A Little Rain

by Dee Winter

When I open my eyes again my phone tells me it’s almost the afternoon. I smile and pull back my arms hard and hear things click. I feel rested and good and momentarily content before the unhappy memories of last night flood back. The argument. The elbow. The oh-so-close call. The wait. I have never felt so lonely. But I don’t feel sad now, because I think of my brother and know that I will never really be alone. He’s not like a friend I’ve made, and obviously not like a boyfriend but he will be there for me, always. I know that and feel safe. Today is another day. Something new. Don’t look back. Learn. Move on. I feel like getting drunk. Float my joys. An empty Sunday lies ahead, fresh like a garden of long untrodden grass. Such a blissful feeling and soon the pubs will be open. I just hope Rob might still be in so we can go together. He is. Now at his door, I hear him snoring in his room. I put the kettle on to make hot drinks, tea for Rob, coffee for me. A little hungry now, I think with deep regret about all that nice shopping I bought and took back to Benny’s yesterday. I silently curse to myself why I bothered to even go out and buy anything at all. Benny and his mob have probably eaten it all by now, but at least I don’t have to see him eating it. That would be worse. I leave Rob’s mug on the mantelpiece and I go and get in the shower. Half an hour later I’m washed, made up and dressed for comfort in black jeans, red v-neck sweater and burger splattered boots, now wiped. I can hear Rob now shuffling in his bedroom.

  “Hey bro… do you want to go for a drink? The pub is open.” I say loudly.

  “Nnnngh…” He makes a noise like he is still sleeping. I think he’s gone back to bed. I know he wants to go out really. We have a lot to talk about.

  While I wait for him, I do chores. I pick him out some clean clothes hanging over the bath on the airer. I steam iron his jeans, a blue long sleeve t-shirt and dark grey zip-cardigan and hang them up in the bathroom. I use a fabric refresher spray that smells like a spring meadow on a sunny day. I close my eyes and see dancing butterflies. All the darkness of last night banished away. I wash up the bowls, cups and cutlery in hot soapy sink water, in soft bubbles and lemon scented steam. I dry up with a starchy white tea towel and put it all away as quietly and carefully as possible, try not to make crockery chink together too loudly. The place looks tidier already. I sweep the lino with a grey dustpan and brush after wiping all the crumbs from the surfaces onto the floor with a yellow square sponge. When I lift the lid of the bin I notice a smell like rotten fish and bad meat. I take out the thin heavy bag quickly, trying to be careful, but still it drips a grimy trail of bin juice all across the kitchen floor.

  When I open the front door, there is movement and I hear people talking. They’re right outside, I think from the flat above, on the stairs, chatting softly, gently laughing, male voices and a woman’s too. I turn briefly to look. I see two men standing on the steps. They are wearing hoodies, one’s in a baseball cap, both carry big rucksacks. The woman stands behind, smaller than them both, so I cannot see her clearly, just a hint of blonde hair. The two men stop talking and turn to look at me and smile. The one in the cap looks vaguely familiar. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, stopped, staring and holding a bag of dripping rubbish, I just tiny smile back, look down, and quickly jog to the bin, throw it in and run back inside. Before I shut the door I listen to their gentle voices carry on talking, although I cannot hear what they say. I go back in and squirt the empty bin with disinfectant spray and the smell now reminds me of hospitals. A big improvement on putrid things. I squirt the trail of bin juice as well, then wipe that up too with the yellow sponge.

  Back in, door shut, I stand with my hands on my hips surveying my tidy work thinking what can I do next. “You ok?” I hear loud, and in walks Rob wearing the clothes I hung up for him. “You ready to go?” he asks.

  “I think so.” I say, looking him up and down, smiling.

  “I need beer!” he says like a caveman and he starts looking around the floor for something to wear on his feet. He’s not going to hang around, so, quick as sticks I tie my bootlaces and pull back my hair into a twist. No time to check make up again so just a swoosh of powder and Vaseline on my lips. That’s it. Before I have even checked what’s in my coat pockets we’re off. Door shuts thud.

  We’re walking to the next local so not the nearest dive of a pub, but a slightly nicer dive about half a mile away. A good walk in the cold air but not quite far enough for me to insist on getting a cab, but I don’t complain. It’s worth the walk. It’s warmer, comfier though a little more expensiver than the other pub but I like it. The pool table is easy too with no silly rules about where to put your pound on the table or winner stays on, none of that. It’s just pool with friendly enough people to have a game with, if you want and when you want.

  We stop at the shop to get cigarettes and Rob buys chewing gum and a redtop paper. “What you wanting gum for? You want to get lucky or you just saving me from your dog breath?” He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t answer. I buy a chocolate bar, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, cigarettes, sherbet dab, bubble gum and a bag of fizzy cola bottles. The man in the shop has to give me a blue carrier bag to put it all in. Rob mutters something I don’t hear. I just smile at him. Breakfast! I tear the wrapper off my chocolate and stand still to eat it. The taste is indescribably blissful, creamy, smooth and deep. I let it melt in my mouth a little, one piece at a time.

  We’re soon on our way again and tobacco smoke puts a new lease of life in my lungs. I blow smoke rings that disappear in the wind and go along at almost a skip. I love days like this. A day together to catch up, relax and chill. We swoosh the pub door open, me going in first and warm cider-scented air rushes over me. As we go in a few people look. We say, ‘What up’ and ‘Hey’ to the people we know. Rob crashes onto the nearest sofa. His phone rings and he answers while dropping the paper on the table. I go to the bar and buy a bottled beer for me and a pint for Rob. I take the drinks to the table. Rob’s still on the phone. I take a long drink and spark up another cigarette.

  When Rob finishes his conversation and puts his phone down on the table I ask. “So who goes first?” He points at me. So I go ahead, telling my story from the beginning. Meeting them. Going to the cinema. Getting in the club. Going to the bar. The argument. The abandonment. The bouncer. The car ride. My near death experience. Rob looks fairly uninterested the whole time with his eyebrows only ever so slightly raised. I catch him sneaking looks at the football build up on the high up television opposite him. I get his full attention when I go over the part of the row again, the alley, the burger splat, the brick wall. I repeat it again, louder this time, I see his jaw drop a little but his mouth doesn’t open. With eyes a little rounder, he gets up. “I better get more beer.” He leaves me, taking the empties with him and I spark up yet another cigarette, the rest of my story on ice, still to tell. Holding on to it hurts a little, like longed for pee. Drinks in, I tell him about the call from Etienne and then as quickly as I can tell it, the whole of it, about scumbag Lee. At first he doesn’t react. Then he almost laughs. “You popped a bottle at a window and kicked him!?”

  “Yeah?” He’s smiling and I feel hurt. “I got away.”

  “You should have cracked him over the head with it, knocked him out, smashed his face in,” he says in one breath.

  “Really..? Yeah but... but, I had no time to mess up. I had to do something. I did alright. I do feel bad though, smashing that window.”

  “You were stupid to get in his car.”

  I tell him, “I know...” but still, I get a lecture about being careful, trusting no-one, and being extra careful with cabs and guys and getting in cars. “I’ve learnt my lesson,” I say. “I don’t need telling again.” I go back to being dumped.

  Rob says, “You’ll get over it.”

  I ask, “How?”

  He says, “Go out with someone else!”

  I say, “Who?”

  He says, “Who you got?”

  “Jon!” I say, jokingly serious.

  He looks at me. “No!” He says, “Any
way, he’s got a girlfriend, and a kid.”

  I laugh a little, shocked but hiding it. Bastard. “I was only joking. I’d have to be nuts to go out with one of your mates.” I’m still reeling at the revelation.

  “Crazy or stupid.” He says, irritated.

  “What about I get back with Benny?”

  “Why would you want to do that?” He looks cross. “You can’t go out with someone that dumped you.”

  “Why not? You know how we’ve been on and off. It’s the easy option.”

  Rob shakes his head. “It’s not an option! Where’s your self-respect? He dumped you!” he says, emphasising each word, his hand planted firmly on the table.

  Then it hits me. “I know!”

  “What?”

  “That guy I met on Friday. Etienne.”

  “Etienne?” he says, like I’m speaking Alien.

  “Yeah, Etienne. He’s French. But he seems nice... Really nice.”

  “He’s French?” Rob repeating everything I say starts to annoy me.

  “Yes. I think I’m going to give him a go.”

  He whispers, “Don’t call him.” I look at him puzzled. “Let him call you.”

  “He text already, last night.” I say, triumphant. “But, I tried calling him back but he didn’t answer.”

  “There you go, if you called him he’ll see your missed call. Now wait for him to call you back. Don’t even think about calling him again. He’ll call you if he’s that keen.” I smile. Rob’s apparent interest and advice warms me. I think he’s right. I should wait. If he wants me, he’ll come after me. The same strategy I had with Benny, nearly always worked. “No doubt he will ring you.” Rob adds just as the Sunday football kicks off and we start to watch the game. Rob gets very much into it straight away and switches off from me almost entirely, like he’s been unplugged.

  It would fall on deaf ears now if I spoke more, so it’s probably not the right time to ask where Ruby is or what happened with Marcia. But my patience escapes me. When the ball gets kicked out of play I ask quickly, “Where’s Ruby?”

  He answers not taking his eyes off the screen, “I’m going round Mrs D’s later. Last night something came up.”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing...” It’s all he will say before the football takes him away again to another plane. So maybe it’s his fault he didn’t see his baby. God knows what he was doing then.

  I liked it more when Marcia and Rob were together. Really I did. Although I always got the feeling that Marcia didn’t like me being there. Even though me, Ruby and Rob get along like a blaze. Rob said Marcia did like me. I was never sure. Maybe I got in the way. But then Rob said it was his house and he has who he likes living there. I know Rob likes having me around. He’s my best friend as well as my brother. I just think Marcia’s volcanic and strung up tight like a violin, whereas me and Rob are both chilled, flat on our backs like ice cube trays. I doubt she gets me and just thinks I’m Rob’s cling-on, pain in the neck sister. As a result I never got to know her that well. Some of her frosty looks or loaded comments made me back away. We don’t talk now really, unless we have to, and now what with all the heartache she has caused Rob, I hate her right back.

  Rob said when they were good, they were great. But they are both fiery, stubborn people. Beautiful. Look great together as a couple but underneath the flawless surface the cracks run deep. Jealously would never go away. They are always going to get stared at. Marcia is stunning. Then there’s Rob’s spirit and strength. But to trust him, I don’t know what he’s up to half the time so god knows how Marcia trusted him. I ask mum if she knows where he is sometimes and she just shrugs. She used to always say he was her good boy, once upon a time. It’s been a long time since I heard her say it. I think he’s good to me, always has been. The way he looks out for me and would always be there if I needed him, like I did last night. I think that he still loves Marcia and of course he loves Ruby, even more so, although I don’t hear him say it. He’s quiet with his feelings.

  As I’m deep in thought, Rob starts waving something in front of my face, my ringing phone. I didn’t even hear it. I take it from him quickly. It’s Etienne. My stomach flips. I answer quietly, “Hello?” It’s not a long conversation. He asked me how I am and if I wanted to meet up. I said ok, when? He said, tonight. I was a little taken aback but still, I said, ok. He said good, 7 o’clock Covent Garden station. I said, ok. He said, see you later. I said ok, bye. That was it.

  Rob is looking at me. He had turned his attention to my every word when I would rather now he had been watching the football. “There you go.” He says. “Perfect. Someone else for you to think about. Now, don’t be phoning Benny.”

  “Why not?” I jest, too excited now to even be thinking about Benny. Rob looks a little mad, but I hope he knows I’m only teasing, well sort of anyway. “Ok. No, I won’t,” I say. “Not ‘til tomorrow at least.” He looks at me seriously. “I’m joking!”

  “You should just do without him completely. He’s no good for you. Never will be.” He doesn’t stop there. “He’ll only ever bring you down. Better to be on your own than with someone who beats you.” He walks as he talks, waving his pint glass around. It spills a little. “Hey, if I ever see him on his own...” he threatens, with dark density that sends cold shivers right through me. I nearly say nothing, keep quiet as I know he’s right, but I can’t admit it.

  All I can say is, “Ok, ok. Shut up will you!”

  “Yeah, well now you got someone else, maybe he’s right up your street and will beat you too.”

  “I don’t think so...” It’s not what I want to say, but my slow, clunking head cannot think of better words to answer his jibes. A minute ago he was all for it.

  “How do you know?” Rob jabs back, sharp as scissors. “Everyone has a dark side.”

  “I know and you’re pretty fucking dark today.” I’m tired of arguing now, and light a cigarette to calm my anger, but can’t stop myself giving one last dig back. “I’m always on the lookout for more fun.” He’s not going to win.

  “Yeah well, I’m only watching out for you. It was hardly fun for you last night now was it?” He has a point. I admit defeat. There is a long pause. I don’t like it but I know in a weird way this is him being nice and actually giving a damn about me, trying to teach me a lesson. Eventually the silence is broken. “Pool?” Rob asks, and I nod. We stand up and Rob heads over to the table to set up. Just as I’m standing and going over to the bar, I get an almost full-on head rush like I’ve been dropped headfirst into a bucket of smoke. I actually have a date.

  “Fuck!” I say, accidentally out loud, making the bargirl pulling a pint nearby look at me uneasily. “Sorry.” I say. She now probably thinks I’m nuts. Still, she comes over, and I buy more beer. I also buy a shot of whiskey for me and down it at the bar to steady my nerves. I have never been on a date before. How am I actually going to do this? For a start, what am I going to wear? What am I going to say? What am I supposed to do? Do I offer to pay? Walk through the door first? Or just stand him up as it’s all just too damn scary. I should even be hungry now. I feel hungry but food is the last thing on my mind. I need Rob’s advice, urgently. “Rob,” I say, as I walk back over with the beers. “What am I supposed to do when I meet him?” I sit down and start rummaging about in my blue carrier bag.

  “Just be yourself. Play it cool, but not too cool. I know how cold you can be.” Then he looks at me seriously. “Just relax. Smile. Enjoy it. If it’s really that bad, just come home.”

  “I’m scared.” I say sticky and mumbling, mouth full of cola bottles.

  “Don’t be scared. How bad can it be?”

  “Exactly. I don’t know. Remember I’ve never been on a date before. Dumbo!”

  “I know... But you’re only going for a drink. Like I say, just have one, make your excuses and leave if you hate it. Or if it’s really bad, just say you’re going to the toilet and don’t go back.”

  “True,” I sa
y, thinking I urgently need another shot. I’m still worrying like a wart and when I get back from the bar I say, “What am I going to wear?” Rob slams his queue into the white ball, sinking two reds. He calls it skill, I call it a fluke. I keep hoping and wishing he will miss but after putting me six - two down, I’m staring at him.

  “What?”

  “…am I going to wear?” I finish the sentence. Then I look back at the table wondering how, or even if, I’m getting back into this game, all the while waiting for Rob to answer my question.

  “Don’t go too mad.” He finally answers, just as I’m about to shoot. I look up at him.

  “What do you mean?” I say angrily after I miss hit and send balls scattering.

  “Don’t wear too much make up. Dress down. Like jeans, a nice top, boots maybe, your nice coat.”

  “Nice coat?” I never knew he was so interested in clothes.

  “Yeah. First impressions. You’re meeting him outside so look smart. You don’t want to be wearing one of your scruffy hoodies. What about your fur coat? That’s nice.”

  “My fur coat?” Then I remember my brownish fake fur leather trimmed jacket. “Oh. Yeah, that one, I know. Hopefully it won’t rain else I’ll end up looking like a wet dog.” He looks at me smiling, like he’s about to say something sharp. I stare at him so he knows to bite his tongue, though his smile is broad. “I can read your mind sometimes.” I take a long drink of my beer. Then as I swallow, another wave of nervous terror sweeps over me. My stomach does a double flip. I have a date in a few hours.

  “Are you going to stay and watch the game?” Rob asks.

  “Yeah but I need time to get ready.”

  “You got time. Stay ‘til it’s finished. It won’t be that late.” I nod my head, heart still pumping. I think it is a good idea actually. Maybe it’s best to watch the football and try to take my mind off this evening. I want more drink but Rob shouts, “Hey! Go easy!” before I’m even at the bar. “You don’t want to be pissed before you even get there.” Then he shouts over at me, “Get some food, proper food.” I ask for a menu.