Let it Rain

I couldn’t eat in front of him. I can’t eat in front of any guy, really. It takes a while before I can even think about stuffing my gob in front of a boy. I need time to get to know him and feel comfortable, you know?

Probably not.

I can’t even recall when the complex started.

Middle school, maybe…?

I just can’t help it, but it’s like my crunches, slurps, and swallowing it all down becomes amplified. I think it stems from childhood and is part Mom’s fault. She made me and Dad eat super quietly. She said it was polite. I didn’t get it, but it stuck, evolved over time and now I starve myself when around boys.

Thanks Mom.

So, after Jack, or “Quick,” ran off, I had to get something in my vengeful stomach. Anything would’ve been fine with me. It wasn’t about the pleasure of tasting something delicious by this point. I seriously stuffed down one of those greasy burger from that same place.

After wanting to vomit for the next thirty minutes, I thought about him. I don’t think I even said ‘Thank you.”

Forcing myself up to throw away the greasy remnants, I yanked out a handful of napkins. I had to make sure nobody could tell what a pig I am. That’s when I saw it, hanging off the seat.

“No way,” I said aloud before quickly covering my mouth.

My eyes were fixated, as my heart fluttered away the remaining nausea. He’d left his black bandana. It had to be his. It was in his seat, but I hadn’t noticed it on him. A part of me wanted him to have left it on purpose, so I’d have to find him again. But then why did he jet like that?

      And why do I want to think that?

____________________________________________

“Oh my gosh! I do not have a crush on him!” I yelled back.

“Oh yes, you do! Don’t lie to yourself!” Jessica teased before she finally sat and simmered down into her adult voice. “I mean it’s okay, he did save your life, you know?”

It was true. He didn’t have to do that. But still, I didn’t like him like that, yesterday. It had to have happened when—

Oh yes, I knew. It was his voice. His chiseled face. His skinny but muscular body like the statue of a Greek god. His arms littered with battle scars, no veins though. He looked tough enough for others not to fuck with him. But now I wanted to, real bad.

After he took a bath, of course.

I started to hear drops on our roof which must’ve been made out of tin, it was so noisy. Outside, I saw people go from a walk to a full-out sprint across the streets. It’s funny watching people deal with the weather. They’re so unpredictable.

And stupid.

That was one of the reasons why I didn’t drive my truck around. People are horrible drivers, especially in bad weather. And in Texas, where it barely does anything other than the sun shining, people freak out in rain, and in the ice we get one or two days a year, in Austin. Plus, I can take the bus anywhere I need to go.

The rain was plummeting harder now. Soon, there wasn’t anybody walking around. Not even with umbrellas. I thought about Jack.

He better be somewhere safe.

Jessica had turned turned to the news on the television. The forecast said, “Rain, rain, and more rain.” And that “floods were imminent.”

My heart started beating faster, Head was starting to sweat. Jessica noticed, too.

“You alright, Al?”

“Yea,” I said back.

But I was lying. I felt sick in my stomach. All I could think about was Jack.

I walked over to the door and started to put on my shoes.

“Where you goin’?” Jessica asked.

I ignored her and continued tying the laces. I looked around and spotted my orange umbrella on the counter next to the table in the kitchen. There were no separating walls inside. It was all one big room with a staircase that led to two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.

“You’re going to find him, aren’t ya?” Jessica again.

“Freakin’ Sherlock Holmes, everybody,” I announced to an invisible crowd. Then back to Jessica. “He’s homeless. I have to know if he’s okay.”

After she gave the invisible crowd a wave, Jessica nodded her head and said, “Be careful.”

“Yes, mother,” I teased, as I opened the umbrella outside and left.