MIDNIGHT SHOWERS

Another rainy, bleak afternoon in the city. Gray sky, gray clouds, and the constant rain give the air an almost gray-blue hue, like that of a faded memory or passing dream. Gregory had just left the cafe where he spent the last 30 minutes watching water droplets inch down the big, glass window in front of the coffee shop. Simultaneously tracking individual drops, seeing them race one another to the bottom of the glass while watching their trails of water for pictures, often faces: Gregory was the imaginative type, an idealistic child meeting a weathered, stubborn old man.

Now he was walking, strolling really, without aim except to do exactly as he was doing. He was killing time, for he had nothing immediate to do on that dreary Sunday, and he was still caught in that daze he so often found himself in. It was the result of sleeping much too long, leading to the first several hours of his day with one foot still in that curious dream world he so frequently wondered about. 

Being a deep thinker, to begin with, it was no surprise to him that he found himself a mile from the coffee shop he had just set out from. Being caught in a thought, just like a dream, compresses time to make one believe no time has passed at all. He almost never thought twice when he found himself past the original destination he had set. But he had never walked to this tiny culdesac of suburban-urban houses in the city. Although he constantly searched for quiet, the little rainy neighborhood was too silent, devoid of anything for him to appreciate.

He took the fastest way back home, passing the park. Before long he was standing in the park realizing he’d have to confront that looming question that haunts him every time he wakes up too late to do anything productive: what should I do? What can I actually do while I’m half asleep for an entire “day”?

On another day he would’ve sat down on that park bench just to his right, but today the worn, wooden slats were wet, and although he didn’t mind the rain, being soaked through was another thing entirely.

Instead, he took a few minutes to look around at the smooth beeches and occasional oak, the few scattered conifers, and the shrubs that formed a line outside the path, with manicured rain-glossed grass sitting just before it. Just like the rain weighing heavy on the branches and leaves of the small trees, he felt his depression weighing heavy on his shoulders, dragging him down into his sad self. He thought to himself, well Gregory you know you shouldn’t have slept in so late but here you are again, in this disappointed, half alive, half-asleep state you find yourself in way too often. He then began to feel the tightness in his chest, a terrible, suffocating feeling that is the product of his overthinking, the contemplation of his disappointment in himself, his wasted day, one of too many to count, and the very thought of not only his depression but how he often just didn't feel right at all. He constantly felt like he was still walking around in his imagination from the night before, as if he had never truly exited his provocative dream, but was still drifting somewhere in his subconscious. His random dreams seemed more meaningful than his waking life. While he had long passed over the sunny hill of reading positively into small signs and omens in his life, he had arrived at finding even the obvious signs meaningless, only finding meaning in the deep recesses of his consciousness, his dreams.

It was always strange to him how he could be half asleep during the day and still manage to go to bed early enough and then sleep in late again. Sometimes he felt like it had some vague connection to something he did right before bed, something that happened. Lying in bed he often felt anxious and could see his imagination running wild in the form of dark shapes in his black room, looming over him sometimes, so visible he had to wave his hand in front of his body to assure himself they weren’t real. That’s one reason why he often drank before bed. Alone in his room, reading or watching some bullshit or just listening to music while smoking. He felt averse to getting into bed without knowing for sure he won’t have to face that gnawing darkness that greets him menacingly in his restless, soporific state. Once he was asleep, no matter how black the darkness was or how tight the tunnels were, he was never terrified like he was by little things in his waking life.

Then he realized that he had been standing in the middle of this path in the park in the rain, staring blankly forward for several minutes. How easy he found it to disappear into his own thoughts. He thought at this point it was time to make something of his day, so he set his mind on seeing his friend Sarah. 

He loved seeing Sarah when he found himself deep in his depression, she brought life and energy back to his world. Which was something he’d been lacking recently, especially since he fell into the habit of sleeping late and getting more than twelve hours of sleep every day. Sarah was in many ways the complete opposite of himself, they complemented one another quite well.

After thinking about Sarah for ten minutes he found himself in front of her door. He wondered as he waited for her to answer how many things she had already done with her day, as she woke up at a crisp 7 am almost every single day.

To his surprise he found her aqua-gray door swinging open to an unusually perky, giggling, smiling, freckled face that was simultaneously hysterical, red, and wet with tears, a state that was rare for his friend. Without any words being passed between them, she pulled Gregory in by his right arm and embraced him. After a minute of warm embraces, a tight, loving squeeze, with her small, supple chin resting snugly on his shoulder, she managed to say through trembling lips and tear-glistened eyes, “I’m so glad it was you at the door. I couldn’t… have seen... see anyone else”, she said between sobs.

“Do you mind me asking what happened? The last time I saw you like this must’ve been when we were just kids” he replied.

“He’s gone, he left. I should’ve listened to you, I shouldn't have trusted him” she admitted.

“It’s probably for the best Sarah, you're too good for an ass like him”

She both giggled and sobbed in reply to this statement, doing that half-laugh, half-cry people do sometimes when they are sad but someone is able to make them laugh through it.

“Come into the kitchen. I’d just been eating ice cream if you’d like any, but seeing as it’s already dinner time I think I can justify drinking some wine. You want any of either?” she asked him. He smiled. 

“Do you even have to ask? You know I can’t turn down ice cream, let alone wine, regardless of how cheap it is. Ah, Franzia...” he sarcastically noted as she pulled it out from the cupboard. “Then I guess it's going to be either a really late or really early night for us” he added.

She giggled again, feeling the familiarity of her childhood’s friends sarcasm wash away her tears.

“Yes, yes I know. I only have it because it's leftover from my last girls’ night, which, come to think of it was ages ago. I’d wasted so much time on him, I barely made time for my friends…” she trailed off.

“Oh really? This ‘friend’ had no idea. It’s not like I’ve been wandering the park and frequenting the coffee shop all by myself these past few months”, he added.

“Oh please, I saw you more than any other friend while I was with him. Shut up and drink up ‘you’” she retorted, shoving a plastic cup filled with wine into his clammy hands. He took a sip, then looked back at his friend, just in time to catch sight of her fully tilted head returning to its usual place, having drained the contents of the entire cup.

“Oh and I thought you said ‘I’ was the alcoholic... I was the one with the drinking problem. ‘You know Gregory it’s OK to be sad sometimes but you really shouldn’t be trying to drown your problems with alcohol Gregory’” he mocked.

She met his eyes and hung her jaw out but still had some semblance of a smile remaining in her shocked and slightly offended expression.

“Oh Please! Me drinking one night because I’m sad is nothing compared to your nasty habit” emphasizing “nasty”.

“It’s not a habit, and I assure you you’d want to drink as much as I do if you slept as late and as long” sidestepping the fact that the main reason he drank at night was to ward off his mixed and unsatisfied feelings.

“Well, it’s too bad because I actually have something called ‘motivation’ where I’m able to wake up in the morning like a normal person” she cracked back.

This stung Gregory, she knew he had been especially depressed recently, which he thought had been causing this case of unusual sleep. Although they often touched on each other’s sensitive spots in a way that only two old friends could, this time he was wounded. He looked up at her as if to make a reply then looked back down and proceeded to pour a full cup of wine.

“I was just kidding Greg! Don’t get so gloomy! You know I get a bit too personal with jokes when I’m down. Really I wasn’t serious! Look!” he looked and she had gritted her teeth into a grossly exaggerated, truly silly smile while scrunching up her nose in the childish way she’d been showing him now and again for years. It was something she did sometimes when she went a bit too far and wanted to tell Gregory she didn’t mean whatever she said and was just playing around, they both knew it was a nonverbal way of her showing affection to him so he could know how much she cared. He couldn't help but laugh, looking into that goofy face, she looked so harmless yet she was the one person in his life capable of hurting him.

“I wouldn’t have come over if I knew that you’d use me as your emotional punching bag” he quietly jokes, almost making fun of his overly sad reaction.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, you really are a great punching bag, I feel better already!”

They both felt better actually, Gregory couldn't help but feel happy in Sarah’s presence, even when she was sad, her mere presence seemed to shine a little light on his dark depression.

“Well I’m glad I could be of some help to you,” he said, “Now you be of some help to me and get me some of that chocolate ice cream while I refill our glass-… cups” he corrected himself with a sneer towards Sarah.

They proceeded to spend the rest of the night in Sarah’s small, cozy kitchen. Sitting down eating ice cream and drinking wine in the space nuzzled in the inlet of the wall that had three little windows peering out into the small, soaked yard. They talked, drank more wine, got quite drunk and Gregory occasionally had to console Sarah when the wine paired with her raw emotions got the best of her. Gregory didn't pay any attention to the water droplets racing down the window, nor the blackness looming nearby, Sarah had become his entire world. He didn’t even crave a cigarette, something he always did when he got drunk.

Before long they noticed that they had been talking and laughing and crying and reminiscing about their childhood when they realized it was almost 3 am. Gregory was getting ready to leave when Sarah grabbed his arm again, this time very gently, and softly asked, with lips pouting slightly and eyes wide like a puppy dog, “This might sound kind of weird or ridiculous… like we’re children again, when really I’m a grown woman... But do you think..would you be able to stay over like we did when we were kids, like a sleepover? I’m scared to sleep alone tonight, I know it sounds stupid but I think I’d sleep much better if I knew you were in the room”

She must really need me tonight, he thought. They had abruptly stopped having sleepovers many years ago when Gregory started going through puberty and it became very clear to both of them a sleepover between friends when one friend had other feelings was highly inappropriate and unhealthy for the both of them, particularly Gregory. He thought it was almost a little selfish of her, he didn’t feel as strongly as he had so long ago when he started developing feelings, but he thought Sarah plainly knew those feelings never completely vanished. There had been occasional cuddling that would happen, in the moment it would make Gregory feel complete and happy, but would always make him feel so much worse after, thinking about it, wishing there could be more. But Sarah had a kind heart, and had stopped long ago doing things that they both knew were not acceptable for someone who said she just wanted to be friends, so he knew she must truly be desperate to ask that of him, knowing what she knows and being the good person and friend she’d always been.

“OK fine, but no funny stuff!” he joked, knowing full well neither of them would make any moves that would threaten their friendship.

“Thanks, G, you’re a good friend, even if I’m not all the time,” She said with a tear trailing down her plump, adorably freckled cheek.

“Anything for you, as always” he replied, not even trying to avoid the fact that it implied he still cared for her.

He tried to guard his feelings a little bit and to not fall into the same trap as he had let himself fall so many years ago, so many times, he decided to sleep on the couch in her room, not on her queen bed, sleeping in her bed with the smell of her body and the softness of her skin so close would be too overwhelming. He lay down on the couch and Sarah shut off her bedroom lights and lay down on her bed. She said, “Thanks G, I don’t know what I’d do without you… I love you… Goodnight”

“Goodnight Sarah”.