Freedom in the Rain

The sky bottomed out with the kind of rain that soaked you to the bone in a matter of seconds. Aurora stood on her front porch, her denim skirt and cotton shirt clinging to her body, her long brown hair plastered to her shoulders and face. The world around her seemed a blur, as if the rain had muted the sounds and scenery. The air was heavy with moisture, and every drop that hit the ground seemed to echo in the silence of the moment. The thick fog of the rain made it hard to distinguish where the earth ended and the sky began, a seamless blend of grey. Frozen in place, stolen time passed her by as she pondered whether she was waiting for something or if she'd simply forgotten how to move, so entranced with the beauty of the winter decay. The rhythm of the rain soothed her aching soul as it pinged off the tin roof of her home, each droplet like a soft percussion against the stillness.

The sound of the rain, the gentle hum that filled the air, seemed to clear her mind, washing away the tension that had built up over the years. Her thoughts drifted like the raindrops, scattering across the memories of her life. She remembered the quiet moments before everything had changed, before she knew what it was like to hold a tiny person in her arms and to feel the full weight of responsibility settle onto her shoulders.

Freedom. She was finally free, a loving partner on the way home, her daughter sleeping peacefully on her bed in the house. The days when she used to tremble in fear, unable to breathe without the suffocating weight of her old life bearing down on her, felt like a distant memory. She inhaled a deep breath of the damp earthy scent that permeated her senses, wondering when the last time she'd stood in the rain like this without being yelled at. The thought was jarring. When had she stopped being the person who sought solace in the rain? She remembered that cold, relentless day in March when she’d brought her daughter, Siersha, into the world. Snow had blanketed the ground, and the entire experience had been a whirlwind of agony, yet overwhelming joy. She could still feel the sharp sting of labor in her body, the way it had gripped her with such intensity that she had wondered if she’d ever be the same again.

The agony of childbirth had been matched only by the bliss of holding her little one for the first time. After twenty-four agonizing hours of labor, several panic attacks, and 42 minutes of pushing, Siersha had arrived, wailing and perfect. Her fiance, who had been anything but supportive during the pregnancy, sat in a chair across the room, his eyes surprisingly warm, watching her as she cradled their newborn. For the first time in their eighteen months together, she wasn't worried about walking on eggshells, wasn't worried about when his next cruel word would come. For those first moments, she had been entirely consumed by her baby, by the life she had brought into the world. Maybe the warmth in his eyes meant there was hope after-all, but that was a hope she couldn't dwell on at that moment.

Siersha had cried out for the first time after she entered the world, and despite the previous twenty-four hours, it had hit her like a freight train that she had actually had a baby. "My baby, my baby, give me my baby." Her heart had swelled with a fierce love she hadn’t known she was capable of, and the world had seemed to come into sharp focus. She had found a new purpose, a reason to keep going in those tiny splayed-out arms and wailing cries. "My baby, my baby, I did it," she murmured as they laid the seven-pound nine-point-six-ounce girl in her arms while her fiancé laughed, somehow finding humor in her exclamations. It had been the most defining moment of her life, yet somehow, it felt overshadowed by the fear of what was to come.

"Congratulations, mama." The words were soft, almost foreign in the way they had been said. She nodded her thanks at the nurse as she soaked in the new life, her rainbow baby, in her arms. The term "rainbow baby" had been a gentle comfort to her. Siersha had come after a miscarriage that had broken her in ways she hadn’t thought possible, had brought out the true colors of the man she'd planned to marry all too soon. Six hundred miles from home and no license, she'd had no way back. This little girl was a symbol of hope, a gift after the storm. But with that joy came an undercurrent of fear—fear that she wasn’t strong enough, that she would somehow fail her child, that she might even turn out like her own mother. She swallowed down her anxiety, refusing to let it rise to the surface. She had to keep it together for Siersha, for herself.

The next few days and weeks had all but flown by. The baby’s cries, the endless feedings, the nights filled with exhaustion, and still, the biting coldness of her relationship. Her fiancé had become harsh, lashing out at her and their newborn daughter. Three weeks after Siersha’s birth, they fought—he had beaten her American bulldog, and that was the moment she had realized she couldn’t stay in the marriage. She had left months before mentally, but the thought of leaving physically had seemed impossible. She had tried to make it work for the baby, tried to convince herself that things could get better, that her fiancé could change. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t keep living like this.

She shook her head as another memory surfaced, one that had been buried for too long. "Who the fuck you bringing home, getting all dressed up like that?"

"Myself." Her words were sharp, filled with a quiet defiance that had been building for weeks, if not months. "For the first time in six weeks, I feel good. I feel, somewhat, back to myself." The words were like a balm for her wounded soul, even though they had barely scratched the surface of her pain. He scoffed, and she added, "The only thing I'd ever bring back would've been animals." She had gotten their six-week-old ready to go out, determined to have a good day, a day where she could feel something other than dread, exhaustion, and depression. Her fiancé put on a good front for the world, so no one knew what was really happening at home, but those who did maintained "at least he never hit you". They stopped in at the Arab corner store, ordered their usual while the owner's wife cooed over the baby. That was the day her world collapsed. She caught him cheating - again - and it shattered whatever hope she had left. It had been the final straw. Her father had helped her pack while her fiancé was at work, and that was the day she had left.

Now, she was coming up on two years free from him, and she wasn’t ready for his eventual release from prison. The thought of him back in her life sent a ripple of fear through her, but it was also a relief. It was a reminder that she had escaped, that she had survived, that she had built something for herself and Siersha and found someone who treated them both like queens.

She sighed, her breath heavy with the weight of memories. The rumble of a vehicle pulled her out of her rain-soaked reverie. She looked up as her partner pulled into the driveway, a small smile curving her lips. It was a smile born from the simple joy of knowing she wasn’t in this alone anymore, that she had someone who would always fight along side her and had proven so during their 16 months thus far. She turned back into the house, eager to rouse her pride and joy from her nap. They were safe now, together, and that was all that mattered.