And the Rain Came Down

Rain. It ran down the window in miniature streams, leaving streaks through the summer dust. Beads of water raced towards the sill, and I heard the steady ‘thrum,’ of the storm pound on the roof. I blinked a few times, trying to stay awake, my mind trying to shut down. My eyes followed the rain. He still wasn’t back even though he said he would be no later than ten. It was midnight as I stared at the torrential downpour. A crack of thunder and a flash of lighting illuminated the pane and I saw him drive in, the garage door closing behind him. I relaxed on the sofa and closed my eyes, ears working double-time to see what his excuse would be to me. He would probably blame it on the storm.
“Why are you late?” I asked, yawning widely.
He turned to me in surprise – he had been trying to sneak away without waking me. He should have known better. “Did I wake you?” the concern in his voice sounded forced, the tone piercing my shell of sleepiness.
“Why are you late?” He could try to side-tack me all he wanted. I would not be deterred. Not this time.
He heaved a little sigh and fixed me with those eyes – those coffee brown eyes that had caught me to begin with. “I had to park far away, I got out of here late.” He was accusing me of making him late. I suppressed a disbelieving snort; he had been the one with his tongue down my throat. Not that I minded, of course. “The concert ran late and the storm started as I was trying to get back to the car.” The storm had started not five minutes after he left. The sounds of rain pounded in rhythm with my tapping fingers. “I got stuck in a jam where there wasn’t any power in the traffic lights, and”
I placed one of my fingers over his lips, silencing him. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” He started to protest – he wanted to tell me the rest of his elaborately fabricated story. “If you look closely there is a red stain on your shirt that explains it all.” The sounds of the storm echoed in the quiet that followed.
“Red?” he asked. “It must be yours.” He just kept digging his grave deeper and deeper.
“I don’t wear red lipstick.” I said softly.
“Yes you do. You’re wearing some now.” He sounded triumphant.
“That would be maroon.” It was as if my words were a needle that punctured his balloon.
“Maroon is red.” I rolled my eyes. He had been with me for two years, and, despite my best efforts, apparently STILL didn’t know the difference between maroon and red.
“No.” An idea sparked in my brain and I rose, standing on my tiptoes to reach his collar. “What you have on your left lapel is red.” I indicated the stain already there. “What you are about to have on your right lapel is maroon.” I planted a kiss on his lapel, leaving a suitable lip-print in dark lipstick on his starched collar. I sat back down and stared out at the storm.
“One of the girls at the concert got a little excited, that’s all.”
I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He nodded convincingly. “Really.”
My questioning look hardened into and icy glare that I focused out the window at the thundering storm. “Button your fly, excited-boy.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance down and comply.
“Sorry, must have happened when I went after the concert.”
I looked at him incredulously. “You just forgot?” I shook my head. “I refuse to believe it.”
“Then you’re refusing to believe the truth.” He fired back.
It was too fast a recovery for him. “How long have you been planning this?”
“About three months.” He answered unthinkingly. My heart sank, following the trails of raindrops on the window. For three months he had been scheming.
“Why?”
He recovered from his momentary lapse. “I already told you why I was late, Babe.”
I stared at him impassively. “Why?” Refusing to answer he sat beside me and gazed out the window into the rain. “Why?” He tried to fold me into his arms, but I shoved him away.
“Why do you push me away?” he sounded so innocent. I had never fully trusted that voice, I would not trust it now.
I counted his question with one of my own. “Why won’t you answer my question?”
“Which one?”
“So you admit to lying.” He had done nothing of the sort, but he had fallen for stupider tricks in the past.
He thought for a moment. “Only once.”
“When?” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.
“When I said ‘I love you’.” The knife twisted deep into my heart, wrenching at my emotions. I held back tears as the rain began to fall harder outside.
“Why then?” I asked softly. “Why string it out so long?” Unspoken was my true question: ‘Why string me along to so long?’.
He grinned, that crazy, attractive grin with the perfect white teeth. “Do you know Tommy Bradshaw?” I nodded, Tommy had been dating one of my sisters for a few years. “he and I had this little bet going.” My heart clenched into a knot and I tried to brace myself for the worst. What came was even crueler than what I was prepared for, even more…Tommy. “I told him that I could get into you pants faster than he could seduce one of your twins.” I glared as lightning highlighted his cinnamon hair. “Last night Tommy won the bet. So there is no more need for you.” he said spitefully.
“And the lipstick?” I asked.
“Is from your other twin, the one not with Tommy.” He grinned again. “I always knew she liked me.” He was just rubbing salt into the open wounds.
“She’s only in it for your money.” I said; all love between myself and my sisters had been lost long ago.
He turned another award-winning smile at me. “That and my roguish good looks.” I growled and traced a spider web of water-marks down the window.
“She’ll just leave you broke.” I didn’t know why I was even bothering to warn him. It wasn’t like he was going to follow my advice. He rose from the sofa.
“Hey, babe,” He still had the nerve to call me ‘Babe’. “I just realized something.”
“What, that you’re a total jerk?” He couldn’t have missed the biting sarcasm in my voice and he flinched.
“No.” He trailed a finger down my cheek to my lips. I bit him and drew blood; he pulled back quickly. “I realized that you’re a sheltered, innocent, naïve fool.” He flung the words ate me, each one burning itself into my mind as he stared hatefully.
“All a bet with Tommy?”
“Yeah.” He sneered. “All a bet with Tommy.” He moved towards me once more and backhanded me sharply. “You’re more like your sister than you think.”
He walked out the door into the garage, and pulled out, closing the door behind him. Lightning flashed and I watched him leave through the rain-speckled window, the clock reflected in the pane. A quarter past midnight. I curled up into a ball on the couch, my cheek stinging from his hand. I drew shaky breaths; silent sobs shook my shoulders as tears ran down my face in miniature streams, leaving streaks through my light makeup. I listened to the steady ‘thrum’ of the rain as it pounded against the roof. Rain. Tears.

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Alright, um... this story is a little bit different for me (my larger ones i post on FictionPress.net und the penname Never After) and i'm not really sure what i think of it. So let me know what YOU think. gratzi.

~Tiny Dancer~