I Think I Like The Rain

I… I think I like the rain. It reminds me that even the grandest oceans can become small and fall from great heights. I sometimes sit and watch it run on the ground, trying to find its way back to wherever it was from, knowing it'll likely only be forced again into an unnatural, unseemly position in the sky and once more be dropped back off with no hope of itself in sight. 

On days like this, where the rain torrents, the sun is set, and I can hardly see even a foot in front of myself, where my eyes are filled with those displaced fragments of deep oceans and wide rivers, I think, and I bring forth my wrongs, and I allow myself to forget them for just a moment. Today, however, I stand in the rain, allowing it to wash over me, but I can't seem to forget how I was wronged, nor can I seem to remember what I myself did wrong.

I take a step forward, eying my car, but instead of heading to it, I turn down the street and begin to walk to nowhere as I try to think about nothing. Despite my attempts to move forward, I could feel something pulling me back: a woman? My woman, or, at least, that's what she was up until a few minutes ago.

"Darius, please come back inside! I can explain, I swear!!" She says, frantically addressing me, her words hardly making it over the sound of the rain in the backdrop.

"Explain..? Explain what?" I say calmly, unmoving as she continues to try and pull me in the direction of our home.

"Please, you know what. I-I just need a chance to explain, I swear, but you can't just shut down on me like this! You always close yourself off from me instead of just saying how you feel, and we end up having the same fights until we end up in a place where nothing gets resolved and everything makes space to come back later!" She finishes speaking with a heave, a pleading look in her eye, and panic on her lips.

"That's a great insight," I say with a level tone, "I'd say that was quite the mature statement if I hadn't just walked in on you fucking our neighbor's bum son on my couch" Again, I turn to walk away, only for her to run up and cut me off.

"Darius, just.. Just stop for one fucking moment, please! I know how everything looks, but you can't just leave; I-I love you, I need you, and right now, you have to come back inside, for me, please… I can't lose you." 

I heard what she said, and for a moment I thought before turning and walking back in the direction of my house. Nicole's eyes lit up as she raced to get out of the rain, beating me to my perceived destination of the front door, but as I walked forward, I pulled my keys from my pants pocket and instead unlocked my car door. I would've liked to walk in the rain for a while longer, but quite frankly, I doubt I'd get anything out of it, and I certainly wasn't gonna go in and sit through her "explanation," likely just consisting of her whining and shifting blame for an entire night.

  Anyhow, as I got in the car, she again panicked and ran out from the front door area; she tried to get to me before I drove off, but the doors were locked, so she banged on the windows, letting her anger overtake her "regret" as she screamed out. I started the car and watched as she stood staring as I drove off, likely feeling the shame and remorse hitting all at once. 

Now driving, I was starting to realize I had nowhere to go; my only home stained with infidelity, my marriage turned to filth. 'I could head back to work? I had a few rooms built into the building in case anyone needed to rest while we pulled an all-nighter… but if anyone saw me, there was a chance it could lead to controversy without a good excuse. Though it's not like that kind of thing even matters anymore. All I have left is my business, but the only reason I built it was for her and... and for him. 

….

…

I shake my head, resetting my thoughts. I'm already in a dark place; I don't see the point in going any deeper into that. I decide a hotel's probably the best bet at this point and head off to a Hilton nearby. In silence, I get a room, change into the gym clothes I keep in the trunk of my car, lay in bed, and stare at my ceiling, trying to figure out where I deviated.

I love my wife, but somehow, that whole issue doesn't really hurt me the way it probably should. I actually feel kind of… relieved. The only reason I've been working as hard as I work, the only reason I've been suffering the way I've been suffering, is because I wanted to make sure she was alright, but… if this is how I get to free myself from that then I'll have to thank my neighbor for raising that failure of hers the way she did.

I'm tired. Deeply so. I want to rest, but my mind races, filling with thoughts of critique over my life and the small choices I made each day that led to here and now. I remember when I first met Nicole, and I remember how, even after dating for two years, whenever anyone asked me why I loved her, I could only answer, 'Because she's the most beautiful woman in the world.' At the time, I was greatly satisfied with my answer as though such a response was some sort of definite and romantic proof of my love. I remember how my only friend at the time was the first person to smack me over the head and tell me that if I really loved her, then after two years, I should have more words to say than 'she's beautiful' and I finally got around to dropping my guard, actually thinking about or relationship and what it meant to me, then letting the words I held prisoner in the back of my mind for all this time fly freely as I described to her the way she made me feel and why, before finally proposing. It was really all thanks to him, now that I really stop to think about it.

…

My only friend, Michael… 

I remember my only friend, Michael. Everything I've done in the past five years has been for the sake of my wife, for the sake of my marriage. But the only reason I've been able to do anything at all up until this point was thanks solely to him. I go back in my mind, my eyes closed, with the only sound around me coming from the built-in fan unit by the side of my bed. And again, I think, and again, I remember.

When Michael and I were in our early twenties, we were, as the youth would say, maidenless. On top of that, we were poor, on the verge of being college dropouts, and completely certain that our future prospects existed only as figments in our own imaginations. One day, the two of us sat on the floor of our apartment, thinking. Finals were coming up, and we both had no doubts that there was no coming back for us at that point, considering how royally we screwed up our chances in the previous months. We were on the same page, and we both understood our college lives were over. The difference between he and I, however, the distinct difference that made him who he was, and of course me who I am, was that as I thought of my failure, and how to somehow break it to my parents that I wasted everyone's time, most of their money, and landed into a mountain of useless yet easily avoidable debts; he was thinking about how he could turn everything around.

That day… 

It was a hard day. I didn't think I could ever come out of the depths I had drowned myself in, that I would live forever at the bottom of a deep and seemingly endless chasm, fighting for the rest of my pathetically short life only to be met with failure, as my last breath had abandoned me to die alone without even a thought to accompany me to my end. And he, well, he was planning on taking out a loan and starting a business with us being twin CEOs or something like that and leading us to the high life that existed at the end of a sunset on a rainbow road. He was always such an optimist. A dumbass for sure, but he was a bright light for me in a dark moment, and even though I felt like his plan made absolutely zero sense, I decided I'd take the risk with him. I asked him what sort of business we'd be doing together. Honestly, he seemed so confident and sure of himself before he spoke I was certain he had just come up with some revolutionary Steve Jobs-esque plan, so I sat up and listened intently as he said, "We'll start a business doing something; we'll purchase property somewhere, all while marketing to someone, who we'd then sell something!" With a smile on his face, he jumped up and pointed at me, who sat on the ground, shocked at the absolute buffoonery that just left his mouth. I fixed my lips to call him out on it, but honestly, by that point, I actually still had a certain confidence in him and lacked a plan of my own to counteract his, so I just pointed back, adopting a similar smile on my own face in a tacit agreement. Skipping the finer, much more tedious details, we, in short, had no plan and were living off of hopes and dreams for a good few years yet somehow, eventually, we came out on top, building a nice little company for ourselves while amassing a poor man's fortune. I had all the money I could ever need, and while I was still in deep debt from overshooting for my degree, I was stable. I was happy. It… It took me too long to realize that he was not.

Michael was always smiling. He was always joking and laughing. He loved everything I hated, and he loved everything I loved. But sometimes... sometimes, he would stand out in the rain. We never really talked about it. I asked him once, and he said he just loved the rain like he loved everything else, but every time it would fall, he would stand out in it and get soaked from head to toe; he'd stare up at an angle and just allow the water to wash off of him. I remember the very last day I saw him; it was raining then, too. I stared at him for about 10 minutes straight, watching as rainwater washed over him in the manner he so indulged, as his body hung from the tree in the park near my house. Just like today, I didn't really have any words for how I was feeling then. The police say I must've been in a state of shock from seeing my friend in such a position, but I know the truth. Even as I watched him, my mind was clear. My movements were unfettered, and my heart was unsurprised.

 I was a terrible person. A part of me always knew where his head was, a subconscious part of me that never spoke up because it was too afraid our dynamic may shift in a weird way and everything would be ruined if I said anything about something that clearly wasn't my business. I hadn't spoken out in respect of him, in fear of him, and now he's gone. I think I'm ready to see him again. Ready to say sorry for not being there when he needed me. Ready to go back out in the rain and finally be able to rest… however, I should probably take a nap first though. He did always say I was a little over dramatic when the weather got bad.