Day 3: "And the rain came down"
“Why does the rain have to come on my day off school?” whined my little brother. “And why does it come down, not go up?”
“Oh , for goodness sake”, I snapped, “Everyone knows that rain falls… where would it go if it went up?”
Suddenly my thoughts took an entirely different view of rain. What would happen if rain went up , not came down. Where would it go? How would the Earth survive? Are we living an illusion when we think we see rain falling. Are we on the wrong side of it and what we think is coming down, is actually going up?
My little brother was forgotten as I sat by the window , thinking these deep thoughts, and watching those diamond bright raindrops sliding slowly down the panes. Was it gravity that made them move , was it me assuming that I saw them sliding downwards. Was my brain seeing one thing and telling me another.
I was interrupted in my reverie by the whining boy again. “ Katy ,when can we go outside to play?”he asked.
“Tell you what, Bri,” ( his name was really Brian, and he hated being called Bri,) “ we’ll go out now, shall we?”
“Get your little raincoat and wellington boots on, and we’ll go and dance in the rain.”
He ran off with a loud whoop of joy, and I slowly stretched my way out of the window seat and went to find my jacket . Rushing back with his coat half buttoned and his boots on the wrong feet, little Brian met me in the hall. We opened the front door and stepped out into the world of blustery wind and heavy raindrops.
Brian stood there on our front path with his mouth open and his hair plastered to his head. “Look, I’m catching the raindrops,” he said. “You be careful,” I answered” the rain might melt you away”
He shook his head at me, laughing at my stupidity, and that’s the last I can remember seeing of him. A little blonde haired boy in bright yellow wellington boots, and a big blue raincoat, slowly melting into a puddle on our front path.
Day 3: “And that’s when she shot me”.
I groaned inwardly at the mound of paperwork my boss was insisting had to be done tonight. It was impossible and he knew it. The only way I could get through this many accounts is if I stayed late and missed my in law’s anniversary dinner, which my wife would not appreciate. I would be in trouble for weeks. I knew there was nothing I could do about it; I was on thin ice with my boss at the moment. For some reason, we didn’t get on particularly well which meant that more often than not I was the one who had to deal with the jobs everybody else avoided.
As I had predicted, it took me hours to work through it. When I had finished, the office was dark. Everybody else would be home by now, beer in hand. They probably wouldn’t have to deal with an angry wife either. They didn’t realize how lucky they were.
Frankly I wished I was at home right now instead of stuck behind the wheel. Even though I knew there would be arguments about the many late nights I had been working recently, I wanted nothing more to change out of my shirt and tie and watch late night tv. I always felt like a different person in the office. As soon as I stepped through the doors, I felt the smile shrink from my face.
When I was younger, I had promised myself I would never turn into an office drone. I had planned on being a chef, turning my passion for food into something tangible. At least, I had until we needed a mortgage. All too soon, I had to grow up. I had to get a ‘real’ job, be responsible. I had told myself it was only temporary, something to line my pockets while I trained. That was seven long years ago.
A red light flickered on my dashboard, drawing my attention. I cursed when I saw that the petrol tank was empty and pulled in to the layby. I dug through the pockets of my trousers looking for my mobile only to realize that it wasn’t there. I had left it on my desk. Muttering under my breath, I started the two mile walk along the weatherworn roads the town council refused to fix. By the time I saw the small three bedroomed terraced house I called home, my shoes were coated in a thick layer of dust and grime. I had taken the tie from my neck awhile ago, preferring to feel the small gusts of wind on my skin. Despite the darkening sky, the walk had brought a smile to face; in a town as small as this, it was easy to submerge yourself in the nature all around and simply forget. To forget about work and the boss who hated me. To forget about the angry wife who was asleep alone. It was strangely blissful.
Perhaps this is why I didn’t announce my arrival when I slipped through the front door. The house was silent, asleep at this late hour. I didn’t want to disturb the peace the quiet brought.
Kicking my shoes from my weary feet, I headed to the small kitchen towards the back. I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me as I rooted through the fridge, searching for the cold, refreshing beer I had long been craving. The first thing I heard was the click of a trigger, the first thing I felt was the searing pain in my leg. I shouted in surprise, words I wouldn’t care to repeat. I looked down at the blood seeping from my calf in shock.
Turning, I found myself face to face with my wife, a look of horror on her face and the small handgun I had inherited from my father clutched in her shaky hands.
“Gary, I’m so sorry! I thought… I thought you were a murderer… or a thi- “
“So you shot me?!” I knew I was incoherent now, the pain causing a fog to settle on my brain. As if from a distance, I could hear my wife’s distraught apologies but I paid no attention. There was but one thought, one ridiculous, unimportant thought in my head. If I had been thinking clearly I would have laughed.
Maybe this will stop the boss from making me work late.
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