, his face, and she knew he meant it.
And then, she cried. She cried until there was no more water left to cry. And she licked off her tears, just as she had licked off that rain a year ago, naive and innocent. And look how he had left her.
The phone rang. “What now?!” She picked it up.
“Miss Emerson?”
Her stomach knotted. “Yes?”
“It’s Dr. Carson. Miss Emerson, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re pregnant.”
Kate froze. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was not happening to her. She just sat there, terrified.
“Miss Emerson? Are you there? Miss Emerson?”
She slammed the phone down on its base.
And then, as she curled up, her face in her hands and she was silent, and the only sound was the pounding of the rain.
Always Raining
The screams of a new mother as she yells at her husband and squeezes his hand until it turns blue. A sigh, and then tears of happiness as she is presented with her new born son.
The cries of a baby as he teethes, soothed by a mother’s soft coos mixed in with the dribble of rain.
The first fall, reassured by his father as he gets up and tries to walk again. “You’re doing it, son!”
The tears when he falls after riding his first bike, scraping his elbows and knees, but this time, he gets up on his own, soaked to the bone from the muddy puddle he slid into. “I told you we should have waited until it was sunny.” A simple boyish grin and the shake of drenched arms.
The pain of looking behind his shoulder and getting on the unknown bus for his first day of school, but a smile when she says he can sit next to her.
The skid of a young boy, sliding on to home base, and the slight wince that goes unnoticed in the cheers of victory.
The first broken leg, and a cast, signed by everyone he meets.
The butterflies before that first kiss, and then the joy when it’s perfect.
The stabbing of his first broken heart, the pounding of the rain the only thing to wash away his tears.
The frantic dance of burned fingers when he touches the hot stove at his first job. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”
The punch of a shoulder from his best friend as they graduate, and the slight rub that they both laugh over.
The joy and rush of his first time, and then the familiar pain of another broken heart.
The anger when his father dies, the pounding of his fists and the kicking of his feet and the burn as he screams at the top of his lungs and then the sting of his tears. Why is it always raining? “Can’t you let the sun shine, God?!”
The hungry emptiness for months after, the mourning lost to anger and blame and denial. And then, he lets himself cry. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…” Repeated, over and over, a mantra of pain as his fingers tug at his unwashed hair.
The slow and creeping guilt as he rebuilds his life, and then the familiar maternal embrace he receives when he smiles again.
The fear when he meets someone new. Fear of a broken heart, of denial. But it never comes.
The sharp anxiety when he asks her, and the joyous kiss when she says yes.
They say rain on a wedding day brings good luck. It was still bittersweet for him.
The pain of having his hand squeezed until it went blue, and then the pure pride when the doctor shows him his newborn daughter.
The fatigue when he rolls over and hears his daughter’s cries again, and then the tiny smile when she says “Mmm, it’s your turn.”
The wince as she falls, and the softness of her skin as he helps her stand up and try again. “You’re doing it, honey.”
Her first ballet lesson, and the wince when she smacks into a wall. Then a laugh when she falls. Grace has to be worked on, but beauty? No one could deny it.
The pain of frantic goodbyes when he sees her off for her first day of school. It’s raining again, but her smile when she gets home could make the sun shine on its own.
The broken arm when she falls off the monkey bars, and then he sees just how many friends she has, and he can’t help but smile.
The anger when some stupid boy made his daughter cry. The frantic questions, put off by a tear-filled laugh. “You aren’t going to kill him, daddy.”
When his mother dies, the pain is familiar, but watching his daughter cry over grandma has got to be the hardest thing he has ever done. It rained at her funeral.
The senior prom, and the bittersweet realization that his baby girl is growing up.
The stabbing pride as he walks his daughter down the isle, but that boy’s arm has got to hurt when he squeezes it and warns him not to make her cry.
The flashing of the lights as the ambulance picks him up, and the hospital noises as he slowly drifts away. And then he realizes that death doesn’t hurt so much, what hurts is his wife and his daughter’s fading screams. The soft reassurances of the man beside his daughter, the father of his unborn grandchild, and the fact that he’ll never be there as it grows up.
“Is it raining?” He asks before he dies. “Yes, daddy, it’s raining, why?”
He smiles at the bitter perfection of it all. “It’s always raining.” The rain comes with the pain now. It’s no longer separate, it’s just a part of it. And sometimes, it’s the only thing there to comfort him and wash away his tears. He briefly wonders whether it’ll be raining in heaven, but before the lights and the voices and the pounding of the rain fade away into oblivion, he realizes something. There is no pain in heaven.
Dreams
Beep…beep…beep…beep…
“Lily? Lily can you hear me?”
Lily slowly opened her eyes. “I…” She looked around. She was in a hospital room, quite clearly. “Where am I?”
“St. Peter’s, Lily. You’re in the hospital. There was an incident, and…and you lost a lot of blood.”
“An incident?”
The nurse winced. “It must be hard for you, take some time to remember.”
Lily shook her head at the nurse. “Remember what? What happened to me?” She sat up and winced. Now she could feel the bandages around her stomach and around her head.
“Your parents, they, they’re dead.”
Lily just sat there for a while, staring at the white walls, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Dead?” The nurse nodded.
The look the nurse gave her was filled with pity, but also a bit of confusion. “Your brother, Michael, he’s not going to be around for a long while.”
Lily gave her a look that said ‘What are you talking about?’, but the nurse just frowned and shook her head.
“You get some more sleep. You’ve had a very traumatic experience.”
Lily nodded and watched the nurse walk away, her mind dwelling on what she couldn’t remember as she fell into sleep.
A woman’s scream. Mom! I run into the house. The door slams.
“MOM!” I run into the bedroom, where I heard the scream. There they lay, necks sliced, blood soaked bed, another scream, me, and there he is, holding the knife that killed them. “Michael-uh!” A stabbing pain, warm blood on my fingers, and a thump and a flash of light, before the slamming of a door.
Lily woke up panting in a cold sweat, holding her bandaged stomach. The nurse was at her side, shaking her gently. “Lily, Lily, are you okay?”
She sat up. What was wrong? “Yes. Why?”
The nurse’s eyes widened. “Well, you screamed.”
“I did?”
“Yes. Lily, did you have a nightmare?”
“No, I don’t dream.” She yawned. “But I am tired again.” She curled up against her pillow again. The nurse didn’t leave.
A lullaby, I’m swinging. A voice, young, me. “Mommy, mommy, push me!” A push, a rush, the sunlight, clouds, blue sky, singing.
“And once upon a time, there was a girl, and she was mine, and once upon a time, there was a boy, and he was me, and once upon a time she swore that she’d remember me!”
A giggle. “Michael, are you mooning over Brrrrridddget again?”
A blush, a smile, “Shut up, Lily-fields, she’s prettier than you!”
A voice, and another push. “Michael! Be nice to your sister!”
Darkness. A scream. A woman. Mom! A door slam. “MOM!” A creak, and there they lay, neck sliced, blood soaked sheets, and there he stands.
“She swore she’d remember me, remember me, remember me, my darling she was mine. And she swore that she’d remember me, remember me, remember me, my darling she was mine!”
“Lily-fields, come play come play!” A tug, on my braids. Grass under my legs. “Michael, I’m trying to study!”
“I know Lily-fields, but you’re already much smarter than me, why can’t you come pla-ay?”
“Fine!” A scream and a stabbing pain. Warm blood trickling over my fingers.
“Lily, Lily, stop it!”
“Wha-what? Huh? Oh. Why did you wake me up? Is it time for school?”
“Lily, you’re in the hospital.”
And then it hit her. Oh. The hospital. Her parents-- dead.
***
Five years later.
“And that’s your mum, she was beautiful, and that’s your father. He was so handsome. His father-in-law didn’t agree much. And that’s you, the cutie. You always used to wear those little pig-tails. They were adorable.”
But someone was cut out of the picture.
“Who was there?”
“No one, silly, you never mind.”
“Oh.”
Lily still didn’t remember any of her dreams.
And yes, I like rain, why do you ask? :D
Ta-ta!
Jessi
Kate sat on the ledge of the railing around her balcony. It was pouring. She loved rain. It was perfect. Daniel was going to help her get out of this dump. He was going to take her to New York, where she was going to become a famous writer. And if it didn’t work out, that didn’t matter, because they were in love.
Daniel got out of the car, ran over and nearly knocked her over with a long, deep kiss. It sent a surge of adrenaline through her, and she was ready to do anything.
“Are you ready?” It was simple, of course she was ready, she’d been planning this since she was ten.
Kate nodded, the water was dripping down her face, and she licked it off. “Of course!”
She ran across the wet grass in her tank top and jean shorts, and got in the car.
***
The phone rang. Kate ran over to it and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Kate?”
“Daniel? Oh, thank god! I was so worried, you were supposed to be back a week ago, and I couldn’t get a hold of you, and you weren’t answering your cell and-”
“Kate?”
“Yes honey?”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why, what’s going on? Daniel?”
“Listen, I’m in Toronto, and I’m not coming back.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve met someone. You’d really like her. Kate, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
“But-”
“Kate, you’re a great girl, but you’re just not the one, she is. Goodbye.”
Why had she gotten in that car? Kate thought to herself. Why had she fallen for him?
How dare he “meet some one else.” How dare he leave her here, with no friends, and no money. How dare he!
He’s probably fallen for some tramp, she thought.
She threw the phone across the room. Then she got up and put it back on the hook, if only to do something other than think. A part of her, for a second, considered phoning him back, and then he was in her mind, his face, and she knew he meant it.
And then, she cried. She cried until there was no more water left to cry. And she licked off her tears, just as she had licked off that rain a year ago, naive and innocent. And look how he had left her.
The phone rang. “What now?!” She picked it up.
“Miss Emerson?”
Her stomach knotted. “Yes?”
“It’s Dr. Carson. Miss Emerson, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re pregnant.”
Kate froze. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was not happening to her. She just sat there, terrified.
“Miss Emerson? Are you there? Miss Emerson?”
She slammed the phone down on its base.
And then, as she curled up, her face in her hands and she was silent, and the only sound was the pounding of the rain.
Always Raining
The screams of a new mother as she yells at her husband and squeezes his hand until it turns blue. A sigh, and then tears of happiness as she is presented with her new born son.
The cries of a baby as he teethes, soothed by a mother’s soft coos mixed in with the dribble of rain.
The first fall, reassured by his father as he gets up and tries to walk again. “You’re doing it, son!”
The tears when he falls after riding his first bike, scraping his elbows and knees, but this time, he gets up on his own, soaked to the bone from the muddy puddle he slid into. “I told you we should have waited until it was sunny.” A simple boyish grin and the shake of drenched arms.
The pain of looking behind his shoulder and getting on the unknown bus for his first day of school, but a smile when she says he can sit next to her.
The skid of a young boy, sliding on to home base, and the slight wince that goes unnoticed in the cheers of victory.
The first broken leg, and a cast, signed by everyone he meets.
The butterflies before that first kiss, and then the joy when it’s perfect.
The stabbing of his first broken heart, the pounding of the rain the only thing to wash away his tears.
The frantic dance of burned fingers when he touches the hot stove at his first job. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”
The punch of a shoulder from his best friend as they graduate, and the slight rub that they both laugh over.
The joy and rush of his first time, and then the familiar pain of another broken heart.
The anger when his father dies, the pounding of his fists and the kicking of his feet and the burn as he screams at the top of his lungs and then the sting of his tears. Why is it always raining? “Can’t you let the sun shine, God?!”
The hungry emptiness for months after, the mourning lost to anger and blame and denial. And then, he lets himself cry. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…” Repeated, over and over, a mantra of pain as his fingers tug at his unwashed hair.
The slow and creeping guilt as he rebuilds his life, and then the familiar maternal embrace he receives when he smiles again.
The fear when he meets someone new. Fear of a broken heart, of denial. But it never comes.
The sharp anxiety when he asks her, and the joyous kiss when she says yes.
They say rain on a wedding day brings good luck. It was still bittersweet for him.
The pain of having his hand squeezed until it went blue, and then the pure pride when the doctor shows him his newborn daughter.
The fatigue when he rolls over and hears his daughter’s cries again, and then the tiny smile when she says “Mmm, it’s your turn.”
The wince as she falls, and the softness of her skin as he helps her stand up and try again. “You’re doing it, honey.”
Her first ballet lesson, and the wince when she smacks into a wall. Then a laugh when she falls. Grace has to be worked on, but beauty? No one could deny it.
The pain of frantic goodbyes when he sees her off for her first day of school. It’s raining again, but her smile when she gets home could make the sun shine on its own.
The broken arm when she falls off the monkey bars, and then he sees just how many friends she has, and he can’t help but smile.
The anger when some stupid boy made his daughter cry. The frantic questions, put off by a tear-filled laugh. “You aren’t going to kill him, daddy.”
When his mother dies, the pain is familiar, but watching his daughter cry over grandma has got to be the hardest thing he has ever done. It rained at her funeral.
The senior prom, and the bittersweet realization that his baby girl is growing up.
The stabbing pride as he walks his daughter down the isle, but that boy’s arm has got to hurt when he squeezes it and warns him not to make her cry.
The flashing of the lights as the ambulance picks him up, and the hospital noises as he slowly drifts away. And then he realizes that death doesn’t hurt so much, what hurts is his wife and his daughter’s fading screams. The soft reassurances of the man beside his daughter, the father of his unborn grandchild, and the fact that he’ll never be there as it grows up.
“Is it raining?” He asks before he dies. “Yes, daddy, it’s raining, why?”
He smiles at the bitter perfection of it all. “It’s always raining.” The rain comes with the pain now. It’s no longer separate, it’s just a part of it. And sometimes, it’s the only thing there to comfort him and wash away his tears. He briefly wonders whether it’ll be raining in heaven, but before the lights and the voices and the pounding of the rain fade away into oblivion, he realizes something. There is no pain in heaven.
Dreams
Beep…beep…beep…beep…
“Lily? Lily can you hear me?”
Lily slowly opened her eyes. “I…” She looked around. She was in a hospital room, quite clearly. “Where am I?”
“St. Peter’s, Lily. You’re in the hospital. There was an incident, and…and you lost a lot of blood.”
“An incident?”
The nurse winced. “It must be hard for you, take some time to remember.”
Lily shook her head at the nurse. “Remember what? What happened to me?” She sat up and winced. Now she could feel the bandages around her stomach and around her head.
“Your parents, they, they’re dead.”
Lily just sat there for a while, staring at the white walls, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Dead?” The nurse nodded.
The look the nurse gave her was filled with pity, but also a bit of confusion. “Your brother, Michael, he’s not going to be around for a long while.”
Lily gave her a look that said ‘What are you talking about?’, but the nurse just frowned and shook her head.
“You get some more sleep. You’ve had a very traumatic experience.”
Lily nodded and watched the nurse walk away, her mind dwelling on what she couldn’t remember as she fell into sleep.
A woman’s scream. Mom! I run into the house. The door slams.
“MOM!” I run into the bedroom, where I heard the scream. There they lay, necks sliced, blood soaked bed, another scream, me, and there he is, holding the knife that killed them. “Michael-uh!” A stabbing pain, warm blood on my fingers, and a thump and a flash of light, before the slamming of a door.
Lily woke up panting in a cold sweat, holding her bandaged stomach. The nurse was at her side, shaking her gently. “Lily, Lily, are you okay?”
She sat up. What was wrong? “Yes. Why?”
The nurse’s eyes widened. “Well, you screamed.”
“I did?”
“Yes. Lily, did you have a nightmare?”
“No, I don’t dream.” She yawned. “But I am tired again.” She curled up against her pillow again. The nurse didn’t leave.
A lullaby, I’m swinging. A voice, young, me. “Mommy, mommy, push me!” A push, a rush, the sunlight, clouds, blue sky, singing.
“And once upon a time, there was a girl, and she was mine, and once upon a time, there was a boy, and he was me, and once upon a time she swore that she’d remember me!”
A giggle. “Michael, are you mooning over Brrrrridddget again?”
A blush, a smile, “Shut up, Lily-fields, she’s prettier than you!”
A voice, and another push. “Michael! Be nice to your sister!”
Darkness. A scream. A woman. Mom! A door slam. “MOM!” A creak, and there they lay, neck sliced, blood soaked sheets, and there he stands.
“She swore she’d remember me, remember me, remember me, my darling she was mine. And she swore that she’d remember me, remember me, remember me, my darling she was mine!”
“Lily-fields, come play come play!” A tug, on my braids. Grass under my legs. “Michael, I’m trying to study!”
“I know Lily-fields, but you’re already much smarter than me, why can’t you come pla-ay?”
“Fine!” A scream and a stabbing pain. Warm blood trickling over my fingers.
“Lily, Lily, stop it!”
“Wha-what? Huh? Oh. Why did you wake me up? Is it time for school?”
“Lily, you’re in the hospital.”
And then it hit her. Oh. The hospital. Her parents-- dead.
***
Five years later.
“And that’s your mum, she was beautiful, and that’s your father. He was so handsome. His father-in-law didn’t agree much. And that’s you, the cutie. You always used to wear those little pig-tails. They were adorable.”
But someone was cut out of the picture.
“Who was there?”
“No one, silly, you never mind.”
“Oh.”
Lily still didn’t remember any of her dreams.
And yes, I like rain, why do you ask? :D
Ta-ta!
Jessi