Under the Autumn Rain

Sarah Mendez never liked autumn. It was only her second autumn in Canada, but she had decided that she hated autumn. “I hate rain,” she muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms under her bosom. She had no idea why, although she had thought of possible reasons. Probably because she was born in the spring. Or probably because she felt gloomy when it rained. Or probably because she hated walking from the bus stop to her sister’s house even with an umbrella. All she knew was that she absolutely hated rain.



Particularly on this day. It was the longest day of the week and she had two heavy textbooks in her backpack. She also had a quiz in her accounting course and, just like everybody else, she was sure she had failed it. Not to mention, she had an awful fight with her best friend, Andrew. Nothing seems right today.



As she rode the bus home, she wondered why everything had to go wrong on the second day of the week. It was only Tuesday, but it already felt like Friday. I hate Tuesdays, she whispered over and over again. And as she looked up at the dark sky, she decided she hated Tuesdays and rain even more.



She turned away from the dark sky and met a young man’s gaze. He was sitting across from her seat at the back of the bus. He was clad in dark blue jeans, grey running shoes, and old and tattered brown leather jacket. When she caught his gaze, he bashfully smiled and turned away from her. Where have I seen that guy before?  She vaguely remembered another rainy day last year when he rode the same afternoon bus with her.



She turned her eyes away from his crimson face, which was very noticeable even as he looked down. I wonder why he was looking at me like that, she thought as she stared at the empty seats before her. She looked down at her black leather jacket, then at her dark blue shirt underneath, then at her black jeans, and at her blue running shoes. Oh, Lord, please tell me I picked the right clothes this morning before I left for school. Afterwards, she patted her layered curly brown hair. Does my hair look tangled because the wind seemed to enjoy sending every single strand of my hair to every possible direction? Then, looking upwards, to the dark sky, she sighed. Is he one of those people who make fun of me behind my back?



Then, without warning, without her wanting to, her tears flowed from her eyes, down to her caramel cheeks. She anxiously glanced at the guy, fearing that he was looking at her again. Seeing that he wasn’t looking, she let her tears flow freely. She softly sobbed and anxiously glanced again at him. Good, he’s still not looking at me. Unexpectedly, she let out a slightly louder sob. The guy abruptly turned to her with a wrinkled forehead, meeting her doleful gaze. His handsome hazel eyes seemed stunned at seeing her weep. Oh please, don’t talk to me, she silently begged him. I know I can’t talk without crying even more.



To her disappointment, she saw him leave his seat, his huge blue backpack partially under the steel blue two-seater, and transfer to the empty seat beside hers. She felt his autumn-cold right hand touch her left shoulder. Then she heard him speak, his quiet low voice on her left ear. “Anything wrong?”



She wanted to tell him that everything was wrong. She longed to tell him to leave her alone. She yearned for him to hold her and comfort her, and tell her that she was beautiful. But she could only cry harder.



She felt his hand rubbing her back. He didn’t say anything; he just rubbed her back. And he just let her cry; quite the opposite of what Andrew might do if he were there. She was surprised that her tears seemed to stop flowing the moment he touched her back.



Suddenly, she heard his gentle deep voice saying, “It’s almost our stop.” She looked at him with her tearful eyes. Our stop? She saw him smile timidly before he wiped the solitary tear that flowed down her cheek with the palm of his right thumb. Then she only stared at him as he pulled the string to indicate to the bus driver (who had no idea what was happening behind him) that they were getting off at the next stop. She then felt his strong hands helping her to get up, as if she were ill. Standing with feeble knees, she was surprised at her sudden weakness. Though she felt weak, she managed to pull her backpack from the floor and carry it on her back on her own. As she did, she noticed that the guy briefly left her side. Staring at him through her tearful eyes, she saw that he had quickly put his equally heavy backpack on. Then he was back at her side in a flash. He picked up her black umbrella with his right hand as he touched her elbow with his left hand, as if he were helping his grandmother walk. He then held her elbow as they got off the bus. When they were completely out under the grey sky, it started to rain. And it wasn't an ordinary rain. It beat hard on her head.



In a moment, she found that he had opened the huge black umbrella. She stared at him as he walked to the crosswalk with her. She watched him as he pushed the Cross button on the post. When he turned to go back to her side, he caught her gaze. Though he was now staring into her eyes, she did not turn away; she stared at him, as if probing deep into his eyes. He put his long arm around her shoulder.



“I have an idea,” he said. She creased her forehead as she wondered what his idea was. She watched as he smiled before he spoke. “Why don’t we talk under the bus-stop-slash-waiting-shed across the street before I walk you home?”



She glanced at the empty bus stop. She turned back to him and tried to smile. “Sure.” It was almost a whisper.



Just then, the light turned red and they crossed the street. Once inside the waiting shed, they sat beside each other on the steel blue bench. The young man sat to Sarah's left. Nobody spoke for a moment. In fact, except for the sound of the rain beating on the roof of the shed and the sound of cars driving by them, it was silent. He was the first to speak. “Would you mind if I asked what made you cry?”



She was surprised to hear his gentle masculine voice. She was even more surprised to gaze at his hazel eyes that were full of concern for her. Does he care about me? But wait, why would he be this concerned about me? He doesn’t even know me!



“I guess you don’t want to talk about it.” There was his gentle masculine voice again. “That’s all right with me.” He paused before he spoke again. “But, don’t you think it’d be better for you to talk about it, even to a stranger?”



“I don’t mind,” she stammered. “And, yeah. It would be better for me to talk about it.” A moment of silence passed between them before Sarah continued. She recited her troubles and he seemed to listen to her. He probably thinks they’re silly. She turned to him and tried to smile. “It just feels like everything’s going wrong and nothing’s going right. It’s so frustrating!”



He touched her back. “It will be all right tomorrow.”



“How do you know?”



“Because that’s how life goes. Life can get messed up this moment, and then, all of a sudden, it will be fixed the next. It might be a bad day today. But, have you thought that tomorrow might be a lot better than today? It could even be the best day of your life – at least for the week – tomorrow. All you have to do is cast your troubles on God. He's probably using those things to make you the person that He wants you to be.” He had started to turn away, as if he had finished his little speech, but he caught himself and turned back to her. “And always remember this: God loves you.” Then he smiled at her.



She was gazing at him and she felt her heart open up as he smiled at her. Then she heard a voice telling her to listen to this young man. “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”^x  Sarah now gazed at the young man with an inquiring look in her eyes. “Did you just quote a verse from the Bible?” she asked him as she creased her forehead.



He also creased his forehead and shook his head. “No. Why?”



She stared at him with a hint of shock and wonder in her eyes. She then turned away from him and his eyes. “Nothing,” she mumbled as she shook her head. A few moments of silence passed between the two before anybody spoke.



“Thanks,” Sarah quietly told the young man.



He smiled. “No problem.”



“I can never thank you enough for helping me when I was momentarily weak – physically and emotionally. I mean, we barely know each other, but you chose to comfort me. You chose to be by my side.”



He blushed. I wonder why he’s blushing. “Anytime you need a mortal man, I’m here.” He bashfully smiled before he continued. “And, oh, by the way, you can thank me enough if you tell me your name. That is, if you don’t mind.”



“No, not at all. I'm Sarah. Sarah Mendez” And she offered her hand to the young man.



He took her hand and held it, the warmth of his hand travelling to hers and then to her heart. “And I’m Joshua Stevenson.” Then he kissed the back of her hand.



Sarah giggled. And when Joshua looked up at her with his handsome hazel eyes, she giggled even more. Joshua chuckled, but he didn’t let go of her hand.



They spent a long moment like that: Joshua held Sarah’s hand as each smiled at the cars that passed by them. I wish this moment would just last forever, she thought as she replayed in her mind the scene in which he kissed the back of her hand. It feels good by his side; his hand feels warm on my hand. His handsome eyes and shy smile make me feel great. In fact, he makes me feel great. I wonder if he were born to be my angel.



“Do you want me to walk you home now?”



She turned to him and looked at him as if she couldn’t believe that he’d ask that. What? He wants to take me home now? She looked around and realized that the rain had stopped. Despite her disappointment, she just smiled and nodded at him.



So they stood up. They quickly put on their heavy backpacks and walked out of the shed. They walked in silence as Joshua held her hand. When they reached Sarah’s house, she stood upon her doorstep facing Joshua as he stood on the ground two steps down.



“I hope you’re feeling better now. Remember God loves you.”



“As a matter of fact, I am feeling better now. Thanks again. And, yeah, I’ll remember that.”



“Good. So, I guess it’s goodbye for now,” he said, his tone with a hint of reluctance.



“Yeah, I guess so. Bye, for now. Take care.”



“Thanks. Goodbye.” And he slowly walked away from her. But, he stopped after a few paces and turned back to her. He seemed to hesitate for a moment as if he were not sure what to say or how to say it. Then Joshua spoke, his voice slightly quivering, his face scarlet. “Sarah, why don’t we have lunch tomorrow at school, at around twelve-thirty?”



She wondered how he knew she would be free at that time. But she just smiled at him “Sure. I’ll see you at ten-thirty tomorrow then,” she said slowly.



“Tomorrow,” he softly repeated the word, as if he were learning it for the first time. And with a wave of his hand, Joshua left, and as he ran across the street, she wondered why he wanted to have lunch with her tomorrow. Then she remembered.



They had the same lunch break on Wednesdays, at twelve-thirty in the afternoon. And they ate at the same cafeteria, a few tables away from each other.



Smiling now, Sarah entered her sister’s house, wishing that it were already Wednesday.



^xDeuteronomy 31:8 (New International Version)