Rainfall: A Short Story

Clouds rolled in slowly, a rumbling deep within the fabric of the universal blanket, warming my soul and transforming the world around me. Raindrops, like tears of sorrow from a mother who’s just lost her only child, poured from the heavens without cessation. A flood gathered in the streets flowing towards an obscure point where the ocean had been created from nothingness just minutes before.

Light-skinned men in dark black suits, reverse penguins in disguise, stand off to the side as if guarding the grave from potential thieves. The fresh mud clinging to their shoes, the warm autumn air stirring up the smells from deep within the ground. Samantha Bowers lay in the expensive coffin seven feet down, covered by roses and tightly packed earth. The men in the suits shuffled about, they had hardly known her in life. Now they were all standing around waiting an appropriate amount of time before making their well-planned exit.

I knelt in the grass nearby, oblivious to the damp conditions’ effect on my rented tuxedo. Mary Bowers stood next to me as she recited for the hundredth time the Lord’s Prayer, an annoyance if I ever had the honor of defining the word. The one woman I had ever truly loved in my life was nothing more than memories and shady ones at that, and all her sister could do was quote meaningless phrases to herself. I guess everyone has their own way of dealing with loss, if she would only do it somewhere else.

“Marvin, everyone’s leaving.”

Sure enough, the cemetery had pretty much cleared out. As the clouds moved on to happier pursuits the sun made a surprise appearance during the day of the dead. Ron Tadesky was getting into his sportscar and turned to wave at me. I felt an intense heaviness, as if a large Oriental man were sitting on my lap and refused to get off. I stared at the tombstone for what seemed like an hour. The words blurred together, taking some of the edge off of my grief. “Samantha Bowers, 1978-2002.” It was all so unreal. My umbrella lay on the ground unopened, a reminder of the brevity of life’s clear skies, how fleeting these moments are. So I remained on my knees, as dead as the body rotting away beneath mine.

We were on the train headed to Boise, shades drawn to prevent the escape of light into the gathering darkness outside. She, silent; I, a frightened turtle afraid to emerge from its shell. The child between us, always between us yet making no sound. An argument from the night before twisting my soul into knots of anguish

“We never agree on anything anymore. Just this once…”

“But this is everything Sam. We need to think rationally.”

“That’s all you ever say.”

“That’s what is needed now.”

“I’ve already decided.”

In my hand, a twinkle of light, her diamond earrings, a valentine’s present from the year before. A light drizzle began to fall, punctuating the dismal scene. Mary was gone, victim of consequence, floated away with the laughing crowd. The jewels descend like raindrops onto the ground, soaking into the permeated soil. My mind swims with invisible thoughts, fading snatches of her.

Hand on the seat, watching the clock on the wall turning slowly. The announcement of approaching dawn and still awake. I look at her from the corner of my eye, a tear escapes her cheek, finding solace on the carpeted floor below. The child looks at me with doe eyes, a shock of hair frightfully out of place, but only in my subconscious. I blink and the child is gone… again. I blink once more and she is also gone.

A car drives past, windshield wipers translating the water’s language into unrecognizable patterns. On their way to do their duty, like they always do. Black cars with white faces peering out on the day of the dead. They pass and I shiver with recognition of the dreadful truth of the situation. I let this happen.

“I can’t go on like this, the nightmares, the torture.”

“Well, we can’t go back now, it’s over.”

“I can’t let it be over, ever.”

The train passes the station, leaving again without her. The child remains, but only in the subconscious whirlpool, swimming farther away. I scream but can make no sound, the silence placing punctuation on the memory. Sweaty sheets piled on the floor. Empty bed of regret, burning in the summer sun. A rainbow paints itself across the sky and I stand up slowly with effort.

A child walks alone out of the cemetery without a glance backwards. I do not watch. She rests in her bed of earth as I straighten my jacket and walk in the opposite direction. A single raindrop falls from my chin and disappears.