Rain Prologue/Chapter 1
Rain. The only word you really understood.
“Why won’t you ever say my name, Gee?”
“Rain.”
Mom always talked about how it was your first word instead of the standard ‘mom’ or ‘dad’. Come to think of it, it was your only word. You always constantly tried to imitate all the words you heard, but they never came out clearly. So, you gave up.
“I hate you.”
“Hhhhaaae-”
“H-a-t-e. Hate. Can’t you say it?”
You stared at me blankly.
We never knew exactly what was wrong with you. Mom just liked to say that her oldest son was unique. No matter what you went through, she never took you to a doctor. She notices something was different when you were two and wouldn’t talk. And you didn’t talk until you were four.
Because you mentally stopped growing at age two, you were always treated that way. Every time you demanded attention, you got it which left me feeling neglected. (Far from the truth, actually. Dad always made sure I had some attention.) I didn’t understand why my older brother didn’t go to big kid school like all my preschool friends’ siblings did. I didn’t understand why it was you and not me crawling into bed with our parents when you were scared to be by yourself. And I didn’t understand why my brother couldn’t be there for me.
When I was twelve, Mom told me why your first and only word was rain.
The day you were born, it was raining. Mom went into labor in the parking lot of the mall. You were born right there on the pavement with the help of a retired schoolteacher. The rain was coming down in droves, and you were screaming so loud that people came out of the mall to see what was going on. And because your mouth was wide open, water got into your mouth and lungs. You almost drowned. Rain.
“It’s just rain… it won’t hurt you.”
You shook your head and sat in that corner, pushing me away.
When you were almost two, mom took you to a park. You quickly tottered to play in the large red tunnel on the play equipment. You hit your head hard on the inside. Mom thought you were still playing, and she read the book she brought alone for two hours. You were unconscious in the tunnel and no one found you for two hours. Mom only started looking for you when it started raining. When she pulled you out of the tunnel, you stirred as the rain hit your face. You cried all night.
“You’re seventeen, Gerard. You’re almost an adult. Adults don’t cry.”
You cried harder.
It’s funny how your life can change in just a matter of seconds. I often wondered if you remembered that day, but I never asked you. Once I saw you playing with one of your many toys, all I cared about was seeing you happy for once. You had a lot of bad days.
Ever since you were two, you hated the rain. Every time there was any, you would cry, point outside, and look at Mom inquisitively. “Rain,” she would always tell you, as you were overdue on talking and she was patiently waiting for you to say something, anything. The first time you said it, I was only one and I was bawling for some reason.
You mimicked Mom’s actions, even though it was a sunny day, and told me, “Rain.”
Mom and Dad were so proud of you and took you out for ice cream. I stayed with the neighbor, being too young to do any celebrating. I doubt you even knew what you did, but for a few months after that occasion, Mom’s face lit up whenever you said your word. I didn’t get anything big when I said my first words. Just a peck on the cheek from our mom.
“I don’t see why you’re the favorite… I can say lots of words, and I’m smarter. Why doesn’t Mommy love me more?”
My life changed when I was sixteen you were nineteen. You had been running through the house and fell. It literally took all day for mom to calm you down. Late that night you crawled into my bed like you had for three years. I was half asleep at that point and was slowly drifting off when I heard you speak in your childish voice.
“Mikey, what’s wrong with me?”
“Mom says I shouldn’t treat you so different just cuz you’re not like me. I love you, Gerard.”
The only other words you said since you were two.
I looked over my shoulder at you, but you were already fast asleep. I questioned you the next day, but you only smiled at me.
“Rain.”
Love? Hate? Con-crit greatly appreciated.