Just Us Three

I don’t believe in signs from the universe. I don’t think any of us do. But I think we can all agree, this wasn’t supposed to work. It seemed like destiny until it didn’t. Until it seemed like we were being torn apart. I guess that’s what makes this my exception. Because despite everything, we’re still together. It still feels like it's just us three, up against the world. We can only hope that it will stay this way forever. The world seems to have other plans. But who knows how things will turn out. I guess you could call this a love story. But not the kind you’re used to. Not a fairy-tale romance, not a prince and a princess, not a perfect beginning, middle, and end, and not a happily ever after. At least, not yet.

It was a dark and stormy night. I feel like so many good books start that way. “A Wrinkle in Time” for example. But it wasn’t actually. It was just a very rainy afternoon. The perfect one at that. It was warm, but pouring and there hadn’t been any thunder (yet). So me and Anabelle (Anabelle and I, whatever) went out to the trampoline. Something about being out in the rain has always been appealing to us. Maybe it's the magic of being wet but not feeling the rain hit your skin. The magic of being soaked in your clothes, and not caring. The magic of that rain smell, that feels so clean and fresh. The magic of the cold, wet trampoline that seems to bounce you so much higher in the rain, and makes you laugh, really laugh, as you fall on your knees in the small puddles and giggle about how clumsy the rain makes you. That magic has always been there for us. 

We were probably six or seven years old. It was one of those perfect rainstorms. Not too cold, no thunder, and all the time in the world. The three of us (Anabelle, Lily, and I) wanted to go play in the rain. We were at Lily's house, so without clothes to change into after we got soaked, we all just went in tank-tops and our underwear. We were young enough that we didn’t have a care in the world. I know we all wish that we could go back there. We were innocent, carefree, and happy. For me, this memory is crystal clear. We ran around, shouting and laughing at everything and nothing all at once. We would tip our heads back, trying to drink the warm July rain. We tried to catch it in our hands and throw it at one another, unsuccessfully. The neighbor came out, a boy a year or two older than us. He chased us around, and we played tag, slipping in the warm mud, dirtying the backs of our legs. Eventually, thunder came, and we ran under the shelter of the porch, toweling off our soaked, muddy skin before traipsing inside. 

The next time I remember the three of us playing in the rain was years later. I don’t really know how old we were, but I would guess around ten. We were at my house, and as soon as we saw the pouring rain, we raced upstairs to change. It was standard practice. Wear oversized T-shirts that belonged to one of our dads out in the rain, and change back into our own clothes after. We ran into the kitchen and grabbed a set of metal bowls, each of different sizes. My mom called out to us,

“Come back in if you hear thunder!”

 And then out the front door, we went. 

We stood on the porch for a moment, watching the rain. Then, in not quite perfect synchronization, we tiptoed down the wet steps, the light blue paint peeling slightly under our feet. The front yard was badly laid out. It had a concrete walk-up and steps leading down to the road. The small stone retaining wall was falling apart, and the overgrown rose bushes spilled too far onto the grass. But as our feet hit that walk up, that’s when the magic really started. Anabelle ran across the muddy grass to the corner of the house. There a gutter was emptying water, about as quickly as a sink might. She placed one of the larger metal bowls underneath, catching the water. Lily started collecting plants. White flowers off of one of the bushes, lemon drops from behind the pine tree, bits of grass, and so on. I just stood on the concrete, the rocks in it digging into my feet, while I let the rain fall into my open eyes because I thought it looked magical that way. 

We still played pretend games then. Mostly Harry Potter-based, where we were all in love with Draco Malfoy in some way or another. In this particular scenario, I think we lived in the Forbidden Forest. So as we created this alternate reality, it was blissful. 

The bowl from underneath the gutter was full, and Anabelle removed it. We put all the gathered plants in it and mixed it with a spoon. This was our ‘soup’. As little kids do with mud pies, grass stir-fries, and rainwater soup, we pretended to eat it, and then poured it out. We all stood under a big tree, the thick leaves sheltering us, ever so temporarily, from the rain. Lily, being the tallest and the only one who could reach, grabbed one of the branches from above our heads, shaking it vigorously. This showered us with fat droplets, soaking us to the bone, our cotton T-shirts sticking to our skin. 

Lightning cut through the dark clouds, quickly followed by a loud crack of thunder. Sighing, we scamper back inside, our rain play cut short. Inside, we quickly made our way back upstairs, the air conditioning freezing our wet skin. Changing into leggings and t-shirts that fit, we all snuggled into my comforter to watch a movie.