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Can’t Stand the Rain
I hadn’t heard from Annika for days.
This was one of those times I was glad to have keys to each other’s places. I was the closest thing to a sister she had; closest thing to family she had now, given everything.
Turning the key in the lock of her front door, I open it slowly.
“Nik?!” Stepping through the doorjamb, my heart breaks in half.
The double sink is piled full of dirty dishes that have begun to spill over into stacks on the countertops. The trash bin on one side of the kitchen is in dire need of being emptied.
Annika’s cat, Boomer, yowls at me long and loud from his position on the dining table. It’s surprising he’s even found a spot, given that it’s also riddled with clutter. Pictures of Annika and Kai from years ago are scattered everywhere. She must have been looking through boxes of them again.
I move closer, careful to step over clutter on the floor in the process and lightly scratch Boomer’s chin. My fingers rest on the mark there that I’ve always joked looked like a semicolon.
“Hey, Booms,” I coo. “Are you hungry?” My eyes dart around the space in search of a food bowl, but all I see are sets with dried out wet cat food caked on the sides amidst the mess on the countertops.
Boomer narrows his eyes at me so that they are almost slits.
No shit I’m hungry, they seem to say.
“When was the last time you ate, boy?” I look at him sadly and he does that pitiful yowl again.
Too long ago, obviously.
Moving to the cupboards, I find a dish that will suffice as a dinner bowl, pour in some dry kibble, place it in front of him and go in search of his mother.
“Nik?!” Standing in front of the door to her bedroom, I tap my knuckles against it, softly at first. “It’s Tania.”
Silence.
I tap harder. “Nik?!”
“It’s open,” she croaks from the other side.
Stepping inside, I’m enveloped in darkness. The blinds and curtains are both shut as tightly as they can be, with Annika buried in blankets, a lifeless lump in the middle of the bed.
“Get up,” I command, hitting the light switch on the wall nearest me with more force than I’d meant to.
"Hmmmmph,” Annika groans incoherently, trying her hardest to block out the bright light newly assaulting her. “No.”
“Yes,” I counter. “I’m not giving you a choice.”
The curtains are covered in dust, and I downplay a coughing fit as I pull them apart. I leave the slats of the blinds shut, but tug the pull cord to raise them so the window is exposed, despite the sun having set hours prior.
Annika reluctantly leaves her self made burrow under the comforter, raising up in bed, perching disoriented on its edge. “What are you doing here, Tan?”
“What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t here?” I retort. “By the looks of things, it’s good I came.”
She runs her fingers haphazardly — self consciously — through her hair. Already naturally curly, it was riddled with innumerable knots.
“Why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls?”
“What’s it to you?” She spits defensively.
I step back a few paces, as though I’ve been hit in the chest. “You’re seriously asking me that right now?”
“Yeah. Why does it even matter what happens to me anymore?”
My face falls, and I stand surrounded by the barely audible sounds of my own breath. Kai had been gone less than a year. Maybe I should have anticipated this response; should have made more effort to check Annika really was okay. She had seemed — for all intents and purposes — to be doing well. Showing up to work, being the same overachiever she always had, and with a smile on her face. There were days she’d sneak into the empty break room or an unoccupied bathroom stall and cry, and I’d followed her, but she’d wave me off, insisting she was fine.
“Honey,” I say softly, slowly sitting down next to her atop the mattress. “Of course it matters. When was the last time you took a shower?”
My eyes roam over her rumpled pajamas, land again on her disheveled hair, though they’re soft and imploring rather than harsh and judgmental.
“I don’t remember.” Annika buries her face in her hands, ashamed, only peering at me through the spaces between her fingers.
“Do you remember the last time you fed Boomer?” I ask gently. “He was protesting pretty loudly when I got here.”
“Oh, God, Boomer!” Annika shrieks. “He’s gonna hate me.” Her eyes start to well up with tears. “I’m such a terrible person. Maybe you should take him.”
“Me?” I ask incredulously. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because Annika,” I say sternly, matter-of-factly, “I already have three dogs, for one. They’d probably terrify him to death. And two, you’ve lost so much already, I’m not taking your cat. He loves you. Animals are more forgiving than you're giving him credit for right now.”
“But I let him starve.”
“Not on purpose,” I soothe, resting my hand on her knee. “And not for very long. He still looks okay, just a little miffed. Cats are pretty resilient creatures. Many of them go through a lot worse in the streets. I fed him when I first got here.”
Annika stands up, turning to face me. “Thank you,” she chokes out. “Truly. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
"Ah, you're forgiven,” I wave a hand through the empty air dismissively.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” she half smiles at me before making her way to the ensuite bathroom.
*~*
“You didn’t have to do that.” Annika’s voice gives me a slight jump scare from my position at the sink, but I don’t turn to her.
“Yes, I did,” I answer, scrubbing the baked on, dried out crud from the bottom of a pot with an SOS pad. I give it another partial rinse and leave it to soak for a few minutes before turning to face her.
“You look nice,” I smile appreciatively, giving her a once over.
“Really? Thanks. Nothing special, just a sweater with a cowl neck and some jeans,” Annika shrugs. “My hair took the longest to fix. Those knots were terrible.”
Boomer darts between Annika’s legs, trilling as he rubs himself all over them.
“See? He forgives you.”
“I hope so,” she crouches down, kissing the top of his head. “My sweet little baby,” she coos. “I’m so sorry.”
He looks intently at her.
“It’s a good thing Auntie Tania came to the rescue, huh?”
She stands up. “You’ve done enough. You can go.”
“No, you’re coming with me,” I say. “Get a jacket.”
*~*
The sky is so pretty,” Annika muses, dragging her feet absentmindedly over the stones beneath the swing set where we each took up post. “Even when it’s broody and not perfectly clear.”
I’m stock still, while she sways ever so slightly.
“Yeah,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper.
She pulls a small flask from her jacket.
“I didn’t see you get that before we left.”
“I snuck it into my pocket while you were in the bathroom,” she grins.
“Figures,” I laugh in spite of myself. “What’s in it?”
“See for yourself.” She digs her feet into the stones beneath her to stop swaying, stretches her arm out to me. “Or are you too much of a chicken shit?”
“Give me that,” I scoff, retrieving it hastily from her outstretched hand. She tries not to bust out laughing as she watches my face contort.
“Jesus, that’s vile,” I cough as vodka burns my throat. “I never understood how you drank that shit straight.”
“I quit for a while. Then everything with Kai happened, and I kind of stopped giving a fuck.”
“Nik, you can say he died, ‘y’know.”
“No, I can’t,” she says, trying and failing to disguise the crack in her voice. “It tastes like poison.”
“I know,” I whisper, at a loss.
“I keep waiting for him to come back.” She averts her gaze, burning a hole into the thigh of her jeans. “Like that fight we had in college. You remember that?”
“How could I forget?”
*~*
"You threw your straightener at him?!” Tania shrieks at me from her place across our shared living room. She’s sitting cross legged on a bean bag, pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia in one hand, spoon hanging midair in the opposite.
“Not my finest moment,” I answer, moving to retrieve my own spoon before sitting next to her.
“Annika!” Tania shrieks again, “it wasn’t hot, was it?”
She hands me the container of ice cream. “No,” I gasp, glancing at her, horrified, before tucking in. “God, I’m not a monster.”
“Maybe things are more innocent than they seemed, Nik.”
“You were with me when we saw him with that girl,” I counter defensively. “Kissing other people besides the one you’re dating is considered innocent now, is it?”
“Come on,” Tania says. “You know that’s not what I meant. But maybe it wasn’t exactly what it looked like. Maybe there’s an explanation.”
“It looked like he was sucking someone else’s face, when I’ve been begging him for his time, attention, and affection for months! Whose side are you on, exactly?!”
“I’m not taking sides,” Tania says, far more calmly than I believe is natural for anyone to be. “We all share this house, and I’ve seen the way Kai looks at you.”
I stand up slowly, making my way to the living room window. “It’s really coming down in sheets out there,” I muse softly, taking in the storm. “Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown him out. You know I can’t stand the rain.”
“He’ll be fine,” Tania assures me. “He’s a good driver.”
She makes her way over to me, situates herself behind. As if to drive home her point, she squeezes my shoulder.
“He’ll come back.”
*~*
“You were right,” Annika slurs, slightly drunk from the passing of the flask of vodka back and forth between us. “He came back, and it wasn’t at all what it seemed like.”
“I knew he loved you more than anything. Everyone could see it.”
“I was so worried he’d get into an accident that night,” Annika recalls. “Seems like some cruel joke that a freak accident at work would be the thing that came between us for good all these years later.”
“I know, honey. It’s not fair. He should still be here.”
“Are we out of vodka?” She asks me.
I tip the flask upside down and shake it. “Yup.”
“Damn it,” she says, then hiccups.
Silence falls over us for a while, and I wrap my arms around myself. The chill of the night has managed to cut through my jacket.
“You know I was pregnant?” Annika’s voice cuts through the night air, and my head snaps up, my eyes meeting hers.
“What?” I question, shocked.
“We hadn’t told anyone. Didn’t want to do it too early.”
“You found out… before….” I sputter, at a loss for words.
Annika seems to sense this, and simply nods. “Everything happened,” she exhales, trying to steady herself and her emotions. “I miscarried.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know how,” Annika tells me earnestly. “My world as I knew it was shattered in so many ways. You had your own life. I know you always say we’re family, but I can’t put everything wrong in my life onto you just because I have no real family of my own. I figured these were my crosses to bear.”
“You never have to bear anything like that alone as long as I’m on this earth,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” she says softly, taking it and squeezing back.
“It was raining,” she tells me suddenly.
I cock my head, confused. “When?”
“When I miscarried,” she clarifies. “It started that morning. I should’ve known.”
“You couldn’t have known, Annika. It’s nothing you did.”
She looks up at the sky. Possibly in an effort to disguise the emotions playing across her face from me. I can’t tell.
“We should get back. Looks like it’s gonna start doing it again.”
I raise up off my swing. “Let’s go. And Annika?”
“Yeah?” She moves to stand too, looks at me.
“I’m gonna stay with you for a while,” I state, not giving her a choice in the matter. I was determined to help my friend — my family — find her way out of the rain.
“I’d like that, she smiles, linking her arm in mine for the trek back.