The rain patters loudly against the small window of my bedroom. It’s been raining like this for the past four days now. My legs twitch, I need a run. Instead I put on a water-proof jacket, leave my glasses behind and proceed to leave the house with just my phone and ipod safely zipped in my pocket.
I take my mothers pink umbrella for display purposes and am soaked within three minutes of setting foot outside.
The music is loud enough to drown out the sound of my thoughts until I reach my destination. This routine is not new for me. The dark isn’t as bad as I had worried it might be. Between the street lamps and their reflection off the dense fog I’m in pretty good shape. I sit my soggy self down and stare out past the tire swing.
Images from the past flash past my eyes triggering a sharp pain in the back of my head.
Great, a migraine, just what I need.
Rain soaks through every layer I’m wearing. Water soaks my hair and begins to drip into my eyes.
I don’t know how long I sit there. I loose track of time.
Seconds? Minutes? Definitely not hours. Of this I am sure.
“For someone with an immune system such as yours, sitting out here seems a bit unwise don’t you think? Perhaps a bit foolish?”
His voice saturates me more than the rainwater I have accumulated. I am so used to hearing his voice only in my own head that it takes me a moment to realize that I am not alone out here ...
He is here, standing beside me.I pull out my headphones and let them dangle at my side. I stare ahead at the fog as if it has an answer for what the hell is going on here.
The graveyard is quiet under the blanket of thick fog. A graveyard next to a playground never made much sense to me. It kind of creeps me out.
I’m frozen where I sit. It’s been years since I’ve looked at the boy behind me. He is a man now. Someone I don’t know. The last time I saw him was right here in this very park.
I clench my fists—my nails make crescents in my damp palms.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, these are the only words I can form through my chattering teeth.
It’s not fear of him that makes me freeze.
It’s fear that if I move in just the slightest movement I will turn to see no one. And this will all be another one of those delusions I have from time to time.
“I should ask you the same question.”
His voice is like velvet but smoother. It’s like a big dry towel warm from the dryer placed over my shoulders as I begin to shake from the damp cold.
“It’s ... complicated.” I breathe, and taste rain on my chapped lips.
He doesn’t move but I know he’s there. After all this time I can still sense when he’s close. The air between us crackles and pops with energy, static: that we give off by being near each other.
This has happened before.
I stare ahead with my new breath and stand up. My sneakers make a weird squishing noise when I turn to face him. I push the wet hair out of my face.
I was so sure.
The foggy night so long ago, tears welled up in my eyes, lunch short of breath, heart racing, heart breaking ...
I had been so sure.
I had been positive that I would never see him again. Yet there he stood. Almost exactly as I had remembered him. His green eyes made my toes go numb, as they always had. Dressed in black dress pants and a worn black tee shirt with red writing on it. His hair was short but long in front. He didn’t smile, he just stared.
