Dare to make Rayne Fall

A young woman leaves home for a life on the streets and meets a beautiful stranger along the way.

 

I don’t know how I got to this point. Maybe the universe just hates me this much. Whatever it is I don’t really care anymore. I can see the signature red and blue lights flashing but I hear no sirens.
                No sirens.
                No wind.
                No waves.
                I hear nothing.
                I can’t even hear the silence coming from the spot my useless father should be standing, trying desperately to coax me down. That’s what any other father would do. Isn’t it? But instead of that he’s probably planted on our ugly brown leather couch, molded into the shape of his large sweaty backside over time, watching TV re-runs between giant gulps of flat beer. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be here, on this bridge, keeping policemen at bay by threatening to jump.
It’s all his fault.
He started it all.

*             *             *

I sat on the couch in my dingy living room. The stained brown rug covered most of the ugly plywood flooring. The once white walls were tainted beige from the stale air and layers upon layers of cigar smoke. The small television sat heavily on an old wooden stand that looked as if it would crack any second. The house looked cleaner than normal. The floor was swept and vacuumed. The overflowing pile of crushed, half empty beer cans had been cleaned up. The stacks of dirty dishes had been washed and put away.

It had taken me all day to get it so clean, and I had finally just sat down to rest and watch the last twenty minutes of The Facts of Life before I went to get ready for my job interview at Arby’s. In a drunken haze my father had called my former openly bisexual boss a ‘cross dressing, d*ckless, man-w***e with no life.’ My father couldn’t support himself let alone the both of us, and so I had dropped out of high school early to join the work force.

I was watching television for less than five minutes before my father walked in, the stench of liquor wafting into the house; no doubt from the flasks he hid on himself while he worked at his dead end job as a mechanic in a rundown garage off the beaten path. He kicked off his muddy boots and wiped the oil off his grubby face. His eyes sluggishly made their way to mine as he started up the stairs.

All would have been fine.
                The universe would have been balanced.
                But he couldn’t miss his chance.
                 Couldn’t skip one day of constant daily mental abuse.
                And so, as he looked upon me with fazed eyes, he inhaled slowly, and let out the most dissatisfied, uninterested, get-off-your-a*s-and-do-something-with-your-life-already sigh that I had ever heard in my life.

And I snapped.

“What?” I turned off the television set and faced him full on, my tone barely scratching the surface of the irritation I felt.
                He rolled his eyes, his head gently sloping with movement in his intoxicated state. “Nothin’ Roxanne. I’m goin’ to bed.”
                I stood and jerked forward threateningly as I yelled, “It’s always nothing! If there’s something you wanna say, dad, then say it!”
                He swerved, barely holding himself upright. His face twisted in anger. “Fine! You need to get off yer a*s n’ do somethin’. Look at this place! It’s a dump! You been home all day, how come it ain’t clean? What you been doin’ this whole time? Huh! I work all day n’ pay my way fer you n’ I, and this is the thanks I get?”
                I felt my breath stop short in my lungs at his accusation. “I need to do something? Me? I pay most of the rent! I pay the bills! I buy the groceries! You need to get your act together! You! Not me!”   “I’m yer father and you can’t talk t’ me like that! I am the man o’ this house!” He took a threatening step forward and glared through the drunken haze.
                “Then act like it! I support you and this house all by myself and what thanks do I get? Your lazy a*s telling me to get off mine!”
                “Then why don’t you jus’ leave?” He screamed.
                “Fine! I will!” 

*             *             *

That was it, what started me on this path. The path that led me to this…to him.

*             *             *

I sat under the freeway bridge, eight miles from my former home. The freezing rain bit through my clothes right into my skin. I was shivering badly, crouched with my knees to my chest and my arms clamped to my side in a futile attempt to find warmth. I was so numb that at first I didn’t feel it, but when I did I jumped. Someone put a jacket around my shoulders and sat back, waiting. I threw the jacket off and scurried away, pulling my soaked Ed Hardy backpack with me.

The person was a boy, not much older than me. His ear length black hair stood on end, messy and wet from the rain. His clothes were ratty but presentable, wouldn’t draw too much attention to himself walking through town. And his bright blue eyes shone under his bangs as he looked up at me amusedly. He crawled towards me and picked up the jacket I’d thrown off, holding it out to me. “If you keep shivering like that you’ll get hypothermia.”

“What do you care? You gonna loot me?” I clutched my bag protectively; it wasn’t much. A few changes of clothes and my entire pathetic attempt at a life savings, some soap and shampoo, a tooth brush, comb, and a handful of hair elastics were all I had.

He chuckled and sat back on his heels, bringing his knee up so he could rest an elbow on it. “No no, nothing like that. Just saw a newbie in need of some help and thought I’d offer my services.”

I pushed a stray clump of dripping brown hair out of my face and shook my head, “Yeah well, I don’t need your help. I’ll be just fine on my own, thanks.”

He nodded and back away, moving to an area where the gap was tall enough to stand in. He dusted off his jeans and pulled the hood of his sweater up over his head. “I completely understand; I was the same way. Now I have a place I stay at. Real nice one too, got a bed and all. But you know here’s good too, out in the open under the freeway. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He began to back away and flashed me a grin, “But if you did want my help, maybe get warmed up and rested, the offer still stands.” With that he turned, walking away without looking back.

I thought for a moment, looking at the space around me, oblivious cars driving by in the rain up above and down below. The ground was caked in mud and dirt, and I was shuddering in my cold wet clothes. I bit my lips nervously before pulling on the jacket that he had left on the ground in a crumpled heap, and slinging my backpack over my shoulders. “Wait!”

*             *             *

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone with him.

Maybe I should have stayed in my shabby cubby space under the freeway.

But I didn’t.

 

*             *             *

 

We walked for a good half hour in the rain, going into the shadier part of town. No words were said; the only noise to be heard was the water pounding on the pavement. All the time my eyes were on his back, watching as the rain soaked him to the bone and yet he hardly seemed to notice. He looked quite hansom under the city streetlights, each water droplet sparkling as they bounced off him. I was still wary of this beautiful stranger, but part of me didn’t want to be.

Before long we came to an old brick house on the corner of a street. It was three stories high, all the windows boarded up tight. The doorway was boarded up as well, rusty nails sticking out of the soggy wood. Our shoes sunk and squelched into the mud as we circled the building. In the cover of countless crooked trees I saw a single window on the first floor with enough boards ripped off to allow a person to climb through. He gave me a boost and helped me sneak safely through. I sighed as I waited for him to climb through behind me, happy to finally be out of the rain. I turned and jumped, seeing that a group of older men was looking out from the doorway of a nearby room. One of them, with a messy beard and a myriad of stains on his dirt tainted tank top, came out and took a step towards me. I backed against the wall, looking around for something to defend myself with. Suddenly a pair of muddy black boots emerged beside my head, followed by a cold wet hand clutching a gleaming silver pocket knife. “She’s with me, ain’t none o’ you gonna touch her. We clear?”

The dishevelled man took a step back and raised his hands in surrender before turning to walk back in the room, “Yeah kid,crystal. We don’t want no trouble.”

My beautiful stranger came to stand beside me and lowered the knife, “Then don’t go lookin’ for it. You know the rules: it ain’t yours you don’t touch it.” He put the blade away and held out a hand, guiding me through the old house, up two flights of stairs, and into the room at the far back. It wasn’t a pretty sight, dirty floorboards popping loose and the dull off-white paint chipping and peeling off the walls. Along the far wall a line of string ran across, tied around rusty nails hammered into the wall at either end. There was a small bed in the corner. The mattress was dingy and lumpy with no sheets on it, the only dressings on it were two large knit blankets, of all different colours. Beer bottles and candy wrappers littered the floor, but other than that the room was empty. He released my hand and stepped back. “Welcome to my humble abode. Don’t worry about those other guys, they won’t touch you so long as you’re here with me.” I nodded and slung my backpack off my shoulder. I stood silently, awkwardly rocking back and forth while shivering violently. He looked me up and down and flashed a thin lipped smile, “If you wanna change into something dry you can. Just hang the wet ones on the line over there. I’ll just wait outside till you’re done.”

I called him back in a few moments later, my voice barely over a whisper, but he heard it. He came back in and closed the door, taking in my new attire as I finished hanging my soaking clothes on the line across the wall. I was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeve white and black striped knit sweater. He smiled, “Well don’t you look cozy.”

I rolled my eyes, wringing out my hair before pulling it into a tight bun on top of my head. “Better than you.”

He flashed a grin and ran a hand through his wet hair, ruffling the raindrops out of his black locks. “I’ll say.” He bolted the door and walked over to the far wall, sliding down to sit with his back against it. He sighed, wiping his hand down his face. He turned his attention back to me and pursed his lips, “You gonna stand there all night?” I looked around for a moment trying to think of any reason not to sit with him. He smirked, “Are you afraid of me?”

My head snapped in his direction and I scowled. “Of course I’m not! What could I possibly have t’ be afraid of?” My voice, though trying to sound strong and convincing, rose in pitch as I spoke and I knew I wasn’t fooling him.

He reached a hand out for me, “Have a seat. C’mon I don’t bite.” He smiled teasingly, “Least not on the first date.” He winked at me and I laughed, shaking my head. I slid down the wall beside him and hugged my knees to my chest. He shifted to retrieve something from his back pocket. He opened a chocolate flavoured protein bar and broke it in half, handing one piece to me.

I hesitantly took a bite and made a face, “It tastes like a*s.”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah it does, but it’s better than nothin’ right?”

“I guess.” We ate in silence for a while. The only thing breaking the silence was the rain pouring down on the rooftop. A few times he glanced at me but remained silent. After I had finished my half of the bar I turned to him. “Y’know I really expected you to ask.”

He took his last bite and smiled, not looking at me. “Ask what?”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged, “I dunno. My name maybe?”

His head turned and our eyes met for a moment, a moment that felt much longer than it actually was, before he stood and tossed the wrapper into a large pile of trash in the corner. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.” He pulled the blankets neatly over the bare mattress, tucking in the corners as tightly as he could.

I stood and helped him, breaking the silence after a long while.“So...?”

He sat on the edge of the bed once we were done and smiled up at me, “Darien, but no one calls me that anymore. They just call me Dare now.”

He held a hand out and I shook it. “Well, Dare, my name’s Rayne. It’s nice to meet you.” I sat beside him and bit my lip, “And thank you, for helping me I mean.”

Dare shrugged and bumped into my shoulder, smiling, “It’s nothin’. Us street kids gotta stick together right?”

I smiled and nodded, “Right.”

 

*             *             *

 

Maybe I should have ran.

Waited till he was asleep and snuck out.

But I didn’t.

 

*             *             *

 

“Stop! Thief!” A sweaty hot dog vendor screamed from under his carts umbrella. Dare and I ran as fast as we could down the road towards an alleyway.

 I propped myself against the cold stone brick wall, laughing hysterically. “That was a close one huh Dare?”

Dare laughed with me, shaking rain from his messy hair, “Tell me about it.” He handed me my hot dog and we ate them in a bite and a half, letting the warmth fill our bellies. Our eyes met and I winked. He laughed, pulling me into his arms so suddenly I practically fell into them as he pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was as sweet as all the others. It was warm against the harsh cold of the rain, and gentle against the forceful reality of having to live on the streets, running. I pulled back after a moment and smiled, my fingers buried in his sopping black hair. I rested my head on his chest, letting my eyes close for a short time. “Hey Dare I’m tired. I think Imma head home ‘kay?”

He kissed the top of my head, burying his nose in my wet hair. “’Kay. I’ll see you later. I saw some things in a shop a few blocks back that I wanna get.”

I nodded and back away, walking in the direction of the old run down building he had first brought me to, little over a year ago. The worn wood and boarded up windows weren’t the most appealing sight but it was the one place I, and many other squatters, could call home. I climbed through the window at the back as usual and landed on my feet, brushing the water droplets off my jacket. From down the hall I heard a door open and a man walked out into the hallway. I smiled at him, despite our previous unsavoury encounters. “Evening Rick.”

He sneered in my direction and tipped an imaginary hat to me, “Evenin’ doll. Where’s yer boyfriend?”

I shrugged, “Out. I’m gettin’ some shut-eye. Goodnight.” I tried to move passed him to the stairwell but he blocked my path. I rolled my eyes. “Move Rick.”

“How long he gonna be gone?”

“I dunno, but you’re gonna be gone a real long time if you don’t move your a*s and let me by.” I looked him in the eyes, trying to show him how serious I was even though he stood a head taller than me and was built like a tank.

He shoved me up against the wall and stood straight, looming over me. “Is that a threat lil’ lady?”

“A warnin’, that’s all. You seen what happens when you mess with me honey. You really wanna go back down that road?”

He laughed, loud enough to wake the whole block. “You think you can beat me little girl? You’re man ain’t here to save you. Your a*s is mine!” He lunged forward, his lips crashing onto mine, his greasy tongue forcing its way into my mouth and making it taste like cheap cigars. I tried to push him away but he was too strong.

 

*             *             *

 

If only Dare hadn’t climbed through the window at that moment. If he had stayed out a little longer it would have been over and he wouldn’t be full of holes, floating in a sea of his own blood. The knife had come out of nowhere and suddenly everything was red and Rick was running.

 

And now I’m here. The policemen are screaming at me to come down.
Come down off the bridge.
You don’t have to jump.
There’s more to life than this.

But there’s not.

 

I turn, looking to face all the flashing lights and worried civilians. They don’t really care. The people are there for something to watch. The policemen are trying to avoid paperwork and bad press. The only honest one I can see is my dad. I can see him in my head, sitting on the couch, drinking a beer. He honestly doesn’t give a s**t.

Neither should I.

I clutch Dare’s jacket, the one I ripped off his bleeding corpse, tighter around me, and looked to the sky. “I’m coming for you baby.” I lean my head back and just let myself go.

My legs crumple beneath me and I disappear into the blackness bellow.

I’m falling.

I’m free.

Free as the rain.