When It Rains It Pours

A Father facing his son's death

It's going to rain. Charlie hates the rain. Mr. Steals stood at the bus stop oblivious to the people around him. So many voices with no regard to a man's broken heart. It's hard to breath when the weight of the world lays heavy on one's chest. In one hand he was still holding the phone, waiting for it to ring with someone on the other line telling him it was a mistake. Over his shoulder, he carried a bag with new clothes. Warmer clothes, for Charlie. He is going to need new clothes to come home in. From memories to reality, there was no escaping the feeling of loss.

Not expecting the down pore. Mr. Steals pulls the coat from his bag that was meant for Charlie. He could smell Charlie's Axe. As much as he hated the smell, he loved that it was the closest thing to his son as he could get right now.  Dam Axe, why do they have to wear so much of it?

The rain starts to fall and he takes his glasses off wiping his eyes from the rain drops or the tear drops, he wasn't sure. No, it was raindrops for sure. He couldn't cry for something that can't be real. They said he could see him. So he must be okay.
As he sat on the bus he thought of Charlie and his new friends. He was happy. Happy to be in school again. Since the move, he wasn't sure how Charlie would make out, but he seemed to be okay. Nothing out of the normal. He was a good kid. I should have taken the car. This is taking way too long.

Sirens, there are so many sirens. Vehicles passing the bus in such a hurry. For what? Mr. Steals tried to wipe the fog off the windows but even then the rain pearled and trickled making it hard to see on the other side. Traffic officers in the middle of the road stopping traffic.

“Let me off here please.”

“Sorry sir, this isn't a bus stop. You will have to take a seat until we reach the next stop.”

“Look at me. Do I look like a man who is willing to sit back down? Do you see what is going on out there? Right. I didn't think so. Let me off now!”

“Sir, there is too many cars. I can't just let you off here in the middle of the road. Besides there is a crime scene here.”

“Okay, let's try this again.” He was losing patience and held his breath staring at the driver trying one more time. “Open the door, and I am only going to ask you one more time nicely.”

The bus driver looked at him and questioned what on earth this guy was so messed up about. Wanting no further trouble, he opened the door.

Mr. Steals stepped off and just stood there in the middle of the road in the pouring rain. It didn't smell like rain, it smelt like death. Does death have a smell? Police officers directing traffic, other officers taping off a crime scene.

Hmm, looks bad. Why all the people standing around? It's not a circus dam it! Strangers getting off on someone's tragedy. Pathetic!

Mr. Steals ran his hand through his wet hair, trying to gain the strength to figure out where Charlie was. There are still bodies on the road in body bags. Lot's of blood, and little markers all over the place. He tried to find every excuse to take his time. Three ambulances parked with sirens going. Scanning the scene, he saw a coroner officer. That is when his heart wanted to stop. His clothes are wet and now sweaty. So far three bodies were being taken away.

“Hey, sir? Are you okay?”

“Nope, pretty sure I am not okay.”

“Well this is not place for anyone to rest sir. You might want to back off a little. We have a bad situation here.”

“I know.” His head between his knees and wanting to vomit. Mr. Steals couldn't gain the strength to move. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Can I see my son right now? Or will he be taken to the hospital?”

“Your son sir? Was he here?”

“Yeah, I received a call earlier. I came as fast as I could. I took the bus, I didn't think it was a good idea to drive, you know.”

“Okay, um, let me go and get someone that can assist you.”

Mr. Steals lifts his head and everything was fuzzy. He tried to focus on people, things, signs of Charlie. His mind couldn't let him think about him being dead. Blocking it out is the best, hanging on to the thread of hope that he survived. Some how, he would be okay.

“Hello? I hear you received a call today about your son?”

The rain was slowing down and Mr. Steals slowly looked up and met the face of an older gentleman. A police officer but of higher rank it seemed.

“Yes, my son Charlie. Charlie Steals? He must be at the hospital. I don't see him here.”

“Listen, sir. Why don't you come with me and I can take you to the hospital myself. It's raining and I am sure you don't want to be sitting here on the ground.”

“I have his things. He will probably need some clean clothes.”

“Sure. We will worry about that later, but for now I think it's best you come with me.”
He helped Mr. Steals up and guided him to his car.

Steals couldn't help but glance over the ground. The scene, a battle ground of sorts. Blood pooling from the rain, trickling through the cracks of the pavement. A running shoe just laying there on the side of the road. I wonder where the other shoe is?
He tried to glance in the ambulances but the doors were already closed. As he turned to pay attention to where he was going he passed by another police car and noticed a man sitting in the back seat.

“Who is that guy? Is he okay?” A way of staying in the immediate situation and not letting his mind go crazy with reality.

“Yeah he is okay. Don't worry about him.”

The man in the car, stared at Mr. Steals as he walked by. It was like slow motion from both sides as their eyes locked.

Hours later at the hospital, someone poked Steals in the shoulder. “Hey, are you here for your son?”

“Yes, yes I am. Is he okay?”

“Did nobody tell you sir, he is here at the coroners office. You need to identify his body.”

Mr. Steals just complied. He had no words. What does one say to that anyway.
“Now I have to tell you that this is alarming and if you can't do it. We can wait. Is there anyone here with you?”


“No, just me?”

“His mother?”

“His mother passed away, a few months ago.”

Oh dam it! This poor man. How is he going to handle this one?
“Okay sir. I am right here okay.”

He pulled the light cotton cloth away from Charlie's face exposing him to the strong lighting in a steel sterile room. He skin drained from blood loss, his lips cracked open. His eyes closed and his hair sticky with blood.

“Oh Charlie.” Mr. Steal's heart broke open, his tears and cries of a torn man. He turned to the coroner, “I thought he would be okay. You know? I just couldn't believe that he would be taken from me. I have nothing left.”

Within seconds his body fell to the floor. The coroner got on the phone, “Send a gurney down here stat. We have a code blue.”


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