Summer Rain

atleast a hunderd other palms pressed against the window glass.

 

 

 

 

Chapter (3):

Summer Rain

 

 

   At first glance I thought I'd overslept. Sunlight was subtle behind the blinds. And I never heard once the ear-damaging alarm.

 

The muffled buzz of a housefly was actually Endimon gargling in the washroom. There was a silence after the running water ceased, and then some tuneful, conceited mumbling.

He was probably flirting with the reflection in the mirror.

 

At what hour did he get back home last night anyway?

 

  The doorknob budged noisily, and I shut my eyes and snailed under the sheets lightening-quick. But what was the point? After he hurriedly rummaged through the drawers - probably for a pair of socks- I heard the window unlock and slide open. The magnified sound of the rain got on my nerves and I folded a side of the pillow against one ear.

 

My eyebrows slowly relaxed, but I three-fourth lost faith in returning to a peaceful sleep with him in the room.

 

"This kind of weather," he 'tsk'-ed and I frowned under the sheets, "A homeless man must have looked up at the sky this morning." He slightly laughed to himself.

 

"Shut up," my voice creaked, "Don't you have any respect for a sleeping person?" I rolled to the side facing the wall.

 

Please…just five more minutes.

 

"Get up, Albino." Something hit the edge of the bed.

 

"No…get out." This time he didn't miss; a pillow met the back of my head with a slight thud.

 

"You kickin' me out of my own room?" he picked up another pillow, "Get up, I said. It's one million a.m.", I sat up in bed before he could pitch it.

 

A light smell of buttered toast drifted in the air, "I'm hungry."

 

  A month and a week had passed since I moved to Cyan.

Still, the days seemed to circle only inside my head, while I stood on the same page.

 

  It was disappointing to learn that the calculus course had already begun in the last semester, so I had to catch up through an extra summer dose. Lessons one after the other sprouted easy and then branched into tangled twigs. Keeping a grip on my attention span was torture, and I ended up disliking the tutor despite his patience and openness to the student's inquiries.

 

For a minute, I stared in dry silence at the open cereal box on the glass table.

 

Was I that hungry, to imagine a fictional, non-existent smell of warm bread, or was there a second course hidden as a surprise for no particular reason?

 

"What did you expect? Caviar?" Demon called from the kitchen.

 

Nevermind.

 

"Endimon?"

 

"Yeah, Aaron?" I heard a clatter of plastic and glass, "And it's Demon, kid. For the 100^th time."

 

Why do they call you Demon? I almost spoke, but 'why is there no toast?' seemed like a more crucial question. I omitted both, and my lips folded into silence.

 

He whistled a strange tone as he collected a few bowls in the sink, squeezing a grimy, yellow sponge before cleaning dried grease on the counter by the oven.

 

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I only had a few bites before I followed my bowl with the other dishes. I used to like milk until I moved into this house.

 

"Nah," he said as he bent down to tie his shoelaces, "I quit. They don't deserve good workers like me or Sameer."

 

 Undervalued employee; Last time it was: hostile work environment.

 

Demon was fired almost on a weekly basis, and our poor fridge was the first to suffer the results.

 

  For a brief time, he had encouraged me to search for a part-time job to kill time in the remaining vacation, "Good experience." He would almost pat my back.

 

Despite my fragile confidence at handling customers at the diet clinic reception desk, there was this woman who earned me a kick right out.

 

After the third time she appeared at the front desk, late again, demanding to be let to see the dietitian on the account of other customers, I informed her that she was hopelessly too fat to fit into any nutrition program. And when I tried to sound neutrally fair it only made things worse.

 

Demon laughed as if I'd earned a trophy, and the therapists at the neighboring spa center found it amusingly courageous.

 

But I'm betting the adoption parents who threw me out for a biological child that the spa would never have considered hiring me even as a janitor to wipe the Turkish bath floorboards.

 

"Don't you have calculus class today?" He dusted the knees under worn out pale pants.

 

I glanced at the spotted window on my distant right, "Yeah-I'm probably skipping." I nodded lightly, wishing I could pretend to be eating cereal again, even with the bowl and spoon already in the sink, "Gah, You know, I hate the rain." I meekly finalized.

 

"That's not 'eh good enough reason, Aaron."

 

A sigh followed as I opened my umbrella towards the sleeping sun behind the puffs of grey.

 

Had there been no rain or gloom, Ms. Renaad would have called the day off since her son's health condition deteriorated by the day. He was not a patient of cancer or some other life-ending disease, but his immunity was as weak and unpredictable as that of a commercial, multicolored pet rabbit (1).

 

God, let it be shut down for good, I prayed. No, not really. Just for today.

 

Summer lessons took place in vacant reconstructed classrooms of my new high school building. The smell of fresh paint was stifling and the students in art class were so rowdy I could barely hear my own thoughts, or the sound of my conscience begging me to admit that staring harder at a vase will not help improve the actual sketching.

 

I don't know how to tell you this, but the problem was not simply with the proportions. The whole picture would come out ugly; shading, color-choice, and final touches. It was like deliberately resurrecting Frankenstein's little mistake.

 

I only had to take a peek into the space between the main doors next to the administration building before I jumped once pumping a fist and a 'Yes!', A paper hastily torn out of a wired notebook and slapped onto the glass read: 'Class Rescheduled due to dreadful weather.' Despite my gratitude to whoever posted it, the handwriting looked as dreadful as the weather; edged with anxiety and anger at the dried up pen.

 

In days where I had no excuse to be strolling outside class, I would congratulate myself for keeping a low profile through stillness and avoiding eye contact. My white hair and brows did not seem to be at odds with Jameel's speech impediment or Noora's oversized teeth braces. The latter being the only classmate with attempts to befriend me. Sometimes I was this close to scaring her away with an inappropriate remark, but I thought it would ruin the image of the white-haired, Asian sword master she had of me, which resembled a character in her favorite comic book.

 

I would very much have liked to avoid the walk beneath the 'shaa' and the 'drip-drip' but the last time I argued with Demon, he became a horrible person to talk to for hours after. And when I asked him for a ride on his way to his errands he laughed and turned away. A nearly a genuine laugh. I wasn't trying to be funny, though.

 

Two girls snickered and shouted on the opposite sidewalk. The one holding the camera felt bad for not capturing a clip of her friend falling over the slippery path in time.

 

A mother lifted up her child upon her shoulders so that his head touched the leaves of the glistening tree.

 

"It's like a jungle," she sang grinning as his little fingers met the twigs and branches, "We're in a jungle, aren't we?" Isn't she worried about him catching a cold in that jungle?

 

To my surprise, more townsfolk appeared in the open air; inside cars, on their feet, and many with no water-proof coats or umbrellas. They seemed to welcome the rain like it had not fallen in years.

 

"You can't go out and play." She pulled the glass frame down, and the sound of the sad sky became a whisper, "Children get sick in the rain."

 

Other than mine, at least a hundred other dirty palms pressed against the glass walls and watched the edges of the mud castle I built with other kids slowly exhale and melt away. Someone had also left a half-eaten sandwich by the blue slide.

 

I shook my head and the scrap of memories scattered onto the puddles of grey water.

 

The now of mine was different, I repeated the reminder. There was no Ms. Leen to shut any windows or keep me inside safe, dry walls. I was not in a foster home anymore.

 

Before I took a right turn back to the front door, I lowered the umbrella, flinching at the first few drops that spouted my forehead and arms; cold and unkind like blunted needles, then lukewarm and ticklish. It was much quieter, now that no drops hit the plastic roof of the umbrella. My shoulders slumped, I closed my eyes, and I lifted my chin up.

 

Where did this fear of the rain begin anyway? I wondered. This experience was not so bad after a--

 

"What are you doing?"

My eyes popped open,

 

"Hey, I'm talkin' to ya."

Crap…Wasn't he out just half an hour ago to meet a few friends?

 

"Get your a*s back inside." He motioned throwing one thumb behind his shoulder.

 

One minute he's dressed and out of the house, and another he's back into his boxers and tank top leaning behind half-open blinds with a tolerant frown, that's Demon for ya.

 

"What happened to calculus?" he threw a towel at me and briefly shook a finger, "And don't lie to me."

 

"It was cancelled. Honest."  

 

"And how do you spend your free time again? Getting caught in the rain?" Is he trying to pick a fight? A bit of drizzle in freaking July..

 

"No, I was- I'm not cold." A slight shiver ran beneath my skin and I barely held back a sneeze but it did not seem polite to dry my face and hair while the lecture was still running.

 

"Yeah, not yet. Wasn't that arrival fever enough for you? Why did you- You know we're tight on money, don't ya? I can't afford doctors or commercial pharmacy s**t."

 

"I know. I'm sorry." It wasn't a bitter pill to swallow until he was suddenly a few centimeters away, and his hands and the towel in my hair, "Do-No, Don't touch me!"

 

"Don't touch me, alright?" I repeated turning around towards the kitchen and then back to him by the hallway, "You can sermon me all you want, and you can even yell at me. Just don't touch me."

 

"No touching." he lifted surrender palms and stepped backwards as well, "Now go get changed before your nose starts runnin'."

 

"I don't- I-I don't even understand," If only I had quietly walked away to the bedroom, "why my parents would just toss me out into the custody of a strange black man."

 

"Oh," he crossed his arms, and his jaws tightened. Almost as if he had seen it coming, "so that's what this is all about, eh?"

 

"You didn't know? I hate black people. I hate this place. And-and I'm not dumb or dependent enough to plan on staying here after I graduate." 

What was wrong with me?

 

"Well," he breathed out after a pause, "this 'strange black man', whether you like it or not, is your guardian. And without my money or approval, your sorry a*s wouldn't even find a proper job to pay half of your college tuitions."

 

The whole portrait froze. I held a breath, stressing the regret of having spoken at all.

 

"I'm not forcing you to stay until the end of the year." His arm stretched to motion the black door, "Leave this moment if you wish. Or stay and learn. And listen to your own voice for once."

 

What did that even mean?

 

I turned around in defeat, the slightly open bedroom door like a gate for nightmares and counting countless sheep.

 

"Oh, and Aaron?" his voice toned down to a murmur. Colder. He would not finish his sentence until I had turned around to confront his eyes, "Wash the dishes you ate in."

 

Normally I would clean up after I'd eaten or cooked, without the need of commands but he had intended to confirm to me who was in control. And after the scene I've caused, I had no right to protest.

 

What an a*****e…

Author's Note

Share your thoughts with me. : ) Thanks for reading.

Reviews

[Astro]

I don't believe I read the other chapters, and can't say when I will because I don't read a lot of chapters or books, simply because of the time it takes away from my own creative process but you seem to have a good foundation. You're character's, Aaron in particular seems to be well developed when it comes to attitude, Demon less so, but I'm basing this on one chapter. You also have a excellent grasp of description with regards to action and scenery to make the story seem more solid. Apart from some grammatical errors and typo's it would seem that you have something strong to work with, the character's being little more than strangers and the idea of rain causing sickness are interesting concepts to explore. All in all Rain I think you are well on your way to writing an interesting story.

[TL Boehm]

Why do they call you Demon? I almost spoke, but 'why is there no toast?' seemed like a more crucial question. I omitted both, and my lips folded into silence.
Not sure why but I love this line. I think it speaks volumes about the character who is fully "in" the story - where the external reader would question a name - the character doesn't - gives authenticity to the story itself. Nicely done.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the complete chapter. Some history of the demon and the good discussion at the end. I like the decision to stay. Sometime harsh words are needed to keep us on the right path. Thank you for the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[StarNinja]

Demon has to be fudging his resume. No one would hire him with a job history like that! Anyway, on to reviewing. So Snowman's a racist, eh? I wonder if that's for real or if he's covering something up. Some feelings... The grammar in this chapter was pretty hit or miss. A summer "does" of calculus? Did you mean "dose"? Story is okay, but some parts confused me. Like Demon and his pillow throwing. I don't know many guys who throw pillows at other guys. It's not a very guy thing to do. And no I'm not saying that only adult heterosexual men are pillow throwing adverse, but guys in general. For a second, I honestly thought a pillow fight was going to break out. And I was like, whaaaaaaat..... But it didn't so yeah. And why did Aaron's parents send him to this guy? What's the point of being a guardian if you get fired every week from every job you take? That's not stable! That's not supportive! My guess is that the parents really don't like Aaron. Or maybe there are further details coming in future chapters. Keep up the good work!