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The tears of pouring rain had made the once bright and loud city slowly turn into a total disguise. Tall buildings disappeared behind the dark, heavy, and upsetting clouds; the shining spark of the streetlights blurred as the raindrops slowly ran through its glass, and the sound of overlapping conversations diminished and was replaced by the sound of droplets from the sky.
As the night grew darker, Miranda stood by the window, quiet and still, watching the rain fall through the dim, gloomy weather with the comforting scent of her freshly brewed coffee in her right hand. She took a sip, enough to feel the warmth through her body before placing it on the small table beside her. Miranda carefully reached for her soft, maroon robe and pulled the robe tighter, crossing her arms as she softly caressed the fabric. To her, sometimes comfort was hard to attain. Especially to her.
Earlier that day, Miranda arrived at her townhouse exhausted, carrying the weight of responsibilities and uncertainties.
Every day, every night, it was always the same routine: wake up at six in the morning, arrive at work before eight, endless meetings and revisions until six-thirty, and go back home at seven or eight.
But her day doesn’t end there, doesn’t always end there.
Right after dinner, she grabs her laptop once again to review the papers, making sure that no flaws could be seen throughout the thick, endless pages.
And then there were her twins— her lovely, beautiful twins whom she hardly got to spend time with. It wasn’t easy for Miranda to watch them grow without her near them oftentimes. Yes, she always spoiled her bobbseys too much, giving them both their wants and needs, but sometimes, the quantity of expensive and exclusive toys and books couldn’t outweigh the quality that a mother and daughter needed.
Her room was filled with complete silence, with only the sound of the television and loud yet calming droplets from the roof echoing through the low-lit room. The soft glow from the lamp barely reached each corner, while the grayish light of the night sky peeking through the window served as her guide.
Miranda glances at the clock as it reaches the new circle of time. Hearing the rain grow heavier and louder, Miranda scoffed and left out a small chuckle. Behind her, she noticed her yellow umbrella that she had used and mistakenly carried into her room earlier. And with that, she remembered Andy, who tends to complain about the rainy weather and how she hates getting her shoes and clothes wet.
But whenever she’s with Miranda, everything Andy despises slowly falls off just to make sure Miranda stays dry and secure.
She wondered: had Andrea remembered to bring her umbrella?
Probably not.
Hopefully not.
Miranda walked closer to the window, adjusting the jasmine-colored pleated curtain to the side as she looked down at the streets. She took a good look from the outside, silently watching every person passing by.
The rain became calmer and quieter, and the once dark, gloomy weather turned into a much softer shade of blue.
Has the color blue always shown the melancholy of life? She wondered.
Because throughout her life, living in such a hurried and impossible existence, there was no place for sadness. And yet somehow, the pouring rain she had always found to be a disturbance, became her quiet companion and comfort.
A minute later, the sound of the squeaking door echoed through the room. Miranda didn’t bother to look back, but a sigh of relief escaped as her shoulder calmly dropped. As the scent of vanilla and soft jasmine filled the room, Miranda’s eyes glistened, and a genuine smile slowly formed on her lips.
Andrea was home.
The brunette woman puts her bag down and gently placed her blue umbrella beside Miranda’s, which she, too, accidentally brought upstairs. Her hands were wrapped around the paper cup of coffee she carried, and the cold was still clinging to her even from the inside. Without a word, she noticed Miranda standing quietly by the window, and the moment she saw the older woman hugging herself with her arms, Andy knew.
Andy understood.
Each footsteps became louder and louder, but not in a way that would wake up the entire city, but loud enough to understand that the long-lost comfort Miranda had been looking for was here, in the same room, and sharing the same air.
Andy placed her coffee on the table in front of her, beside the black mug that Miranda left untouched moments ago.
Andrea, who was wearing a rather old, weary blue sweater, looked at the window, seeing the older woman’s reflection with her attention fixed on the soaked pavements. As the small drops dripped down from the window, the tall buildings reappeared from the dark clouds, and the streetlights glowed brighter from the streets, Andrea reached for Miranda and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I’m here,” said Andrea, softly burying her face against Miranda’s neck as she placed gentle kisses on her.
Miranda didn’t react or turn her attention toward the woman behind her. She simply closed her eyes and felt Andrea’s hand as she slowly, gently leaned her head back. She started swinging their bodies from side to side like how music slowly puts each piece together to form a sweet melody for them to hear.
The rain has always made the world feel blue— a melancholic feeling of loss, loneliness, and regrets.
By the time Miranda looked to her right, she noticed her coffee had gone cold. But beside it, however, placed a tall cup of coffee that was still warm, its steam rising and its aroma lingering in the air.
It wasn’t just two mugs placed next to each other, Miranda thought. It was how her cold loneliness had been joined by the warm comfort she’s been looking for.
Maybe that’s the blue meant for her now. Not sadness, not loneliness, not even the ache of the unsaid, but the warmth of presence and love.