Rainstorm.
I found this in my folder earlier today. I must have written it after the gigantic, Hollywood-worthy thunderstorm that we had in July. So here it is now.
It was a beautiful thunderstorm, the way it roiled in without anyone really noticing... and then broke with a crack that shook the walls.
The thunder rumbled, so loud I could hear its echo through Nicole's end of the line. It was surreal. "We'll be over in a few minutes," I promised, and I hung up.
Milla insisted that we stop by her house to retrieve her notebook and her brand-new Ann Taylor umbrella. "To break it in," she explained neatly, and made a mad dash for the house, slamming the car door with a wet thud. I waited in the car, my dripping raincoat draped over my knees.
She had left the car running, and Natalie Merchant crooned through the speakers to the rhythm of the rain drumming on the roof. Her voice was gliding, lilting, hypnotic. I should have been nervous. I'd never seen lightning so brilliant and so frequent, never felt the earth shake beneath me with each thunderclap.
"you're passionate," he said to me.
"about some things," i replied neutrally. privately, i thought, passionate? i am lazy and unmotivated. i am not passionate.
"about a lot of things," he said. "about being happy, about living life your way."
"stubborn," i corrected.
"i said what i meant." he examined me for a moment. "i get tired just watching you sometimes."
The rain poured in rippling sheets down the windows, refracting the glare from the headlights, distorting my view of the driveway and the trees and the house with its cherry-red door.
"you seem like a person who has a lot to deal with."
"i guess i just figure it's nobody's to handle but my own."
"why won't you let someone help? why won't you let me in?"
"why won't you just let it go?"
The rain began tearing down even more violently, heavy drops that threatened to turn into hail, to punch braille patterns in the roof of Milla's car as if it were just so much tin. I wanted suddenly, violently, to be out in it. To be out in that movie scene in someone's arms, to be swept away by the rain and the thunder and the song on the radio, the swirling concoction of smooth chocolate voice and piano dark and rich as wine.
you better shut your mouth// and hold your breath// and kiss me now// you'll catch your death
I wanted to be with him, with a fierce surprising onslaught of wanting-- like I'd never wanted him before.
"it changed you."
"it's still changing me."
"you're resilient."
"no. i'm a survivor."
"a fighter."
a pause.
"yeah. yeah, that's what i am."
It was a beautiful thunderstorm, the way it roiled in without anyone really noticing... and then broke with a crack that shook the walls.
The thunder rumbled, so loud I could hear its echo through Nicole's end of the line. It was surreal. "We'll be over in a few minutes," I promised, and I hung up.
Milla insisted that we stop by her house to retrieve her notebook and her brand-new Ann Taylor umbrella. "To break it in," she explained neatly, and made a mad dash for the house, slamming the car door with a wet thud. I waited in the car, my dripping raincoat draped over my knees.
She had left the car running, and Natalie Merchant crooned through the speakers to the rhythm of the rain drumming on the roof. Her voice was gliding, lilting, hypnotic. I should have been nervous. I'd never seen lightning so brilliant and so frequent, never felt the earth shake beneath me with each thunderclap.
"you're passionate," he said to me.
"about some things," i replied neutrally. privately, i thought, passionate? i am lazy and unmotivated. i am not passionate.
"about a lot of things," he said. "about being happy, about living life your way."
"stubborn," i corrected.
"i said what i meant." he examined me for a moment. "i get tired just watching you sometimes."
The rain poured in rippling sheets down the windows, refracting the glare from the headlights, distorting my view of the driveway and the trees and the house with its cherry-red door.
"you seem like a person who has a lot to deal with."
"i guess i just figure it's nobody's to handle but my own."
"why won't you let someone help? why won't you let me in?"
"why won't you just let it go?"
The rain began tearing down even more violently, heavy drops that threatened to turn into hail, to punch braille patterns in the roof of Milla's car as if it were just so much tin. I wanted suddenly, violently, to be out in it. To be out in that movie scene in someone's arms, to be swept away by the rain and the thunder and the song on the radio, the swirling concoction of smooth chocolate voice and piano dark and rich as wine.
you better shut your mouth// and hold your breath// and kiss me now// you'll catch your death
I wanted to be with him, with a fierce surprising onslaught of wanting-- like I'd never wanted him before.
"it changed you."
"it's still changing me."
"you're resilient."
"no. i'm a survivor."
"a fighter."
a pause.
"yeah. yeah, that's what i am."
1 Comments:
I really enjoyed reading this.
-Sea
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