☆☆☆ Chapter 56 ☆☆☆

Call Out the Heavy Rain

The windows were halfway open. They were letting in the harsh, cool wind that slapped its glass every now and then and it didn't care. So the wind moaned and screeched, moved around the curtains, and after a while, silently creeped by our ankles.

The windows didn't care 'bout the angry little droplets of rain that were making their way through to us either, so over time pools of water formed on the windowpanes and floor. Some of them tickled the soles of our feet, and had we not been on the third floor, I would've expected a slimy green frog to hop around them sometime in between it all.

"What did you do to him?" Teresa asked.

The sky was gray. Cloudy. Grim. Perfect for a scary movie. For me to be in one and die.

"What nice weather we're having," I said.

I couldn't care less 'bout the windows or the pools or the sky or whatever right now, but I had to. Together they were the one thing capable of steering my attention away from Teresa. Why would I need to do that? The answer's obvious: I didn't have the guts to face her. Eye contact was a no-no. Why didn't I just straight up avoid her? Why didn't I just close the door on her, turn away when she passed by me in the hallway, ignore her voice when she spoke? Another easy answer: I couldn't. I just couldn't. Trust me, I tried. She just has a presence that can't be denied. My willpower is useless. Maybe it's 'cuz she's a whole century older than me, or 'cuz she's my sister. Maybe it's 'cuz she knows best. Or 'cuz the burn on the side of her neck's constantly on my mind now and it's sending me on the guilt trip of a lifetime. I don't know.

"Ane look at me." We've been at it for ten minutes straight. "Look at me."

"Don't you think so?" No response came out of her. "It's a lil' chilly 'n breezy, sure, but it's nice."

"Look at me. Listen. Mom wants us to come over tomorrow, to spend this weekend with them."

"I know that already. For the..." I fixed my throat, blinked away the sudden sting in my eyes. "The anniversary and... " I sighed. "For everything, right?"

"So you are listening to me, and you recognize it," she scoffed. "But you're just choosing what to respond to. Turning away. Ignoring me whenever I say anything that's inconvenient for you. How childish of you. I thought you were trying to be past that now."

I swallowed hard and kept my eyes fixed on my toes. They were having fun splashing away on one of the pools nearby, mixing their salty sweat with rainwater. "It's barely three o'clock and it's dark outside. We're gonna have to turn the lights on soon. Isn't that crazy?"

"What did you do to him?"

"Or, now that I think about it, we could just go to sleep. It's a good day for that."

"Hmm, I still can't wrap my head around what happened last Sunday night. It was so strange. What exactly was going on there? What was up with Jordan? He was being a whole ass and a half... and Hilery! Does she really have a── "

"A brat? Ha! You don't even know half of it! There's a whole lot more to it than that, you won't believe who the father is," I gasped. "These white people are crazy crazy, if y'know what I mean. I can tell you all about it if you want. Just... don't tell anyone you got it from me."

"So you choose to respond to this." She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, go right ahead, enlighten me. I'll surely be surprised. It's not like I've been dealing with a nutjob already." I think her glare got a little more bitter than before at that, and just the thought of it made something crawl up my spine. I'm not stupid, I know exactly who she means and she's not wrong, but can she not look at me like that? "What did you do to him? What did you do to Daniel?"

I pushed the chair out of my dressing table and sprung out of it. "Oomph, it's way too chilly now. I'm gonna go grab a sweater real quick. I'll grab one for you too. I'll be right back."

With a full-on scowl on her face, she got a good hold of my arm and squeezed. "Sit yourself back down Ane! There's an easy solution. You can close the damn windows. So unless you're standing up to close them, you're going to sit yourself back down. Why are they open in the first place? What in the world have you been doing?"

"Nothing. And no. I don't wanna." I wrinkled my nose and felt a greasy pimple on its side. Not even a second after, I started to press on it with my free hand. "It's my room and I do what I want with it." With my eyes criss-crossed, the pimple-pokes turned to another helpful distraction from my sister's glare. "You can't tell me what to do," I added.

"And yet, you sat back down as soon as I told you to," she scoffed. "If I push enough, I'm sure you will close the windows too." Her words made my cheeks burn with a passion, enough to make my hands clench from the heat, but it was a weird burn── I didn't feel like knocking her out or anything. I felt like knocking myself down. Was it shame? What else could it be? "I'm done playing with you. Look at me. Listen to me, and listen to me real good. I know what you did to him. I know why he's tense. It's written all over your face. But I want to hear you say it before I smack you, so you better answer me. What did you do to Daniel?" Smack?! "Hello?"

"What!"

Her hand flew up and before I knew it my breath was stuck in my throat and a yelp just barely got out of it. Everything went black.

Nothing stung.

Slowly, I let my arms down and took a peek at what was in front of me. Teresa was right there, towering over me with her large hand still way up high and with her nose all flared-up, making me feel like a terrible little brat. If it weren't for her smaller build I would've confused her as Mom. The Mom I get when I respond with 'nonya.'

"Whatever," she mumbled after a while. As she slumped back to the soaked bean bag, she let out a long, soft sigh. One that sounded kinda tired of me. "I'm not giving you the satisfaction of getting the punishment you want. Or deserve." Oh would you look at that? I was right. She's tired of me and my bullshit. "Get out of here." Wait, what? "That's right, you heard me right. Get out of here. Out. Take a long walk. Look at the people around you. Wonder about all the things you possibly can about them. Take some time to look at yourself, and then, as you waddle your way back to this deplorable room of yours three hours later, think long and hard about why I should've slapped you. Only then will I be willing to talk to you again, period."

Outside, the wind will slap me just right.

☆☆☆

Walking my way to my boyfriend's bedroom was easier than I thought. I wasn't feeling nervous or jumpy, and neither was I cursing at myself like I'd done outside on the walk, clinging onto the umbrella for my worthless life, but it sure as heck didn't mean I was strutting my way over there. My back was hunched over far more than usual. My arms followed it from the front. Their globby fat rubbed and burned the skin on the sides of my torso. And all my eyes had the nerve to see was the waxy finish on the parts of the floor that weren't covered by the carpet in the hallway. Sometimes it was all blurry to me, so I had to pass a hand over my face to make my vision clear again. No, I wasn't crying. Yes, I was.

Maybe I would've felt worse if I didn't know he wouldn't be there. I would've been fine with that though 'cuz I needed to face the consequences of my actions, face them head on, so who would be the best for that if not Daniel, the man of my life, who I keep hurting with my stupid bullshit── now more than ever before? As I wrapped my palm 'round his doorknob, some thoughts popped up in my head, all related to that. Like the things I should say to him when I see him again. How I should apologize some more. How I miss his lively kisses and smiles. Tell him how much he means to me. Tell him, for once, that I love him too, no matter what. That everything I read in his journal or diary or whatever doesn't change a thing, even if it means that I know of the cringy but beautiful shit he's written 'bout me. And who knows what else he's done. I've only read thirty or forty-something pages of his newest diary, after all. How about Robin, and all the shit he's done with your things over the years?

Oh, that's right. Have I even told him I read it in the first place? No. Ask about Robin when you see him again, straight up. Come on.

I need to come clean. I need to let him know and hey, that'll open up a conversation. Hopefully he'll forgive me. And even if he doesn't, I'll feel better after keeping it in for I don't know how long. How about the underwear problem? How about those pictures in the gray envelopes? Come on Ane. Ask him. Straight up, straight up.

There was barely any light in his room, the lamps on his nightstands were off. But because I walked in from the hallway there was enough of it to see smooth, whole waves of gold lying on the bed, snug on a pillow.

So shit. There he was, there he frickin' was, in the goddamned bedroom. And worse yet, his eyes were wide open and completely on me.

"Wow! Hey!" Why the heck was he there? "I thought you were downstairs. In your study room. Doing stuff." I could've sworn that manservant told me Daniel was busy when I asked! What the heck do people think busy means? Busy relaxing? Busy sleeping? Oh for fuck's sake! There's no way I misunderstood, no way! "Don't worry, I'll be in and out. Fast. Real fast. Just here to pick up some tapes. And the player." I pushed as many words out of myself as I could to prevent an awkward silence from happening. "Uh, y'know. For my room. To watch in my room. Bedroom." Yup. Horror movies. War dramas. Dramas. Perfect weather. I wanna scream and cry tonight. I mean, I wanted to. I wanted to squeeze out every part of me and come out of my room nice and fresh the next day, so that I could face him. But he's here now. Right here, right now. Why? Why, why, why? Can the world not do this to me?

I gulped as he reached over to turn on the lamp closest to him. A small smile crossed his face. There was no glow in it. "Hey. Yeah, I was... having a talk with Joel there. I tend to get a bit under the weather with him." He turned his head to the side and let out a soft, shaky laugh. He then scratched the top of his bedhead. "So you're going to watch some movies?"

His beige walls never looked more interesting than in that moment. "Yeah." Were they matte?

"Sounds great," he replied. Just as his head flipped back at me, a flash of light creeped in from the sides of the curtain, and soon enough the roars of thunder followed. The whirring of his air conditioner did nothing to muffle it. "I was wondering, before you go do that, if you'd like to go to a café with me. Or grab a bite at Opera's."

I cleared my throat. "But it's raining."

"Yes, but... "

I blinked twice. "It's raining."

"I think we should talk."

By then a shirtless Daniel had wiggled himself out of the blanket and was minutes-deep into looking up at me. There were no signs of my flirty touches on him. No wild blotches of red, no soft pinks, no nothing. It was all pale. Not like the desire wasn't around though. There was lots of it building up in me but everything's been so awkward because of my top-tier bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Bullshit this, bullshit that. God, stop whining already!

"Oh." I felt a pang on my chest, but it was welcomed. I needed to face things, and ready or not, here he was. "But we don't have to." Wait, why did I say that? "There's nothing to talk about."

"Ane," he began. "There is plenty to talk about. For starters, Joel is well on his way to finding... " I focused on the way his soft lips moved, and the many shades of pink they had. From the parts that were closer to his wet mouth to the drier parts touching the tiny bits of hair growing by their edges. 'specially on his Cupid's bow. I loved touching that part when it was full of hair. I would ruffle it up and he would playfully tell me to stop. I would say the same when they happened to tickle my thighs, and we would both giggle. When will we do those things again? Soon, soon. Hopefully. "Ane?"

"I'm... gonna take a shower. We can talk after that."

"Or we can talk now."

"Or we can talk tomorrow. After Connor. At Opera's."

"Ane," his sweet lips mumbled. When his focus fell to my collarbone I found my hands reaching for it. What they ended up feeling was the coolness of a hard, smooth surface. One that hung loose over a thin, velvety fabric wrapped around my neck and told everyone in his family that I'm happily married to the love of my life. "This... " this hurts. Why am I being so difficult?

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening with me. We can talk now."

"Through everything?"

I nodded. "Everything."

The moment he opened his mouth again I felt yet another pang on my chest. This time it felt like something terrible was pressing on it and I couldn't do anything about it. So the first thing I did wasn't surprising, not in the very least. I broke into a cold sweat. But I didn't expect myself to rush over to his stack of tapes. I know that's what I was there for, but I had just agreed to have a one-on-one with him. Running my shaky fingers past the titles never felt so weird and nerve-wracking.

"Ane── "

Straight up. "So what's Roger's middle name?" Shit. Robin? Is it Robin? It's Robin, isn't it? Me and my stupid mouth!

"What?" my boyfriend snorted. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Shit. Fix it, fix it! "Does he have a middle name?" What in the world am I doing?

I heard the loudest sigh ever. "Yes." Ha! "Israel. Why?" Oh. Not even close.

"I don't know." Just who the fuck's Robin then? "He just knows so much about you. So I was... wondering if you knew about him."

"Yes, why wouldn't I? We've known each other since elementary." My fingers picked up on some imaginary dust on the tapes, so I blew it all away from them. When I was done, my eyes landed on a title that caught my attention. "We're friends." A war drama. Daniel and I watched it weeks ago, huddled together in our bubble of love and lust. It wouldn't be so bad to watch it again.

When I picked it out from the shelf, Daniel went off again. "If you're suggesting something, I want to be clear with you about it── he is my friend. Nothing more, nothing less."

"No, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way." But now that it's come up── no, but now nothing. Nothing! Shut up, brain. No, no, honey. You've got it all wrong── better to be safe than sorry, right? Right? Dig in, come on. No. "It's just... it's just, he's quite... the guy, huh?" I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh my god I'm so sorry for being so stupid. No, this isn't me. This isn't me saying this. Yes, yes it is. You know it is. "He's pretty tall."

" ...Anyone is tall next to me." His voice was dry. Void of any feeling. I've really done it now, haven't I? For the greater good.

"No, I mean like tall, tall. Y'know?" When will I stop?

"He has long legs. Gives you the illusion. That is all." There was a short pause in his reply. "If you haven't noticed, he's only two inches taller than you."

With the war drama in hand, I was finally able to turn away from the stack. I had a three-hour long movie to watch. But there was shame in the pit of my stomach, and nothing good came out of me turning, either. Daniel's face was completely blank. Completely my fault. For the greater good. "And he's pretty built." What greater good? What does that mean? What am I doing? Did I not learn anything from the walk?

"I guess? I don't know. All I see is the chubby Roger from elementary."

"And he's pretty... nice?" Every hangout, every conversation, every time we've met, he's been normal. Nothing unusual.

But it's only because he's a whole shadow hiding in civilian clothes.

But, but he saved me once too, and I need to trust him. Daniel does. He's a whole shadow of a person in civilian clothes. You said it yourself. How can we trust that? Come on. Better to be safe than...

"He is nothing but a clown."

"And those cheekbones── "

"Imani can we not do this, please? He's my friend. This... this is making me uncomfortable. I don't want to see him that way." He crossed his arms. "This isn't the talk we need── "

"Does he have a girlfriend?" There was a strong, oily bitterness that made a home for itself on my tongue after the words came out. It was gross and terrible and disgusting. It kept my head down and honestly, deep down I was grateful for that. Just the thought of looking at Daniel's blank face again brought me nothing but dread, and actually, who knows what it looked like now that I asked him the worst thing I could possibly ask? "Is he with anyone?"

I'm seriously ruining things and I don't understand why I'm doing it. How did it come to this? How did I get here? Whose throat are these things really coming out of?

Better be safe than sorry. For the greater good.

That's it. I'm gonna bang my head on my dresser as soon as I step into my room. Then I'll throw myself on the floor and stare at the ceiling. I'll let the rain pour and pour and pour on me...

"This hurts." Right then and there my grip on the tape tightened. The sharp ends of its dark plastic cover threatened to cut a finger but I kept on going and going 'til── "This hurts, Ane." ── I had to let go. Sometime after, I rubbed my icy fingers against the cover and felt an odd, wet warmth in the tiniest of spots, so I couldn't help but want to know what it was. And you know what? The world's pretty evil, but this was some otherworldly level type of it: on the cover of the war drama Daniel and I had seen, the one he begged me to watch with him, there was a small droplet of blood right next to a name. An actor's name. Robin. Robin Freeman. Robin, Robin, Robin.

I brought my finger up to my face and sucked away the blood. Bit it. And oh, how awful it tasted. Because that's exactly what I was. Awful.

I went out of my way to do the dumbest of things. I went out of my way to come at my boyfriend for people that have been nothing but fuel to my stupid brain, because I let the worst in me take over. Because I'm dumb and weak and insecure. Might as well have asked 'bout the waiter again to rub salt on my damn wound.

I've learned nothing. I take and take and never give. Hurting's my specialty. I've done nothing good. Have I tried? Maybe, maybe not. But it's not enough. I haven't lived up to anything. I haven't kept up with what I've promised myself. Day by day, I'm supposed to make some sort of progress, but I mess up. Every day, all day. But it's not my fault. This is just you. You can't help it, right? It's hard. I give in without realizing it. Am I not strong enough? Is that it?

What did I plan to do to grow all this time? Did I plan anything at all? Did I just want a punch from reality and start fresh as if I wouldn't have to face myself? Who exactly am I doing this for, then? Is it not me? Didn't I want to change? What should I do? What am I doing? What am I doing wrong? Everything? This self-realization, this kick to the gut, is this what Teresa wanted me to think about? Oh for god's sake why didn't she slap me!

"What can I do for you to trust me?"

Hearing the cracks in his sweet voice forced me to do exactly what I dreaded. I didn't even think twice about it until the very moment my eyes met his.

Only one thought crossed my mind, over and over and over again, as everything in me froze at their sight: I didn't protect him.

No words in the English language could possibly describe what I felt, what I saw. All I know's that I was all over him by the time I blinked again, crying and crying and crying. And the rain poured and poured and poured on me and him and us.

I didn't protect him. I didn't protect him. I didn't...