Only the Rain
By
sHaYcH
“You’re
so beautiful,” rolls
off my tongue and spatters the table in front of me.
I am not used to such speechlessness when it comes to
conversing
with my peers. Not
I, Kerry Weaver, who
can send third year residents fleeing from the sharp side of my tongue. Yet here I was, seated
across from the woman
who made me feel like a teenager – a gawky, never before been out of
the
wheelchair teenager, at that. How
does
one defend against someone whose only offense is a smile?
“Kerry,
it’s all right. I-I’m
just not usually so off in my
judgment,” Kim says to me in a flustered tone, hands fluttering like
birds around
her embarrassed face. The
waiter comes
and takes the check, returns for her signature, then hands her a
receipt. She smiles
at him, tucking the slip of paper
into her purse. “I
guess I’ll see you
at work then,” she says with forced cheerfulness, breaking me out of
the haze
of her eyes.
“Yeah,
work,” I mumble,
reaching for my crutch – both my shame and my strength now, for I know
I could
not stand without it tonight. The
wine,
the words and her smile have done their magic, undoing whatever balance
I might
have once had. Slowly,
I hobble toward
the door, not relishing a walk back to the hospital for my car, but
knowing I
would hate riding the El in the morning.
“Can
I give you a ride back
to your car,” she asks softly, brushing her hand against my shoulder
lightly.
I
turn and glance up into
earnest blue eyes. “Yeah,
sure, I’d
like that,” I say, almost sighing in relief when my voice doesn’t break.
She
smiles again. “Good. No
one should have to be out in this.”
She wraps a long navy blue scarf around her
neck and hefts a bright yellow umbrella.
“I’m just over there.” She
nods
toward a dark green SUV parked alongside the street.
I
push open the heavy door
and she exits, opens the umbrella then turns to take the door from me. Together, we slowly make
our way to her
car. The rain falls
so hard that it
splashes up to our knees, dancing over the street like invisible elves.
Kim
unlocks her door then
leads me around to the passenger side holding the umbrella as I get in,
pulling
my crutch in after me.
“All
secure?” she asks as I
fumble for the seatbelt.
“Yes,
thank you,” I say,
smiling slightly as I pull the webbing of the belt over my shoulder and
waist. Kim grins
and shuts the
door. The car is a
nice one, with
leather interior and a state of the art CD system.
A reflection of its driver, I think,
noting the softness
of the seats. Comforting
and warm,
I mentally add, as I tip my head back briefly and allow some of the
confusion
and weariness I feel to show on my face.
Kim’s
door opens and she
climbs in, stowing her umbrella in the backseat, dropping it
haphazardly on the
floor behind her seat. Her
door shuts
with a soft bang, then her seat belt clicks shut with a loud snick. Her movements are easy,
unhindered by pain
or uncertainty. She
knows that she
won’t fall with her next step, physical or verbal.
I, on the other hand, know that the next thing I say could
cause
me to stumble as easily as if my crutch slipped.
“Nice
car.” I settle on,
hoping it’s neutral enough
territory.
“Thanks. It’s not my first choice,
but it works well
enough,” she replies, tossing her head back to shake the hair from her
eyes. “You’re at
the hospital, right?”
“Yes. Lot B,” I say, controlling
the impulse to
point.
“Okay,
here we go,” she replies
lightly, starting the engine and pulling away from the curb. She drives energetically,
tapping her
fingers on the steering wheel, bouncing her head to the music emitting
softly
from the speakers. It’s
nice music, too
- like everything else about this womann - soft, yet bouncy and alive.
She
turns and glances at
me. “Kerry, I
really want to apologize
for earlier. I
didn’t mean to make you
feel uncomfortable.”
“No,
it’s okay,” I mutter,
feeling relief crawl through me. “I-I
reacted badly, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m
surprised that you’ve
never had a woman hit on you before,” she quips, smiling mischievously. “You’re quite a cutie, you
know.”
My
cheeks burn and I turn to
stare out the window. “Th-thanks,”
I mumble,
squeezing the solid rubber of my crutch grip nervously.
“Kerry?”
Kim says
tentatively, and I feel her hand slide over mine.
Slowly, I turn to look at her.
Her eyes are on the road, but her smile is for me.
“You
make me feel so young,”
I stammer out uncontrollably. “I
am a
mature woman, I should be able to know these things about myself. But you change everything.” I know that I shouldn’t be
saying this; not
to her, and not now, but I can’t stop myself.
She’s awakened something that is unstoppable within me. Her gaze slides
over and connects with
mine. She turns the
wheel and the car
comes to a stop alongside my own.
“Is
there something wrong
with that change?” she asks softly, not taking her hand from mine. I weave our
fingers together, stroking the
tips of my calloused fingers over her soft ones.
“Yes. No.
I don’t know…” I murmur, drifting off as she leans close
to me. Her
lips brush over mine, just the lightest
of touches, but so profound that my heart stops.
“Call
me for a consult, Dr.
Weaver,” she whispers into my ear, caressing it with her words, “when
you
know.”
I
open the door and tumble
out, my crutch useless because I am floating, not walking. Out of the corner of my
eye, I see four
buses pull up to the ER doors and a part of me is curious, I turn my
head to
see what the night has brought to my second home.
The curiosity does not last. It’s just another MVA,
because of
the rain. People
really should be
more careful, I think, and turn back to say goodnight to Kim. But she’s gone. Only rain fills the space
beside me. Only
rain, and a longing that I do not understand is left.
As my hand brushes against my door handle, I
hear a slight noise, and I look back at that empty space behind me. But it’s only the rain.
fin
Revised
09/25/02