A Little Rain (12 page)

“No, I went out in the end.”

“You went out?  Why?  What happened?”

“Oh, nothing.  She’s with her Nan.”  It’s not what I
was expecting to hear but instead of more grilling now, fresh tiredness tips
itself all over me like mixer full of cement.  I feel so heavy.  I cannot even
talk anymore.  Or listen.

It’s too hard now to tell if it’s night or morning. 
My eyes are oh-so nearly closed.  I don’t care what time it is.  I start to
fall asleep in the car.  I get the heady feeling of floating softly in and out
of sleep.  Every time I half open my eyes to see my brother, I have never felt
so safe.  When I open my eyes again we are parking up and I see the familiar
sight of what I call home.  Rob’s dingy flat in the street light looks almost
beautiful from the outside.  Shimmering paint, milky in the glow.  A faint, smudgy
portrait of home.  I can almost hear my bed calling out for me.  My feet are
aching, begging me now to take my shoes off.   All my senses saying, girl you
have got to stop, and rest.  Trust me, I could fall asleep forever and then
after.

I try but can’t run to the front door.  It is more
like a shuffly stoopy stumble.  I hear Rob locking the car as I’m opening the
door.  I snap on some lights and turn the heating up high.  We’re in and I’m
just so tired even Rob’s offer of a ready rolled joint isn’t enough to keep me
up.  All I can just about say is, “We can talk more tomorrow.”  I click the
bathroom door closed behind me and pee, head resting on hands between my
knees.  When I get to my room I collapse on my bed in a fully-clothed quivering
heap, like my body has no bones.

I wake up in pitch dark, hair smelling of stale smoke
and my jeans are digging in me.  In the quiet, I shed them like a dead skin
onto the floor.  Feeling cold, I quickly step out of bed to pull on tracksuit
bottoms and a fleece, and then dive back under the covers.  Then I think about
getting up again to get water.  The comfort of my bed is impossible to leave
but my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a cup of sand.  This keeps me awake.  I
leave the warmth reluctantly and feel the all-over chill again.  In the hall
shaking, I hear noise in the darkness.  Rob is mumbling quietly in his room.  I
try and listen but the door is closed and he is talking in sharp whispers.  “Yeah
man, next week.  Bit of a shocker, huh?  Yeah...  Think it’s definitely going
to happen now... Yeah, afraid so.”  I don’t listen any longer.  I’m shaking. 
Too cold.  I step in to the kitchen and can see the time blinking on the
microwave.  It’s 05:37.  I am so going back to bed.  I grab a glass and get
water before rushing back to the warm cocoon of my waiting sanctuary. 
Water-soothed, I drift off again in no time, like I’m gently falling back,
sinking into a deep warm sea.

When I open my eyes again my phone tells me it’s
almost the afternoon.  I smile and pull back my arms hard and hear things
click.  I feel rested and good and momentarily content before the unhappy
memories of last night flood back.  The argument.  The elbow.  The oh-so-close
call.  The wait.  I have never felt so lonely.  But I don’t feel sad now, because
I think of my brother and know that I will never really be alone.  He’s not
like a friend I’ve made, and obviously not like a boyfriend but he will be
there for me, always.  I know that and feel safe.  Today is another day. 
Something new.  Don’t look back.  Learn.  Move on.  I feel like getting drunk. 
Float my joys.  An empty Sunday lies ahead, fresh like a garden of long
untrodden grass.  Such a blissful feeling and soon the pubs will be open.  I
just hope Rob might still be in so we can go together.  He is.  Now at his
door, I hear him snoring in his room.  I put the kettle on to make hot drinks,
tea for Rob, coffee for me.  A little hungry now, I think with deep regret
about all that nice shopping I bought and took back to Benny’s yesterday.  I silently
curse to myself why I bothered to even go out and buy anything at all.  Benny
and his mob have probably eaten it all by now, but at least I don’t have to see
him eating it.  That would be worse.  I leave Rob’s mug on the mantelpiece and
I go and get in the shower.  Half an hour later I’m washed, made up and dressed
for comfort in black jeans, red v-neck sweater and burger splattered boots, now
wiped.  I can hear Rob now shuffling in his bedroom.

“Hey bro… do you want to go for a drink?  The pub is
open.”  I say loudly.

“Nnnngh…”  He makes a noise like he is still
sleeping.  I think he’s gone back to bed.  I know he wants to go out really. 
We have a lot to talk about.

While I wait for him, I do chores.  I pick him out
some clean clothes hanging over the bath on the airer.  I steam iron his jeans,
a blue long sleeve t-shirt and dark grey zip-cardigan and hang them up in the
bathroom.  I use a fabric refresher spray that smells like a spring meadow on a
sunny day.   I close my eyes and see dancing butterflies.  All the darkness of
last night banished away.  I wash up the bowls, cups and cutlery in hot soapy
sink water, in soft bubbles and lemon scented steam.  I dry up with a starchy
white tea towel and put it all away as quietly and carefully as possible, try
not to make crockery chink together too loudly.  The place looks tidier
already.  I sweep the lino with a grey dustpan and brush after wiping all the
crumbs from the surfaces onto the floor with a yellow square sponge.  When I
lift the lid of the bin I notice a smell like rotten fish and bad meat.  I take
out the thin heavy bag quickly, trying to be careful, but still it drips a
grimy trail of bin juice all across the kitchen floor.

When I open the front door, there is movement and I
hear people talking.  They’re right outside, I think from the flat above, on
the stairs, chatting softly, gently laughing, male voices and a woman’s too.  I
turn briefly to look.  I see two men standing on the steps.  They are wearing hoodies,
one’s in a baseball cap, both carry big rucksacks.  The woman stands behind,
smaller than them both, so I cannot see her clearly, just a hint of blonde hair. 
The two men stop talking and turn to look at me and smile.  The one in the cap
looks vaguely familiar.  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, stopped, staring and
holding a bag of dripping rubbish, I just tiny smile back, look down, and quickly
jog to the bin, throw it in and run back inside.  Before I shut the door I listen
to their gentle voices carry on talking, although I cannot hear what they say.  I
go back in and squirt the empty bin with disinfectant spray and the smell now
reminds me of hospitals.  A big improvement on putrid things.   I squirt the
trail of bin juice as well, then wipe that up too with the yellow sponge.

Back in, door shut, I stand with my hands on my hips
surveying my tidy work thinking what can I do next.  “You ok?”  I hear loud,
and in walks Rob wearing the clothes I hung up for him.  “You ready to go?” he
asks.

“I think so.”  I say, looking him up and down,
smiling.

“I need beer!” he says like a caveman and he starts
looking around the floor for something to wear on his feet.  He’s not going to
hang around, so, quick as sticks I tie my bootlaces and pull back my hair into
a twist.  No time to check make up again so just a swoosh of powder and
Vaseline on my lips.  That’s it.  Before I have even checked what’s in my coat
pockets we’re off.  Door shuts thud.

We’re walking to the next local so not the nearest
dive of a pub, but a slightly nicer dive about half a mile away.  A good walk
in the cold air but not quite far enough for me to insist on getting a cab, but
I don’t complain.  It’s worth the walk.  It’s warmer, comfier though a little more
expensiver than the other pub but I like it.  The pool table is easy too with no
silly rules about where to put your pound on the table or winner stays on, none
of that.  It’s just pool with friendly enough people to have a game with, if
you want and when you want.

We stop at the shop to get cigarettes and Rob buys chewing
gum and a redtop paper. “What you wanting gum for?  You want to get lucky or
you just saving me from your dog breath?”  He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t answer.  I
buy a chocolate bar, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, cigarettes, sherbet
dab, bubble gum and a bag of fizzy cola bottles.  The man in the shop has to
give me a blue carrier bag to put it all in.  Rob mutters something I don’t
hear.  I just smile at him.
Breakfast
!  I tear the wrapper off my
chocolate and stand still to eat it.  The taste is indescribably blissful,
creamy, smooth and deep.  I let it melt in my mouth a little, one piece at a
time.

We’re soon on our way again and tobacco smoke puts a
new lease of life in my lungs.  I blow smoke rings that disappear in the wind
and go along at almost a skip.  I love days like this.  A day together to catch
up, relax and chill.  We swoosh the pub door open, me going in first and warm
cider-scented air rushes over me.  As we go in a few people look.   We say, ‘What
up’ and ‘Hey’ to the people we know.  Rob crashes onto the nearest sofa.  His
phone rings and he answers while dropping the paper on the table.  I go to the
bar and buy a bottled beer for me and a pint for Rob.  I take the drinks to the
table.  Rob’s still on the phone.  I take a long drink and spark up another
cigarette.

When Rob finishes his conversation and puts his phone
down on the table I ask. “So who goes first?”  He points at me.  So I go ahead,
telling my story from the beginning.  Meeting them.  Going to the cinema.  Getting
in the club.  Going to the bar.  The argument.  The abandonment.  The bouncer.  The
car ride.  My near death experience.  Rob looks fairly uninterested the whole
time with his eyebrows only ever so slightly raised.  I catch him sneaking
looks at the football build up on the high up television opposite him.  I get
his full attention when I go over the part of the row again, the alley, the
burger splat, the brick wall.  I repeat it again, louder this time, I see his
jaw drop a little but his mouth doesn’t open.  With eyes a little rounder, he
gets up.  “I better get more beer.”  He leaves me, taking the empties with him
and I spark up yet another cigarette, the rest of my story on ice, still to
tell.  Holding on to it hurts a little, like longed for pee.   Drinks in, I tell
him about the call from Etienne and then as quickly as I can tell it, the whole
of it, about scumbag Lee.  At first he doesn’t react.  Then he almost laughs.  “You
popped a bottle at a window and kicked him!?”

“Yeah?”  He’s smiling and I feel hurt.  “I got away.”

“You should have cracked him over the head with it,
knocked him out, smashed his face in,” he says in one breath.

“Really..?  Yeah but... but, I had no time to mess up.
 I had to do something.  I did alright.  I do feel bad though, smashing that
window.”

“You were stupid to get in his car.”

I tell him, “I know...” but still, I get a lecture
about being careful, trusting no-one, and being extra careful with cabs and
guys and getting in cars.  “I’ve learnt my lesson,” I say.  “I don’t need telling
again.”  I go back to being dumped. 

Rob says, “You’ll get over it.”

I ask, “How?”

He says, “Go out with someone else!”

I say, “Who?”

He says, “Who you got?”

“Jon!” I say, jokingly serious.

He looks at me.  “No!” He says, “Anyway, he’s got a girlfriend,
and a kid.”

I laugh a little, shocked but hiding it.  
Bastard.
 “I was only joking.  I’d have to be nuts to go out with one of your mates.”  I’m
still reeling at the revelation.

“Crazy or stupid.”  He says, irritated.

“What about I get back with Benny?”

“Why would you want to do that?”  He looks cross.  “You
can’t go out with someone that dumped you.”

“Why not?  You know how we’ve been on and off.  It’s
the easy option.”

Rob shakes his head.  “It’s not an option!  Where’s
your self-respect?  He dumped you!” he says, emphasising each word, his hand
planted firmly on the table.

Then it hits me. “I know!”

“What?”

“That guy I met on Friday.  Etienne.”

“Etienne?” he says, like I’m speaking Alien.

“Yeah, Etienne.  He’s French.  But he seems nice...
Really nice.”

“He’s French?”  Rob repeating everything I say starts
to annoy me.

“Yes.  I think I’m going to give him a go.”

He whispers, “Don’t call him.”  I look at him puzzled.
 “Let him call you.”

“He text already, last night.”  I say, triumphant. “But,
I tried calling him back but he didn’t answer.”

“There you go, if you called him he’ll see your missed
call.  Now wait for him to call you back.  Don’t even think about calling him
again.  He’ll call you if he’s that keen.”  I smile.  Rob’s apparent interest
and advice warms me.  I think he’s right.  I should wait.  If he wants me,
he’ll come after me.  The same strategy I had with Benny, nearly always worked. 
“No doubt he will ring you.”  Rob adds just as the Sunday football kicks off and
we start to watch the game.  Rob gets very much into it straight away and
switches off from me almost entirely, like he’s been unplugged.

It would fall on deaf ears now if I spoke more, so
it’s probably not the right time to ask where Ruby is or what happened with
Marcia.  But my patience escapes me.  When the ball gets kicked out of play I
ask quickly, “Where’s Ruby?”

He answers not taking his eyes off the screen, “I’m
going round Mrs D’s later.  Last night something came up.”