A Little Rain (24 page)

“What does he sound like?”

“Pretty average, just normal sounding really.”

“I don’t mean that.”

“What do you mean?”

“How does he speak?  What’s his voice like?  Does he
sound nice or rough?  Quiet?  Sorry??”

“Yes.”  He says.  “He’s sorry.  He said it many times.”

Still confused I say, “How many times have you spoken
to him?”

Rob’s face crinkles up, like a bulldog chewing a lemon.
 “Only a few, in the last couple of weeks, not even that.  Just over a week,
maybe ten days.”

I’m actually hurting down deep but so forcefully captivated
that the pain hardly registers.  Slowly realising I’m getting this wound up
about his voice alone.  Hearing him.  Seeing him.  Touching him.  It’s just so hard
because all the time all the proud and unforgiving parts of me are screaming at
me not to feel this way, shouting in me,
hate him
and
just don’t you
dare go and see him
.  I feel stuck and torn, like a carrier bag caught on a
barbed wire fence, not wanting to be there but trapped.  But it’s not an option
anymore.  It’s a choice.

Rob drops my hands and my arms fall to my sides.  But
then he hugs me once more and I feel stronger and better, but still numb and
horrible and sick.  The voices of doubt deep within are not being listened to.  I
won’t change my mind, but still they play on.  I will go on with my Rock.  He
is my support, my guide, my stability and strength.  I just have to be there
and be me.  Nothing else is important.  This is what I want to do.  This is
what I must do.

We hug again for what seems like forever.  After a
while, mum gives a gentle cough, only reminding us then that she’s still there
too.  I let one arm free from Rob and she’s close enough for me to embrace.  Rob
does likewise and we bring her close.  She smells homely like tea, sweet as
honey, damp like a rain shower and vintage like her clothes.  I smell the
warmth and heart of them both as we stand together in unison.  It makes me feel
so much better.  I hope and pray inside that it makes mum feel better too.  I
know that we all draw unseen strength from this close proximity.  She will come
round.  Everything is going to be ok.  More time passes and I start to lean
away, standing back slightly, still feeling the warmth and steadfast sanctuary of
both my brother and mother at my fingertips.  I feel strong.  I can do this.  The
gentle throb of my foot in the background still does not let me forget all the
everything else that has happened.

Eventually Rob’s gentle hand clasps my shoulder, clumsily
like a little steel toy grabbing machine, and he quietly says, “Shall we go
then?”  I feel scared.   I’m going to see my dad before I see my mum again.  I go
over to her again and hug her tightly once more.  Her delicate beige crochet shawl
gets caught in my fingertips.  I don’t want to let her go.  This is the only
true love I know.  She’s the only present I want in my parcel and I don’t want
anything to change.  I just keep holding on, but I know that I have to let go.

I hold on for as long as I can.  Eventually we move
apart, and face to face, holding each other at arm’s distance, like ballroom
dancers.  She mirrors me with silent tears.  I wipe hers away with a tissue leaving
mine to drop on to the kitchen floor, tiny splashes.  A little rain.  I feel
warm and powerful.  We gently say our final goodbyes, touching each other’s
cheeks, wiping away more tears.  This feels bigger than the moon.  One giant
leap and I am ready to do it.  I’m going to walk on the moon.

As Rob opens the front door, and cold air rushes in, I
cannot find it in me to smile as suddenly the fear rushes through me like a
swarm of bats released into the light.  I am unsteady on my feet but somehow still
holding it together.  The balloon strings are now knotted and holding tight for
now.  We start to head down the smelly stairs slowly again, sticks clunking,
metallic on the concrete.  Straight away, I light up another cigarette when we
are down and outside in the open air.  Rob takes one too.  We smoke standing next
to the car, leaning up against cold metal.  I’m thinking that neither of us
really wants to take the first step of this journey, contemplating a false
start, maybe no start at all.  No more words are said.

Eventually cigarettes are out, car doors are closed
and we are moving along the grimy, wet streets of southeast London.  I suck on
a soft strong mint to give my mind something else to think about.   A piano-heavy
pop-rock song plays on the radio which I know will now be with me for the rest
of my life.  I cannot believe we are doing this.  This is insane.  But the
journey has begun and I sense that now there is no turning back, no matter what
Rob says.

“Are you ok?”  I stupidly ask.  He nods.  I put my
hand on his forearm that’s resting on the gearstick.  His hand is holding on tight
even though we’re cruising along.  His leather sleeve feels firm and smooth and
just touching him makes me feel better.  He gives me hope to hold on to.  I trust
that my touch helps him as well.  I am there with him but I still feel lost.  I
don’t even know where we are going, not so long ago, I didn’t even know if our
dad still lived in this country, or even if he lived at all.  I imagined him to
be a million miles away, Australia maybe, as far away as could be possible.  He
certainly feels that far away.

We’ve got a long drive ahead, about two hours, Rob
reckons.  I don’t know whether he means going at his current slow clop or when we
get moving and fly at his usual gallop.  Either way it seems my patience and new
found calm are going to be needed now more than ever.  I will keep quiet, sit
still, hold tight and do nothing, for now.

For several minutes I look on silently at Rob driving.
 I then turn forward to face the windscreen and watch the rain gently bounce
across the glass with the shimmering radiance of the sunlight behind.  Rob looks
dim and yellow.  His face is solemn and serious, a shadowy marble statue of magnificence
and once again I am humbled and deeply thankful for his life.  I think back to
how horrible I felt just hours ago when I thought he was dead.  I am so
grateful that he is here and I am with him.  He catches me staring at him and softly
smiles at me, like maybe he’s happy to be here too.

“Just don’t ever go dying on me.” I say.  He nods,
ever so slightly smiling.  He stays silent, whilst I can’t help but speak.  “Why
did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well it was only yesterday.”

“I know, but why not when we were in the hospital?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t want to upset you more.  You
had enough on your plate.  I didn’t want to be making things worse.  I guess I
just avoided it for long as I could.”

“Then why did you tell me today?”

“Well, like I said earlier, I think it turned out to
be pretty fateful.  When I got home yesterday and you were in the house with
that what’s his name?”

“Etienne.”

“When I walked in on you and Etienne, I walked straight
back out.  I guessed Heather was in, her window was open and I could hear someone
singing.”

“Singing?”

“Yeah, she was singing along to some old soul song she
had playing.  She had a quite good voice actually, so I just stood by the door
and listened to her for a bit.  Eventually, she came near the window and saw me
just standing there and then came out and opened the door.  I didn’t even have
to knock.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, she said hello, welcomed me in and showed me
round the place.  Her flat is pretty, err...  unique to say the least, but it’s
a nice place.  It’s really quite alright.  We sat on the sofa in her front room
and had a chat.  She made me a cup of this green tea stuff, not so sure if I
liked that so much, but it was ok, and then we just talked.”

“What about?”

“Mainly about me moving out and you, and that’s when
she just threw it at me, well at you too, like a lifeline.  I could barely
believe it.  Talk about good timing.  I thought it was too good to be true.  I had
to ask her a couple of times if she was sure.  She said definitely, absolutely.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Well, she knows we are packing up and moving out
tomorrow.  But there’s no pressure for you to move in there straight away.  I
did tell her about today and that there was a lot going on.  She said you can
move in whenever you’re ready, that’s if you want to.  But I did say that we
would both go in and see her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I say, spellbound and scared.  I haven’t
even got through today yet.  Today is Father’s Day.  Tomorrow is Eviction Day
and now it is also going to be The Start of the Rest of My New Life Day.  Really
though I already knew about the kicking out, having read the eviction thing,
but I didn’t believe it.  In fact, I don’t think this current chain of events
could be any less comprehendible for me.  If an alien from outer space landed
his spaceship on the car bonnet right now and got out and asked for directions,
I don’t think I would even be shocked at all.

“Yes.  Tomorrow.  But don’t worry, it’ll be fine.  I’ll
be there with you.  Heather’s lovely.  You’ve got nothing to be afraid of, and
like I said, it’s quite a nice little place.  In fact, I’m sorry I’m not moving
in there myself.”

I look at him sharply, even though I’ve never even seen
this room, I feel like it’s mine already.  He better not even dare to think
about it.  “So you’ve seen this room then?  What’s it like?”

“Yes, I’ve seen it, yes, it’s nice.”  Unexpectedly a spiked
pain sears through my foot like a wave of fresh fire and I sharply inhale and
scrunch up my eyes closed.  It hurts, a lot, and for now I cannot speak again. 
“By the way, I’m sorry but you were right, I took your tablets.  I don’t know
why.”

“Yeah, I knew that already.”  I say sharply, breathing
in deep.  This sudden new onset of pain hasn’t let me forget.

“How is your foot?” he asks.

“Well it was ok, ‘til just now but it’s started
hurting again.  I think I’ve had too much to think about to be honest.  It just
got bad again now.”  I am very much aware of the sting beneath the bandages.  In
fact, now I realise it’s been a very long time since I have taken any of my
super-strong mind-altering little biscuits.  “Where are my pills?”  I ask.

He reaches into the back pocket of my car seat and
brings them forward.  I jokingly snatch the plastic bag from him, smiling only
to hide my pain-filled desperation.  They all seem to be there.  I quickly open
up the boxes and pop pills out of the foil packets into my lap.  I greedily
swallow them with a bottle of something sweet that Rob hands to me from the
pocket of his door.  I cannot bear the thought of this pain getting any worse
now.  Pain is useless and needless and chemically avoidable.  Painkillers are
the answer.  Soon enough there will be a distraction so much more than this
tingling bit of pain.  I try not to even think ahead but feel too feeble to
take on anything else at all right now.  Tablets are taken.

“Are we there yet?”  I say eventually after what seems
like a fairly long silence.  It turns out we’ve not been driving for long.
We’ve still got quite a way to go.  I feel tired like I want to go back to
bed.  As it’s not an option, there’s not a lot else I can do or say right now. 
I yawn and stretch out in my seat.  I roll it back so I am almost horizontal.  I
try to make myself comfortable.  My cheek turns and touches the cool leather.  “Mind
if I sleep?”  I say.  The silent shrug of response I take to mean as ok.  I
stretch out.  I kick off my loose-tied trainers.  I lean forward to turn up the
heater and it starts to blow out warm air that smells of heated dust.  I feel exhausted,
exhilarated too, but sleep is what I need right now, so sleep is what I do.  I
shut my eyes and start to feel myself drift slowly away, listening to the quiet
softness of the hum.

I don’t know how long I’m out for, half an hour, maybe
more.  The painkillers definitely helped, without them I’m sure I wouldn’t have
slept at all, with so much to think about.  But the drugs led me to a heady place
of blissful ignorance.  But sleeping during the day makes time disjointed.  Now
the day has turned shadowy and cloudy too.  Everything is dark and gloomy
grey.  Rainstorms like the one we are in at the moment, I imagine to be everywhere,
darkening the whole entire sky, like judgement day is upon us.  The sound of
thunder rumbles gently above me, but not loud enough I think to have woken me
up.  We are stopped in a petrol station and Rob’s not in the car.  There’s no
music playing now and it’s quiet, aside from the distant dissolving echoes of
the thunderclap.  I suddenly don’t feel well at all.  I feel myself turn green.
 It’s almost instant as vomit projects out of me like a frog’s tongue to catch
a fly.  I only just open the car door in time to lean out.  I’m sick straight
down all over the petrol station forecourt, by the step of the petrol pumps.  I
do not know who is nearby to see this disturbing spectacle but frankly I feel
too wretched to care.  There was nothing else I could have done.  I feel a
little better but still far away from ok.  My foot is hurting still, taking on a
new dimension of pain, feeling juddery, tingly, and hot.  It throbs and burns
and aches like I never noticed before.  Although I know I have not waited long
enough since I last took painkillers, I’m very tempted to overdose.  Not to
kill myself, just to kill the pain.  Now I think about it, the pills I took earlier
are probably all sicked up on the floor.  I think to myself that it will be fine
to take a couple more.  So safety second, I take two more tiny cookies and say
a little prayer wishing that I don’t die or damage myself in any way and please
please please, may I not be sick again.  Just as I breathe out and whisper Amen,
Rob gets back in the car.  “Are you ok?”