The Rain's Comfort

The rain was aggressive, with tears of assault starting to soak my entire body. I wrapped my arms around my chest, squeezing as tightly as possible to produce any form of warmth. Heck, any comfort would have sufficed. At this point, I would have hugged a stranger if it meant I wouldn't feel so cold. A brutal wave of murky water slapped my spine, forcibly knocking me forward. 

This area of the neighborhood didn’t have many storm drains, so the force of the water felt more like a tidal wave than a slight mist. My palms and knees bore the cost of saving my head from splitting open. I jerked my head back, raising my hand to strike up a well-known gesture at the silver car that caused it.

    I threw my arms up tiredly above my head in protest. "At least I'm getting a free shower!" I flipped my body so I sat directly on the soaked floor now. I laughed under my breath. “Perfect, now I’m talking to myself.” Sane people don’t yell at the atmosphere when they are by themselves standing outside in the rain. Yet, nothing about this situation was remotely “sane.” 

I stood up and brushed off the yard’s fake grass chippings that attached themselves to me. Soon jolting at an unknown pain, I felt it when the rain kissed an area of my right knee. I glanced down at my favorite blue jeans and saw the rough rip of denim on my knee. A stylish spot of rose had started to bleed through the fabric. The pavement must have scraped my skin when I fell, but I was too busy talking to the air to notice the pain.

Removing my vision, I took the world in with an inhale through my nose; accepting every scent she offered me. The earthy smell of mud painted by water had strung my senses. Slowly, I tilted my head towards the sky and released a heavy sigh that shook my core.

I started grabbing my clothes from the floor and stuffing them inside my backpack. T-shirts, tanks, and leggings were rolled, so I could shove them into the crevices of the mess I was creating. I had no clue what to do with the sneakers and heels dispersed like a colorful cluster of polka dots. 

The clothes alone were already starting to make my JanSport resemble the shape of a bowling ball. That's probably where my self-awareness kicked in, or the fact that I wasn’t going to leave with everything I had laid out on the floor.

I saw no point in saving any of my school supplies either; notebook pages were coated like watercolor from the lines merging with the water that soaked them. Pens and pencils are being left to drown in the puddles near the front doorstep.

My legs ached like a rapid heartbeat; failing to outrun the rain’s possession of anything I could pry into my bag. Speed felt like the only thing I could control at the moment. Before I let out a curse, my nail collided with the pavement on my way to grab my skirt. I brought my trembling hand to my line of sight and chuckled at the sight. My acrylic pink nail had forcibly pried itself off, causing a gush of blood to drip down my palm. 

Frustration consumed me, as the feelings I’d been suppressing started to brim to the surface. I bit my tongue hard, hoping the pain would snap my body out reminding me how pathetic I felt. The rain-wrapped itself around my swollen finger, making it sting more than it should have. 

‘Don’t cry, Naomi. Crying always makes it worse.’

Yet, even I didn’t know what was “worse” right now. It was as if the pain in my hand and knee collaborated to ensure I felt their misery. I could feel the crimson liquid dripping down both areas of my body, yet they both felt numb to the pain I felt in my chest. The brutal reality hit like a truck.

My father had thrown me out of my home without any explanation. 

In the same home, my sister and I burned the cookies we had baked for Santa. The same home where I first learned how to play Uno from watching my dad lose continuously to my mother. The same home I cried in, as I watched him throw my belongings into the front yard through my bedroom window.

I was standing in front of the yard with the emptiness of being abandoned. A part of me prayed he would walk through the front door and apologize for how he reacted. Hug me tightly and warm up the feel of the bitterly cold rain against my skin.

The longer I stared at the door, the longer it stared back at me. It was frozen in time, yet in a way, I was too.

I closed my eyes and allowed flashes of memories to consume me. 

His scrunched eyebrows danced with the expression of hatred and disappointment. His glass-shattering voice carried through our home as he screamed at me with a mixture of French and English. ‘You’re no daughter of mine!’ ‘If you want to embarrass me like your brother, do it out of my house!’ 

The fresh picture of my mother avoiding my glances and pleas for help was bruised deeper than any wound I had. I remember begging for an explanation for what I did to make him so furious. I have seen my father angry before, but this was different. This was worse than when Travis left. 

The thought of my fate being worse than his, made my bones shake.

The cries of my sister were enough to make me cry harder. She looked towards me at certain moments and tried encouraging Dad to calm down. We both knew his heart. Once he made a decision, it was final. Negotiation wasn’t an option. 

I had settled on the living room couch unable to breathe under the pressure of the situation. Flashes of my life played on a loop as I searched for something I may have done to enrage him. My hands covered my face and started to vibrate. I was shaking. I tried to control my body, but my breaths were a mixture of useless gasps of air. 

The sound of thunder snapped me out of my trans. My mind finally processed the taste of the salty tears that made their way to my lips. All of a sudden, every emotion I had hidden inside me burst out like flames. My tears and the rain sang a duet specifically for me.

Grabbing my backpack, I started walking towards the park near the end of my neighborhood. Leaving behind the rest of the items I couldn’t bring with me. The heaviness of my future made me feel nauseous.

I had nowhere to go. 

No one to take me in. 

I’d spent my entire high school career cutting out people so I could focus on my studies. My father always told me never to distract myself with people who were not worth my time. Now, when I needed him most. He was gone.

The park bench felt like ice against my skin. My light color jeans had already turned a deep blue from the weight of the water.

I glanced at the swings near the crooked playset. Watching the wind swing on both of them. 

I clenched my fist trying to erase the memories attached. Travis used to take Emma and me there all the time. He’d push both of us at the same time, trying to keep up with how high we’d go. I remember Emma would always try to go higher than me in an attempt to impress him. As the youngest, she always wanted the most attention.

I bit my lip. Who would watch over her now? With both Travis and I gone there was no one to protect her. Dad already had high hopes for me after Travis’ “screw up” but now there was no one there to bear the expectations. 

I lay down on the bench and used Travis’ old jacket as a pillow for my head. Even now, the lime green jacket smelled like the perfume he stole from his school counselor that one time. He was always getting himself into trouble, but it never changed the way he’d treated us. 

A flash of his crooked smile appeared in my mind. When he smiled it would take up his whole face. Every feature of his would play in the emotion. Making him look more like the sun. A light that would shine on our lives whenever we needed it. 

Even though he’d been gone for 5 years now, some things sparked bittersweet memories that made me want to cry & laugh at the same time. 

The rain had started to clear up slightly, transforming into smaller droplets. The jacket had gotten warm from being under my head, so I moved it from under my head and cuddled it under my arms. Travis had given me the jacket the day Dad had kicked him out that day. Instead of being dragged out like I had, Travis left willingly. 

I remember he had packed his things in the house while my dad had been engaged in a heated conversation with my mother. Back then, my mother put up more of a fight for him. I don’t blame her, he was her only son. Yet, the thought of bitterness built in my throat when I remembered how she refused to look my way.

I was only twelve back then. I hugged Travis’ leg begging him to stay while he started to drag my body near the door. He was stronger and taller than I was, so he didn’t have to put up much of a fight. He had stopped when he was a few inches from the door and dragged his hand across his face with a sigh. 

He looked down at me scrunching his eyebrows with a mixture of pity and annoyance. When he looked like that he resembled my father the most. He then bent down to my level and started wiping the tears on my face with his thumb. “C'mon Naomi, you need to let go of me now.”

I dragged both my arms around his neck in protest and cried so hard I could barely register Dad’s screams anymore. I know that Emma had been busy asking Mom where Travis was going while being told off repeatedly.

Travis hugged me with that signature warmth he always emitted. For a moment, I almost forgot the reason I was crying. He always had a way of making people feel that way. 

The spell was broken when he pried my arms off his neck and looked me in the eyes. His eyes had the same brown hue as my mother’s. “I’m gonna need you to be strong for me N. I’ll be back for you and Em soon, so you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

He placed his hand in front of my face and stuck out his pinky. “Pinky promise?” The way he looked at me always had a way of erasing any doubt I had in him. I connected my pinky with his and nodded my head. He hugged me one last time and dragged the green jacket around my shoulders. Telling me to keep it safe for him when he comes back.

Except he never did. That was the last time I ever saw my older brother.

This time a noise dragged me back to reality. An envelope had stuck out the fabric of the jacket. A tiny hole near the back of the seaming revealed the corner of the letter. I never wore his jacket because I wanted to preserve its authenticity, but how could I have never found this? I pulled the envelope out of the small exposure and watched it fold in half trying to pry itself out.

I sat up and read the cover - “To N”

‘To me?’ My brother was a lot of things, but a writer was never on the list of possibilities. He once described books as being, “escape routes for old people” 

I felt goosebumps start to build on my arms. I couldn’t tell if they were a result of the cold or anticipation for what the letter might contain. I decided it was the second option. Emma and I were forbidden from making contact with our brother after he left, and it’s not like he had reached out himself either. His whereabouts were a mystery that I accepted I’d never solve.

What if this letter contains where he is? Maybe there was a good reason for him not coming back. He could have been sidetracked by his situation.

I held my breath and tore open the envelope hastily. Pulling out the piece of paper and unfolding it slowly.

Dear N,

Leaving was never my intention, but I can’t live like this anymore. 

I’m going to be honest with you, N, I messed up badly this time.

You always had a knack for getting me out of sticky situations, but I doubt even you can solve this one. 

Dad found out about the bags I had under my bed. 

He was pissed that I was selling again.

I never told you or Em because I never wanted you two to be involved. 

I always felt like I had to sacrifice my freedom for both of you. 

I love you. You know that right?

But you’re supposed to be the selfless one, not me.

I always hoped you’d lose that look of admiration you had every time you looked at me. 

At first, I thought you’d grow out of it. Yet, over time it only grew stronger.

I think that's the reason I grew to hate you the most N.

I’m going to be brutally honest. 

Dad’s going to kick me out once he figures out the hidden stash I have inside the kitchen cabinet.

So, I might as well prepare you for what you'll face in the future.

Don’t you dare judge me, N.

You would have done the same thing if you were in my position. 

I was never the “golden child” Dad wanted me to be. 

Whenever he compared me to you, I felt more inclined to make you feel the same way I did.

Abandoned. Alone. Cold

Being around that house always made me feel that way.

I hope, someway or somehow, you end up feeling just as cold one day.

I told you not to have much hope in me, N.

I’m a lost cause, and it’s about time you accepted that. 

That’s why I hid that last stash of drugs in a special place.

Your room.

I don't know if Dad will ever find it and in all honesty, I hope he does.

A small part of me hopes he gets as angry at you as he did me.

A small part of me hopes you feel humbled by it.

I’m not a good person N. 

I told you I wasn’t.

Yet, you were too naive to believe me, sis.

I’m not sorry, Em.

But if I was sorry about anything.

I'm sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face while you read this.

Love,

Your brother